Confidence Game

chair.

  "Did you have a nice day, dear?" she asked.

  She was always pleasant and she always smiled at him, and she wasindeed a handsome woman. They had been married but five years, and shewas almost fifteen years younger than he, but they had a solidunderstanding. She respected his work, and she was careful with themoney he allowed her, and she never forgot the Scotch and water. "Theday was all right," he said.

  "My goodness," she said, "you worked late. Do you want dinner rightaway?"

  "I had some sandwiches at the office," he said, drinking slowly.

  "That isn't enough," she said reproachfully, and he enjoyed her concernover him. "You'd better have some nice roast beef that Andre did justperfectly. And there's some wonderful dressing that I made myself, forjust a small salad."

  He smiled finally. "All right," he said. "All right."

  She got up and kissed him again, and he relaxed in the large chair,sipping contentedly at his drink, listening to her footsteps hurryingaway, the sound another indication that she was doing something for him.He felt tired and easy. He let his mind relax with his body. The gadget,the Confidet; that was going to work, he knew. It would erase the lastimportant bug in his operational efficiency, and then he might evenexpand, the way he had wanted to all along. He closed his eyes for amoment, tasting of his contentment, and then he heard the sound of hisdinner being placed on the dining room table, and he stood up brisklyand walked out of the library. He really was hungry, he realized. Notonly hungry but, he thought, he might make love to Mary that evening.

  * * * * *

  The first indication that the Confidet might be working, came threeweeks later, when Quay handed Cutter the report showing an efficiencyincrease of 3.7 percent. "I think that should tell the story," Quay saidelatedly.

  "Doesn't mean anything," Cutter said. "Could be a thousand other factorsbesides that damned gimmick."

  "But we've never been able to show more than one point five variance onthe administrative checks."

  "The trouble with you, Quay," Cutter said brusquely, "is you keeplooking for miracles. You think the way to get things in this world isto hope real hard. Nothing comes easy, and I've got half a notion to getthose damned silly things jerked out." He bent over his work, obviouslyfinished with Quay, and Quay, deflated, paced out of the office.

  Cutter smiled inside the empty office. He liked to see Quay's enthusiasmbroken now and then. It took that, to mold a really good man, becausethat way he assumed real strength after a while. If he got knocked downand got up enough, he didn't fall apart when he hit a really toughobstacle. Cutter was not unhappy about the efficiency figures at all,and he knew as well as Quay that they were decisive.

  Give it another two weeks, he thought, and if the increase wascomparable, then they might have a real improvement on their hands.Those limp, jumpy creatures on the desks out there might actually startearning their keep. He was thinking about that, what it would mean tothe total profit, when Lucile opened his door and he caught a glimpse ofthe office outside, including the clerk with the sad, frightened eyes.Even you, Linden, Cutter thought, we might even improve you.

  The increase _was_ comparable after another two weeks. In fact, theefficiency figure jumped to 8.9. Quay was too excited to be knocked downthis time, and Cutter was unable to suppress his own pleasure.

  "This is really it this time, George," Quay said. "It really is. Andhere." He handed Cutter a set of figures. "Here's what accountingestimates the profit to be on this eight-nine figure."

  Cutter nodded, his eyes thinning the slightest bit. "We won't see thatfor a while."

  "No," Quay said, "but we'll see it! We'll sure as hell see it! And if itgoes much higher, we'll absolutely balance out!"

  "What does Bolen figure the top to be?"

  "Ten percent."

  "Why not thirty-six point eight?" Cutter said, his eyes bright andnarrow.

  Quay whistled. "Even at ten, at the wage we're paying--"

  "Never settle for quarters or thirds," Cutter said. "Get the wholething. Send for Bolen. I want to talk to him. And in the meantime, Bob,this is such a goddamned sweet morning, what do you say we go to lunchearly?"

  Quay blinked only once, which proved his adaptability. Cutter had justasked him to lunch, as though it were their habit to lunch togetherregularly, when in reality, Quay had never once gone to lunch withCutter before. Quay was quite nonchalant, however, and he said, "Why,fine, George. I think that's a good idea."

  * * * * *

  Bolen appeared in Cutter's office the next morning, smiling, his eyesdarting quickly about Cutter's desk and walls, so that Cutter felt, fora moment, that showing Bolen anything as personal as his office, was alittle like letting the man look into his brain.

  "Quay tells me you've set ten percent as the top efficiency increase wecan count on, Bolen." Cutter said it directly, to the point.

  Bolen smiled, examining Cutter's hands and suit and eyes. "That's right,Mr. Cutter."

  "Why?"

  Bolen placed his small hands on his lap, looked at the tapered fingers,then up again at Cutter. He kept smiling. "It's a matter of saturation."

  "How in hell could ten percent more efficiency turn into saturation?"

  "Not ten percent more efficiency," Bolen said quietly. "Ten percent_effect_ on the individual who _creates_ the efficiency. Ten percenteffect of that which _causes_ him to be ten percent more efficient."

  Cutter snorted. "Whatever the hell that damned gimmick does, it createsconfidence, drive, strength, doesn't it? Isn't that what you said?"

  "Yes," Bolen said politely. "Approximately."

  "Can you explain to me then, how ten percent more confidence in a man issaturation?"

  Bolen studied what he was going to say carefully, smiling all the while."Some men," he said very slowly, "are different than others, Mr. Cutter.Some men will react to personality changes as abrupt as this indifferent ways than others. You aren't too concerned, are you, with whatthose changes might already have done to any of the individualsaffected?"

  "Hell, no," Cutter said loudly. "Why should I be? All I'm interested inis efficiency. Tell me about efficiency, and I'll know what you'retalking about."

  "All right," Bolen said. "We have no way of knowing right now which menhave been affected more than others. All we have is an average. Theaverage right now is eight and nine-tenths percent. But perhaps you havesome workers who do not react, because they really do not suffer thelacks or compulsions or inhibitions that the Confidet is concerned with.Perhaps they are working at top efficiency right now, and no amount offurther subjection to the Confidet will change them."

  "All right then," Cutter said quickly, "we'll ferret that kind ofdeadwood out, and replace them!"

  "How will you know which are deadwood?" Bolen asked pleasantly.

  "Individual checks, of course!"

  Bolen shook his head, looking back at his tapering fingers. "It won'tnecessarily work. You see, the work that these men are concerned with isnot particularly demanding work, is it? And that means you want tostrike a balance between capability and demand. It's the unbalance ofthese things that creates trouble, and in your case, the demandoutweighed the capability. Now, if you get a total ten-percent increase,then you're balanced. If you go over that, you'll break the balance allover again, except that you'll have, in certain cases, capabilityoutweighing the demand of the work."

  "Good," Cutter said. "Any man whose capability outweighs the work he'sdoing will simply keep increasing his efficiency."

  Bolen shook his head. "No. He'll react quite the other way. He'll loseinterest, because the work will no longer be a challenge, and then theefficiency will drop."

  Cutter's jaw hardened. "All right then. I'll move that man up, and fillhis place with someone else."

  Bolen looked at Cutter's eyes, examined them curiously. "Some men have agreat deal of latent talent, Mr. Cutter. This talent released--"

  Cutter frowned, studying Bolen
carefully. Then he laughed suddenly. "Youthink I might not be able to handle it?"

  "Well, let's say that you've got a stable of gentle, quiet mares, andyou turn them suddenly into thoroughbreds. You have to make allowancesfor that, Mr. Cutter. The same stalls, the same railings, the samestable boys might not be able to do the job anymore."

  "Yes," Cutter said, smiling without humor, "but the _owner_ has nothingto do with stalls and railings and stable boys, only