CONFIDENCE GAME
Cutter demanded more and more and more efficiency—and gotit! But, as in anything, enough is enough, and too much is …
[37]
George H. Cutter wheeledhis big convertible into his reservedspace in the Company parkinglot with a flourish. A brightCalifornia sun drove its earlybrightness down on him as hestrode toward the square, four-storybrick building which saidCutter Products, Inc. over its frontdoor. A two-ton truck was grindingbackward, toward the loadingdoors, the thick-shouldered drivercraning his neck. Cutter movedbriskly forward, a thick-shoulderedman himself, though not very tall.A glint of light appeared in hiseyes, as he saw Kurt, the truckdriver, fitting the truck's rear endinto the tight opening.
“Get that junk out of the way!”he yelled, and his voice roared overthe noise of the truck's engine.
Kurt snapped his head around,his blue eyes thinning, then recognitionspread humor crinklesaround his eyes and mouth. “Allright, sir,” he said. “Just a secondwhile I jump out, and I'll lift itout of your way.”
“With bare hands?” Cutter said.
“With bare hands,” Kurt said.
Cutter's laugh boomed, and ashe rounded the front of the truck,he struck the right front fenderwith his fist. Kurt roared back fromthe cab with his own laughter.
He liked joking harshly withKurt and with the rest of the truckdrivers. They were simple, and theydidn't have his mental strength.But they had another kind ofstrength. They had muscle andenergy, and most important, theyhad guts. Twenty years before Cutterhad driven a truck himself. Thedrivers knew that, and there was abond between them, the driversand himself, that seldom existedbetween employer and employee.
The guard at the door came toa reflex attention, and Cutterbobbed his head curtly. Then, insteadof taking the stairway thatled up the front to the secondfloor and his office, he strode downthe hallway to the left, anglingthrough the shop on the first floor.He always walked through theshop. He liked the heavy drivingsound of the machines in his ears,and the muscled look of the men,in their coarse work shirts andheavy-soled shoes. Here again wasstrength, in the machines and inthe men.
And here again too, the bond betweenCutter and his employeeswas a thing as real as the whir andgrind and thump of the machines,as real as the spr