Death of a Salesman_ Certain Private Conversations in Two Acts and a Requiem - Miller, Arthur [39]
CHARLEY: I offered you a job. You can make fifty dollars a week. And I won’t send you on the road.
WILLY: I’ve got a job.
CHARLEY: Without pay? What kind of a job is a job without pay? [He rises.] Now, look, kid, enough is enough. I’m no genius but I know when I’m being insulted.
WILLY: Insulted!
CHARLEY: Why don’t you want to work for me?
WILLY: What’s the matter with you? I’ve got a job.
CHARLEY: Then what’re you walkin’ in here every week for?
WILLY [ getting up]: Well, if you don’t want me to walk in here—
CHARLEY: I am offering you a job.
WILLY: I don’t want your goddam job!
CHARLEY: When the hell are you going to grow up?
WILLY [ furiously]: You big ignoramus, if you say that to me again I’ll rap you one! I don’t care how big you are! [He’s ready to fight.]
[Pause.]
CHARLEY [kindly, going to him]: How much do you need, Willy?
WILLY: Charley, I’m strapped, I’m strapped. I don’t know what to do. I was just fired.
CHARLEY: Howard fired you?
WILLY: That snotnose. Imagine that? I named him. I named him Howard.
CHARLEY: Willy, when’re you gonna realize that them things don’t mean anything? You named him Howard, but you can’t sell that. The only thing you got in this world is what you can sell. And the funny thing is that you’re a salesman, and you don’t know that.
WILLY: I’ve always tried to think otherwise, I guess. I always felt that if a man was impressive, and well liked, that nothing—
CHARLEY: Why must everybody like you? Who liked J. P. Morgan? Was he impressive? In a Turkish bath he’d look like a butcher. But with his pockets on he was very well liked. Now listen, Willy, I know you don’t like me, and nobody can say I’m in love with you, but I’ll give you a job because—just for the hell of it, put it that way. Now what do you say?
WILLY: I—I just can’t work for you, Charley.
CHARLEY: What’re you, jealous of me?
WILLY: I can’t work for you, that’s all, don’t ask me why.
CHARLEY [angered, takes out more bills]: You been jealous of me all your life, you damned fool! Here, pay your insurance. [He puts the money in WILLY’S hand.]
WILLY: I’m keeping strict accounts.
CHARLEY: I’ve got some work to do. Take care of yourself. And pay your insurance.
WILLY [moving to the right]: Funny, y’know? After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive.
CHARLEY: Willy, nobody’s worth nothin’ dead. [After a slight pause] Did you hear what I said?
[WILLY stands still, dreaming.]
CHARLEY: Willy!
WILLY: Apologize to Bernard for me when you see him. I didn’t mean to argue with him. He’s a fine boy. They’re all fine boys, and they’ll end up big—all of them. Someday they’ll all play tennis together. Wish me luck, Charley. He saw Bill Oliver today.
CHARLEY: Good luck.
WILLY [on the verge of tears]: Charley, you’re the only friend I got. Isn’t that a remarkable thing? [He goes out.]
CHARLEY: Jesus!
[CHARLEY stares after him a moment and follows. All light blacks out. Suddenly raucous music is heard, and a red glow rises behind the screen at right. STANLEY, a young waiter, appears, carrying a table, followed by HAPPY, who is carrying two chairs.]
STANLEY [putting the table down]: That’s all right, Mr. Loman, I can handle it myself. [He turns and takes the chairs from HAPPY and places them at the table.]
HAPPY [glancing around]: Oh, this is better.
STANLEY: Sure, in the front there you’re in the middle of all kinds a noise. Whenever you got a party, Mr. Loman, you just tell me and I’ll put you back here. Y’know, there’s a lotta people they don’t like it private, because when they go out they like to see a lotta action around them because they’re sick and tired to stay in the house by theirself. But I know you, you ain’t from Hackensack. You know what I mean?
HAPPY [sitting down]: So how’s it coming, Stanley?
STANLEY: Ah, it’s a dog’s life. I only wish during the war they’d a took me in the Army. I coulda been dead by now.
HAPPY: My brother’s back, Stanley.
STANLEY: Oh, he come back, heh? From the Far West.
HAPPY: