“Would you like to dispute anything Mrs. Goodman has told me so far?” Mr. Selfridge asked, settling his attention on Beatrix.
“I believe Mrs. Goodman has been accurate in her assessment of the situation, although I wasn’t attempting to thumb my nose at protocol. I just wasn’t familiar with what a salesgirl was expected to do in that particular—”
A knock on the door interrupted her right as Mr. Selfridge’s secretary poked her head in. “Mr. Blair, supervisor of Men’s Furnishings, needs to have a word with you, Mr. Selfridge.”
“Tell him I’m in a meeting,” Mr. Selfridge returned.
“He’s here about Miss Waterbury.”
Mr. Selfridge shot a look of disbelief to Beatrix. “You may leave, Mrs. Goodman,” he said. “And please send in Mr. Blair.” He then settled back in his chair and stared at Beatrix as if he’d never encountered a salesgirl quite like her before.
After Mr. Blair took Mrs. Goodman’s vacated seat beside Beatrix, not bothering to even acknowledge her, he launched into an account of everything Beatrix had done wrong, with the most grievous offense, at least according to Mr. Blair, being the fact that she’d taken away an impressive sale from one of his salesmen.
Having held her tongue throughout Mr. Blair’s entire tirade, Beatrix finally had enough. Sitting forward, she caught Mr. Blair’s eye. “The only reason Mr. Nesbit requested my assistance was because he’d been all but ignored by your salesmen when he went over to select some items while I assisted his companion with choosing gloves.”
“Neither Mr. Foster nor Mr. Rice would ever ignore a customer,” Mr. Blair said with a sniff.
“Come now, Mr. Blair. From what I was told, your salesmen were assisting matrons known to be of the society set. You know that even with Marshall Field & Company expecting their associates to cater to every customer, some do get neglected when there’s more than one known wealthy customer in a department.”
“That never happens.”
“It does. You just don’t want to admit that in front of Mr. Selfridge.”
Mr. Blair began quivering with indignation. “You’re impertinence is not helping your situation, Miss Waterbury.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but since you’ve leveled unfair charges against me, I believe I have no choice but to defend myself, although I wouldn’t say I’m being impertinent, more along the lines of brutally honest.”
Mr. Selfridge sat forward. “You may go, Mr. Blair.”
Even though Mr. Blair looked as if he wanted to argue some more, he rose to his feet, nodded to Mr. Selfridge, then strode from the room without a second glance at Beatrix.
An uncomfortable silence filled the air until Mr. Selfridge blew out a breath. “Why do you believe Mr. Norman Nesbit, a gentleman who belongs to one of the wealthiest families in Chicago, was being ignored by the salesmen?”
“In my humble opinion, that might have been caused by Mr. Nesbit’s appearance. His hair is much too long at the moment, something I explained to him when he asked me that same question, and I believe his slightly derelict appearance had the salesmen believing he wasn’t a gentleman with deep pockets.”
Mr. Selfridge blinked. “You told one of our customers his hair was too long?”
“He asked.”
“How did he respond to your answer?”
“He wasn’t upset, if that’s your concern, because he seemed genuinely curious about why he’d been ignored.”
“Were you able to assist him with purchasing everything he wanted in Men’s Furnishings?”
“I was, and I’m sure you’ll be interested to learn that it was another impressive sale.”
Mr. Selfridge narrowed his eyes. “But it was a sale that was taken away from a salesman.”
“Who was ignoring Mr. Nesbit.”
“If you would have given the sale to one of the salesmen in that department, that would have defused any resentment they now feel toward you.”
Beatrix’s brows drew together. “Why would I have done that?”
“Because it would have allowed one of them to add an impressive sale to his books for the day.”
“It allowed me to add an impressive sale to my book, but . . .” She stopped talking, took a second to organize thoughts that were scattering every which way, then nodded. “You put more importance on the sales the men make than the sales the women make, don’t you?”
“That’s not a secret, Miss Waterbury. The men who work at Marshall Field are more competitive because they’re here to advance their careers. Women, on the other hand, usually take up employment so that they may contribute to household expenses. They often don’t advance because we don’t have many high-ranking positions that are suitable for women.”
“Well, perhaps I’m determined to become a saleswoman instead of a measly salesgirl.”
Mr. Selfridge’s brows shot up to his hairline. “Did you just call your position measly?”
“Slip of the tongue.”
“You should watch that tongue of yours, Miss Waterbury. It’s bound to get you into trouble.”
“Excellent advice.”
Mr. Selfridge settled back into his chair. “I suppose all that’s left to do now is figure out what to do with you.”
“Something needs to be done with me?”
“You abandoned your post, Miss Waterbury, and then you took away a sale from a salesman. Yes, something needs to be done with you.”
Beatrix sat forward. “In the store handbook, it says that Mr. Field demands that we employees give the lady what she wants.”
“And your point would be?”
“Well, even though Mr. Nesbit is not a lady, I was giving him, a cherished customer, what he wanted—that being my assistance.”
“True, this is true,” Mr. Selfridge said slowly.
“And while I did leave my glove counter, I did so at the request of a customer. I then proceeded to give that customer exactly what he wanted, and I also sold him large quantities of those items.” She nodded. “That customer wouldn’t have purchased a single item if I’d not complied with his request, which means I see no reason for you to discipline me because I was,
