Word: jobbers
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Angeles, smokers cultivated their local tobacconist as in the hungriest days of meat-and-butter scarcity. This month, Detroit's Cunningham's (chain stores) got about 70% of its July 1943 order. Asked what brands were short, an Atlanta jobber answer replied, "Lady, not to give you a short answer-all of them." Five times in five minutes the cigaret-counter girl at a Walgreen store in Chicago repeated wearily, "We have no name brands." Only in Columbia, S.C. was there an oasis in the cigaret-short South...
...Coop. By the time my pants had stopped smouldering I discovered I owned a copy of S. J.'s "Dream Department," a bottle of ink-eradicator, and twelve reams of graph paper. The ink-eradicator and the graph paper I was able to fob off on some Woolworth jobber who was loitering around the Square, but my better judgment whispered to me that the tome "Dream Department" was a priceless item, not to be offered for blood or money...
...wrong levels. All retail meat prices are pegged at the March 1942 level, but livestock prices (exception: hogs) are as free as a steer on the range. Inevitable result: a record wartime demand pushed livestock prices smack against retail meat ceilings, squeezed profit margins so thin many a jobber and packer was temporarily forced out of the market...
...little more than a quarter century later to establish a highly efficient purchasing office in place of a mess of independent budgeteers, William G. Morse tried his hand at a hundred different jobs. One-time chauffeur, salesman, laborer, riveter, puncher, fitter, inspector, gang boss, foreman, grain merchant, retailer, jobber, manufacturer--he has the broad knowledge of buying, selling, testing, and using, needed to handle wisely the spending of millions of dollars on items ranging from bottled stallion urine to Business School dormitories...
Nearly everybody in northern Minnesota knows rawboned, six-foot Frank Broker. For more than 25 years he was a logger, one of the best in that logging country. Now he is a jobber, driving through the timberlands in his Chevrolet to buy up small lots of lumber and sell them to the mills. With his good sense, his jet-black Indian hair and his love of talk, he is also a familiar figure in the lobby of the Endion Hotel at Cass Lake, where red and white men of affairs assemble regularly to settle matters of moment. As a past...