The Efficiency Expert - Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Jimmy Torrance was big; not that he was noticeably taller than other men or his features more than ordinarily attractive, but there was something so well balanced and harmonious in all the proportions of his frame and features as to almost invariably compel a second glance from even a casual observer, especially if the casual observer happened to be in the nonessential creation class.

      And so Jimmy, having had plenty of opportunity to commune with himself during the journey from New York, was confident that there were many opportunities awaiting him in Chicago. He remembered distinctly of having read somewhere that the growing need of big business concerns was competent executive material—that there were fewer big men than there were big jobs—and that if such was the case all that remained to be done was to connect himself with the particular big job that suited him.

      In the lobby of the hotel he bought several of the daily papers, and after reaching his room he started perusing the “Help Wanted” columns. Immediately he was impressed and elated by the discovery that there were plenty of jobs, and that a satisfactory percentage of them appeared to be big jobs. There were so many, however, that appealed to him as excellent possibilities that he saw it would be impossible to apply for each and every one; and then it occurred to him that he might occupy a more strategic position in the negotiations preceding his acceptance of a position if his future employer came to him first, rather than should he be the one to apply for the position.

      And so he decided the wisest plan would be to insert an ad in the “Situations Wanted” column, and then from the replies select those which most appealed to him; in other words, he would choose from the cream of those who desired the services of such a man as himself rather than risk the chance of obtaining a less profitable position through undue haste in seizing upon the first opening advertised.

      Having reached this decision, and following his habitual custom, he permitted no grass to grow beneath his feet. Writing out an ad, he reviewed it carefully, compared it with others that he saw upon the printed page, made a few changes, rewrote it, and then descended to the lobby, where he called a cab and was driven to the office of one of the area’s metropolitan morning newspapers.

      Jimmy felt very important as he passed through the massive doorway into the great general offices of the newspaper. Of course, he didn’t exactly expect that he would be ushered into the presence of the president or business manager, or that even the advertising manager would necessarily have to pass upon his copy, but there was within him a certain sensation that at that instant something was transpiring that in later years would be a matter of great moment, and he was really very sorry for the publishers of the newspaper that they did not know who it was who was inserting an ad in their Situations Wanted column.

      He could not help but watch the face of the young man who received his ad and counted the words, as he was sure that the clerk’s facial expression would betray his excitement. It was a great moment for Jimmy Torrance. He realized that it was probably the greatest moment of his life—that here Jimmy Torrance ceased to be, and James Torrance, Jr., Esq., began his career. But though he carefully watched the face of the clerk, he was finally forced to admit that the young man possessed wonderful control over his facial expression.

      “That bird has a regular poker-face,” mused Jimmy; “never batted an eye,” and paying for his ad he pocketed the change and walked out.

      “Let’s see,” he figured; “it will be in tomorrow morning’s edition. The tired business man will read it either at breakfast or after he reaches his office. I understand that there are three million people here in Chicago. Out of that three million it is safe to assume that one million will read my advertisement, and of that one-million there must be at least one thousand who have responsible positions which are, at present, inadequately filled.

      “Of course, the truth of the matter is that there are probably tens of thousands of such positions, but to be conservative I will assume that there are only one thousand, and reducing it still further to almost an absurdity, I will figure that only ten per cent of those reply to my advertisement. In other words, at the lowest possible estimate I should have one hundred replies on the first day. I knew it was foolish to run it for three days, but the fellow insisted that that was the proper way to do, as I got a lower rate.

      “By taking it for three days, however, it doesn’t seem right to make so many busy men waste their time answering the ad when I shall doubtless find a satisfactory position the first day.”

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      That night Jimmy attended a show, and treated himself to a lonely dinner afterward. He should have liked very much to have looked up some of his friends. A telephone call would have brought invitations to dinner and a pleasant evening with convivial companions, but he had mapped his course and he was determined to stick to it to the end.

      “There will be plenty of time,” he thought, “for amusement after I have gotten a good grasp of my new duties.” Jimmy elected to walk from the theater to his hotel, and as he was turning the corner from Randolph into La Salle a young man jostled him. An instant later the stranger was upon his knees, his wrist doubled suddenly backward and very close to the breaking-point.

      “Wot t’ hell yuh doin’?” he screamed.

      “Pardon me,” replied Jimmy: “you got your hand in the wrong pocket. I suppose you meant to put it in your own, but you didn’t.”

      “Aw, g’wan; lemme go,” pleaded the stranger. “I didn’t get nuthin’—you ain’t got the goods on me.”

      Now, such a tableau as Jimmy and his new acquaintance formed cannot be staged at the corner of Randolph and La Salle beneath an arc light, even at midnight, without attracting attention. And so it was that before Jimmy realized it a dozen curious pedestrians were approaching them from different directions, and a burly blue-coated figure was shouldering his way forward.

      Jimmy had permitted his captive to rise, but he still held tightly to his wrist as the officer confronted them. He took one look at Jimmy’s companion, and then grabbed him roughly by the arm. “So, it’s you again, is it?” he growled.

      “I ain’t done nuthin’,” muttered the man.

      The officer looked inquiringly at Jimmy.

      “What’s all the excitement about?” asked the latter. “My friend and I have done nothing.”

      “Your fri’nd and you?” replied the policeman. “He ain’t no fri’nd o’ yours, or yez wouldn’t be sayin’ so.”

      “Well, I’ll admit,” replied Jimmy, “that possibly I haven’t known him long enough to presume to claim any close friendship, but there’s no telling what time may develop.”

      “You don’t want him pinched?” asked the policeman.

      “Of course not,” replied Jimmy. “Why should he be pinched?”

      The officer turned roughly upon the stranger, shook him viciously a few times, and then gave him a mighty shove which all but sent him sprawling into the gutter.

      “G’wan wid yez,” he yelled after him, “and if I see ye on this beat again I’ll run yez in. An’ you”—he turned upon Jimmy—“ye’d betther be on your way—and not be afther makin’ up with ivery dip ye meet.”

      “Thanks,” said Jimmy. “Have a cigar.”

      After the officer had helped himself and condescended to relax his stern features into the semblance of a smile the young man bid him good night and resumed his way toward the

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