The Tanners

The bookseller was looking at the young man attentively and with astonishment. He appeared to be having trouble deciding whether or not his interlocutor, with this pretty speech, was making a good impression on him. He wasn’t quite sure how to judge and, finding this circumstance rather confusing, he gently inquired in his self-consciousness: “Is it possible, young man, to make inquiries about your person in suitable places?” The one so addressed responded: “Suitable places? I’m not sure what you mean by suitable. To me, the most appropriate thing would be if you didn’t make inquiries at all! Whom would you ask, and what purpose could it serve? You’d find yourself regaled with all sorts of information regarding my person, but would any of it succeed in reassuring you? What would you know about me if, for example, someone were to tell you that I came from a very good family, that my father was a man worthy of respect, that my brothers were industrious hopeful individuals, and that I myself was quite serviceable, if a bit flighty, but certainly not without grounds for hope, in fact that it was clearly all right to trust me a little, and so forth? You still wouldn’t know me at all, and most certainly wouldn’t have the slightest reason to hire me now as a salesclerk in your shop with any greater peace of mind. No, sir, as a rule, inquiries aren’t worth a fig, and if I might make so bold as to venture to offer you, as an esteemed older gentleman, a piece of advice, I would heartily advise against making any at all — for I know that if I were suited to deceive you and inclined to cheat the hopes you place in me on the basis of the information you’d gather, I would be doing so in even greater measure the more favorably the aforementioned inquiries turned out, inquiries that would then prove to be mendacious, if they spoke well of me. No, esteemed sir, if you think you might have a use for me, I ask that you display a bit more courage than most of the other business owners I’ve previously encountered and simply engage me on the basis of the impression I am making on you now. Besides, to be perfectly truthful, any inquiries concerning my person you might make will only result in your hearing bad reports.”

“Indeed? And why is that?”

“I didn’t last long,” the young man continued, “in any of the places I’ve worked at thus far, for I found it disagreeable to let my young powers go stale in the narrow stuffy confines of copyists’ offices, even if these offices were considered by all to be the most elegant in the world — those found in banks for example. To this day, I haven’t yet been sent packing by anyone at all but rather have always left on the strength of my own desire to leave, abandoning jobs and positions that no doubt carried promises of careers and the devil knows what else, but which would have been the death of me had I remained in them. No matter where it was I’d been working, my departure was, as a rule, lamented, but nonetheless after my decision was found regrettable and a dire future was prophesied for me, my employers always had the decency to wish me luck with my future endeavors. With you, sir, in your bookshop (and here the young man’s voice grew suddenly confiding), I will surely be able to last for years and years. And in any case, many things speak in favor of your giving me a try.” The bookseller said: “Your candor pleases me, I shall let you work in my shop for a one-week trial period. If you perform well and seem inclined to stay, then we can discuss it further.” With these words, which signaled the young man’s dismissal, the old man at the same time rang an electric bell, whereupon, as if arriving on the gusts of a strong wind, a small, elderly, bespectacled man appeared.

“Give this young man something to do!”

The spectacles nodded. With this, Simon became an assistant bookseller. Simon — for that was his name.