Read Online Grinding It Out by Ray Kroc - Free Book Online Page A

Model-A Ford, and I shined it up until it looked like it had just rolled out of the factory. Ethel’s Scotch thrift and my Bohemian prudence meshed well, and our savings grew steadily. We were able to afford a live-in maid now, a girl we hired for $4 a week plus room and board. We treated her like part of the family.
    I took care not to be ostentatious (I detest snobs), but my style kind of dazzled my staff at the office. They were eager to follow my examples. I stressed the importance of making a good appearance, wearing a nicely pressed suit, well-polished shoes, hair combed, and nails cleaned. “Look sharp and act sharp,” I told them. “The first thing you have to sell is yourself. When you do that, it will be easy to sell paper cups.” I also counseled them on handling money, encouraging them to spend wisely and save some for a rainy day.
    One morning as I was sending the boys out for a day of selling, I got a call that I was to report to Mr. Clark’s office. When I walked in he looked at me darkly, ignoring my friendly greeting.
    â€œClose the door, Ray, I have a very serious matter to discuss with you.”
    When I was seated, he leaned back in his chair and glared at me over tented fingertips.
    â€œI hear that you’ve been telling your salesmen how to make money on their expense accounts.”
    â€œThat’s right,” I said. “I have.”
    â€œGet out!” he exploded. “Get out of here and stay out!”
    I nodded and walked carefully to the door. I put my hand on the knob and turned slowly to face him. It was deathly still, and I think he was feeling shocked at his own abruptness.
    Our eyes locked and I said, “May I say something?”
    He nodded grimly.
    â€œHere is exactly what I told my men: Each of you gets a certain amount per diem for your expenses on the road. You get so much for a room, so much for travel, and so much for food. Instead of staying in a room with a bath, take a walk down the hall. You’ll be just as clean, and you’ll save some money. When you take the train, get an upper berth, you’ll sleep just as well as in a lower and it will cost you less. Don’t eat breakfast in the fancy hotel restaurant, go to the YMCA cafeteria. Have prunes and oatmeal; it’s filling and it’s good for you; it keeps you being a regular guy.”
    By this time, Mr. Clark was grinning in embarrassed relief. He couldn’t say anything. He just turned his palms up and waved me out. I walked away feeling tall again, although I had half a notion to quit over his unjust accusation.
    My battles with the boss were beginning to get me down, and I might have told him to go to hell once and for all if I hadn’t been having so much fun selling. There were interesting developments popping up all over. An engineer from Sterling, Illinois, named Earl Prince had a coal and ice business he was phasing out, and he was building little castles in towns all around Illinois in partnership with a boyhood buddy of his named Walter Fredenhagen. They called them Prince Castle ice cream parlors, and they sold cones and bulk ice cream and a few sundaes, for which they bought paper cups from me. I kept my eye on them, I thought their operation had a lot of promise.
    Over in Battle Creek, Michigan, I had a customer named Ralph Sullivan who had put a dairy bar up in front of his creamery, and he had invented a drink that was pulling in an astounding business. Ralph had come up with the idea of reducing the butterfat content in a milk shake by making it with frozen milk. The traditional method of making a shake was to put eight ounces of milk into a metal container, drop in two small scoops of ice cream, add flavoring, and put the concoction onto a spindle mixer. Ralph’s formula was to take regular milk, add a stabilizer, sugar, cornstarch, and a bit of vanilla flavoring and freeze it. The result was ice milk. He would put four ounces of milk in a