Malcolm Jameson

“ The demon turned into the door of the building and led the way up to its stage. It was an auditorium. By the time they had reached the platform, the crowd of ghosts behind were crowding into the place. They soon filled it from wall to wall.
"You must have been a pretty popular fellow," remarked the demon, looking them over, "or the reverse. Notorious, you know."
Chisholm didn't know. He had a reputation, he knew, as a go-getter and a good fellow, but it was a modest one—restricted to his customers, his salesmen, and people he met casually. ”

“ Her favorite of many. You might admire some, but they are all on the helpless side—not at all in keeping with your hardboiled idea of the way to do things."
Chisholm stood aghast and watched the endless procession. On they came, one vile caricature after another. Nobody seemed to have forgotten him. He expected the specter furnished by Firrel to be bad. It was. Malice was not its creator, but sheer contempt. Chisholm had to turn his face when it clambered up onto the stage. The office girls' offering differed little from Maizie's except in intensity. The one held by Hardy was a cruel surprise. ”

“ Maizie took one glance at the smoldering hatred and contempt in the weary eyes of the man before the desk and then hastily dropped her own to the notebook on her knee. If only someone would sock the porcine jowl of her detested employer!
"You heard me," said Firrel with a cold distinctness that cut. "You can go to hell."
He turned abruptly and walked out. A moment later the outer door slammed.
"Never mind trying to piece out his torn prospect cards, Maizie," said POHAC's eminently successful sales manager. "We have a file of his daily reports. Hardy can work just as well from those." ”

“ He couldn't help it if there were venal people, or weaklings, or would-be tough eggs that had to be pushed around. Nobody could be expected to get through life without handling such types in the most appropriate way. But where, oh where, was the judge that would pass judgment?
After a time the crowd grew thinner. At length the shade of Chisholm noted that he was virtually alone and treading a narrow path that led upward over a shadowy hill. There was no one ahead of him or alongside, but following him at a distance was a considerable multitude of other shades of his own kind. ”

“ Firrel but the curtest nod in passing. Firrel came in, and not being invited to sit, stood awkwardly before the desk. Maizie felt sorry for the man. He was so earnest, so sincere, such a hard worker—yet he had been with them more than a month and the few commissions he had received could hardly have done more than pay his carfare. It was pathetic.
"Well?" asked Chisholm, hard and cross, as if annoyed at the intrusion.
"I'm quitting," said Firrel. "That's all."
"Suit yourself," said Chisholm, indifferently. "I never begged a man to work for me and I can't see myself starting now. ”

“ We are gathered here to form the ghost of Jerome Chester Chisholm, deceased, erstwhile sales manager of the Pinnacle Office & Household Appliance Corp. We have all eternity, to be sure, but why waste it? ”

“ Yes, it's weak. It is offered by a fellow named Percy Hilyer. He roomed with you at school and has almost forgotten you. He does remember that you were lean and lanky then and used to swipe his socks and wear holes in them."
"That's a hell of a thing to hold against a guy," complained Chisholm.
The demon shrugged.
"That is the way reputations are made. How do you like this one?"
"This one" was the rambunctious shade who had tried to take charge of the meeting at the outset. He was egregiously repulsive.
"That," announced the demon blandly, "is the contribution of one Maizie Delmar. ”

“ Chisholm. "You get it. Take me. I'm always on the lookout for that. If I didn't watch myself, I might turn stout. But no, I'm wise. I don't wait for people to tell me—I go to the gym three times a week and have a good work-out. The rubber says there's not a spare ounce on me. There's no crime in being big—people respect a big man, don't you think?"
"They do get out of their way," admitted Maizie, flashing her stock smile, and batting her eyelids appreciatively. ”

“ Not that he minded missing Chisholm particularly—he had always thought him a phony—but he did like the McKittricks. The party at the theater were equally angry, though they showed it less.
"Well," remarked Mrs. McKittrick acidly to her husband in a moment when the others were occupied, "how much longer are you going to wait for that stuffed-shirt of a head salesman of yours?"
"One minute—no more," said McKittrick, glaring at his watch. "If it's any comfort to you, he's being canned as of coming Monday. The office turnover since he's been in charge is something scandalous." ”

“ Now he was getting another slant on the conflict, for hordes—armies—of soldiers were marching along with him. They were of every kind—Russians, Japs, Tommies, Nazis, even American bluejackets and soldiers—and mingled with them were miserable-looking civilians of every race. ”

“ He doesn't stall and make alibis for himself. He gets 'em on the dotted line. I couldn't let you muff a big order like this one."
Chisholm waved the order under his nose, then laid it face down so the amount on the check would not show.
"Of course," the sales manager went on, in that I-lean-over-backward-being-a-good-fellow manner he assumed at times, "if you really feel that you have anything coming to you for what preliminary work you did, I'm sure I can make Hardy see it that way. He'll cut you in. That's a promise. Would a twenty, say, help out?" ”