Â
KILB
(
Interrupts them
.) Fire!
Â
QUITT
(
Ignores him
.) And whereof are you speaking?
Â
LUTZ
You know very well. We stopped production just now. Our quality product had no chance against your mass-produced one. Your brand is a household name, even our packaging, a three-dimensional picture on a hexagonal cover, was too revolutionary. Consumers are conservative, their curiosity about progress is fly-by-night. That was our first fireâI mean fiasco.
(
Looks at
KILB.)
Â
QUITT
When your product came on the market, I immediately put ours on the steal-me list.
Â
KOERBER-KENT
Please explain.
Â
QUITT
The steal-me list is a full-page ad which we publish once a week in the major newspapers. It lists the ten products of ours that are shoplifted with the greatest frequency. Simultaneously we send this list as posters to the trade. There they construct a kind of altar display of the listed objects and the poster with the legend SHOPLIFTERS' HIT PARADE is hung above it. This boosts sales. I immediately put my product at the top of the list and left it there, until Lutz gave up. I must say
I've grown fond of it in the meantime and look at it in its plain square package with genuine affection. Still, I'm going to stop production on it.
Â
LUTZ
What do you mean?
Â
QUITT
It was a losing proposition for a long time. I just didn't want you to get a swelled head.
Â
VON WULLNOW
Marvelous, Quitt! That's the old school spirit, but I can see now how important it is that we reach an agreement in time.
Â
QUITT
Otherwise why would you be here?
Â
VON WULLNOW
Businessmen are people who get things moving, as Schumpeter says. Let's oil the machinery of the world.
Â
KILB
Someone's coming.
Â
VON WULLNOW
(
Doesn't hear him
.) This is an important day. For the first time we want to give up our atomization. We've been lonely long enough. We planned in loneliness, in sad isolation we watched the market, helplessly each of us set his price by himself, hoping for the best. Despising everything that was alien, each of us on his little island watched the other's advertising campaigns. We did not recognize our mutual needs, were even proud of our individualism. That has to change; we can't go on like this.
Â
( PAULA TAX
hurriedly enters
.)
Â
QUITT
I was just thinking of you, Paula.
Â
PAULA
And?
Â
QUITT
Nothing bad.
Â
VON WULLNOW
Have a seat. (
To the others
) I always find it embarrassing to say to a woman, Sit down. (To PAULA) All of us were thinking of you. Even the Vicar-General, I think?
Â
KOERBER-KENT
(
Jokingly
) Now I know why I felt the whole time as if a door had been left open somewhere.
Â
KILB
Your signet ring is tarnished, Monsignore.
Â
KOERBER-KENT
Continue, my friend. (KILB
remains silent.
) He's never got more than one sentence in him. The habit of quick interjections has ruined him.
Â
(PAULA
has sat down. She is still wearing riding clothes.
QUITT'S WIFE
comes in again. She pretends she is looking for something. PAULA loosens her scarf and shakes her hair. QUITT'S WIFE stomps her feet. As she walks on, the heel of her shoe gets caught in a crack in the floor. She hops backward, slips back into the shoe, and tries to walk out with measured steps. KILB barks after her and she disappears with a scream.
)
Â
QUITT
Perhaps the reason for the nausea is that only a minute ago you could have held an entirely different opinion of the matter, and in that case the story would have taken an entirely different turn.
Â
PAULA
You look at me as if I should ask, What does this mean?
Â
QUITT
Please remind me later that I must still explain something to you.
Â
PAULA
When?
Â
QUITT
Later.
Â
LUTZ
I don't want to be pushy. There's a lot at stake today. I wouldn't have been able to fall asleep last night without my autogenic training. I usually think of the ocean when that happens, but even that sparkled for a long time like freshly mashed spinach from my new freezer package, and the moon above had been crossed out with a felt pen and a smaller one circled in beside it.
Â
VON WULLNOW
All right, let's get down to business. I assume, if not our conversation, then what we mean by it is ears only. In any event, you have my word of honor. (
He takes a look around
.) The Vicar-General swears on this, doesn't he? Lutz promises, or no? And Quitt? Nods. Mrs. Tax's thoughts are still nudging her horse with her thighs. And our guest of honor?
(He nods briefly toward
KILB. )
Â
QUITT
Hans.
Â
(HANS
appears at once, frisks
KILB,
shakes his headâ“no microphone”âand withdraws again.
KILB
thereupon takes his stool and sits down with the others, assumes the pose of a kibitzer. )
Â
VON WULLNOW
We're no sharks. But we've learned that free enterprise is a dog-eat-dog business. Public opinion regards us as monsters belching cigar smoke. And in the often so poetically quoted moments of those overly long cross-country trips we see ourselves like that: we've become what once we didn't want to become at any price. Don't shake your head, Vicar-General. You know that's not the way I mean it. No, we aren't just the bad guys in a game: we really are bad. Even as a gourmet, my face has slowly but surely become less and less soulfulâalthough for a long time I hoped for the opposite. Just take a look at your colleagues business-lunching in the three-star restaurants, Lutz: their jowls register a lifelong sellout. A lifelong circus, not just twice a year like the housewives. Still, it is premature undialectical impressionism, as Mrs. Tax would surely say, trying to dump on us. After all, we didn't become monsters because we relished it. My primal experience is the thought: There's no such thing as a human being who becomes inhuman of his own accord. That's what I tell myself whenever I have to put myself together again after having done something I actually abhor in my heart of hearts.
Â
QUITT
What you're trying to say is that it's futile to try to enlarge the market any further by means of price wars.
Â
LUTZ
(
Glances at
KILB.) Not like that. Everyone should be able to translate it into his own terms.
Â
QUITT
Competition is a game. Fighting is childish. Together we can underbid the small fry until they long to live from dividends. Not force, but the gentle law of displacement. When I was a child I would sometimes quietly sit down on something that someone else wanted, and absentmindedly whistle a song to myself.
Â
KOERBER-KENT
You're not at confession here, Quitt.
Â
QUITT
To the point: first of all: there are too many products, the market has become opaque. Who is producing too much? One of us? Perish the thought. Who then? They, of course. We're going to make the market transparent again. Second: now there are no longer too many products but too many units of the same product. The refrigeration plants are bursting with butter, I read at breakfast today. Is our supply too large? No, demand is too low, and that's the catch we live off of. Third of all: is demand too low because prices are too high? Of course. And prices are too high because wages are too high, right? So we are going to have to pay lower wages. But how? By having the work done more cheaply somewhere else. Say, “Mauritius represents an excellent labor market. The plantations have accustomed the population to hard work for generations. The nimble Asiatic fingers have become skilled and are a proven value.” Therefore, we will be able to claim that our merchandise is a bigger bargain. That's the biggest drawing card. Besides, imagine that all goods will bear the legend: “Made in Mauritius.” I remember the yearning such labels used to instill in me as a child. Why
shouldn't they exert the same effect on our beloved consumers? In any event, demand will rise and we will match up our prices again. Fourth: from time to time we take a walk through the forest by ourselves so as to feel like human beings. Fifth: (To VON WULLNOW) All this time I've felt the irresistible urge to wipe off your wet mouth.
(He wipes off
VON WULLNOW'S
mouth with a handkerchief.
To KILB) Repeat what I've said just now.
Â
(
Pause.
)
Â
KILB
(
Moves his lips, falters, tries again, shakes his head. He hops on his stool toward
QUITT.)
Anyway, it sounded logical. As logical as this here.
(
He tugs at both his ears and his tongue sticks out of his mouth, grabs his chin, and the tongue slips back inside. The businessmen meanwhile have exchanged significant glances
.)
Â
LUTZ
So we're celebrating already?
Â
QUITT
I'm not finished yet.
Â
KOERBER-KENT
What were you playing just now? It was just a game, wasn't it? Because in reality you areâ
Â
QUITT
(
Interrupts him.
) Yes, but only in reality. (
To
VON WULLNOW) And you are speechless?
Â
VON WULLNOW
I'm just getting used to you again. Perhaps you're just one of those people who like to squeeze other people's pimples.
Â
QUITT
(
Strikes his forehead histrionically
.) True, I was carried away by something. But now I'm normal again.
Â
VON WULLNOW
It passed so quickly I've already forgotten it. I was brushed by a bat. Did something happen? Besides, you haven't finished yet.
Â
QUITT
What is important is that from now on none of us does anything without the other. When I buy raw materials without informing you of my source, that's treason. When Lutz brings a new product on the market to corner a share of the turf, that's treason. If the Vicar-General pays his female labor a lower scale than we do, because they are devout farm girls, and depresses prices, that's treason. If you, Paula, let your workers share in the profits and have to raise prices all by yourself, that's treason. (
To
VON WULLNOW) That's the way you want it, isn't it?
Â
VON WULLNOW
Mrs. Tax would probably pose the counterquestion: But what if I let them share because I find it reasonableâsay, to increase production?
Â
QUITT
(To PAULA,
as if she had answered for herself
) It's not treason as long as you don't raise your prices without first consulting us. And as long as you and I have the same habits, you can't betray me. And now the champagne, Hans.
Â
(
A cork pops backstage.
HANS
appears at once, carrying a tray with champagne glasses and a bottle which is still smoking. The ceremony of pouring the champagne.
QUITT
points ironically to the quality of the champagne and glasses, for
example: “Dom Perignon 1935, Biedermeier glasses, handblown, notice the irregularities in the glass.” The group rises to its feet, clinks glasses, drinks quietly, looking into each other's eyes. KILB has not gotten up. While the others are drinking he briefly laughs a few times without the others paying him any heed. He pulls out his knife, turns it back and forth, and lets it fall mumblety-peg fashion to the floor. They look at him without interest. He puts the knife away and plays a little on his harmonica.
HANS
has already left with the tray. KILB gets up and spits at the feet of each person, one after the other. In front of
PAULA
he uses his hand to pull out his chin, simultaneously sticking out his behind. The rest continue to regard him benignly. Suddenly he picks up
LUTZ
and the priest, who don't object, one after the other, and puts them down somewhere else. He crisscrosses the stage. In passing, he kicks them lightly on the backs of their knees so that their legs give a little, except for the last one. He offers
PAULA
his thigh, Harpo Marx fashion, which she holds and then lets drop again; he makes an exception of
QUITT
, only casting sidelong glances at him. Now he has also begun to speak.
)