Practically all shops and stores are open air affairs. You just
walk in and there you are among the dry goods. All have more or
less useless trinkets. The small rooms are crowded to
suffocation, with no room to turn around in. Panama hats are a
staple. . . On the other hand, all shopkeepers and salesmen were
courteous, attentive and tried to help. No high pressure
salesmanship anywhere as you and I know it.
In one shop, a woman was carefully watching me. I thought it was
to keep me from filching one or more articles. But no. She
finally had the audacity to touch me lightly where the old wallet
should be, and the proprietor spoke up, "My wife wants to know if
the senor will tell us where he got his suit of clothes, and how
much he paid for it?" Seeing my chance to try to repay Haspel,
the maker, who had gone to the trouble to send several different
styles to the store across the street from the Roosevelt Hotel in
New Orleans, I peeled off my coat and wrote down everything in
the label except the number of the patent. And so, Messrs. Haspel
up there in New Orleans, if a prepaid order comes from Guayaquil
at the retail price of $22.50, please remember I am your
"drummer" without portfolio and that I am not adverse to an
unreasonable commission.
Pages:
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343