THE SUPER OPENER
BY MICHAEL ZUROY
Here's why you should ask for
a "Feetch M-D" next time
you get a can opener!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Feetch!" grated Ogden Piltdon, president of the Piltdon OpenerCompany, slamming the drafting board with his hairy fist, "I wantresults!"
Heads lifted over boards. Kalvin Feetch shrunk visibly.
"As chief engineer you're not carrying the ball," Piltdon went onsavagely. "The Piltdon Can-Opener is trailing the competition.Advertising and Sales are breaking their necks. It's Engineeringthat's missing the boat!"
"But Mr. Piltdon," remonstrated Feetch unsteadily under his employer'sglare, "don't you remember? I tried to...."
"For two years there hasn't been one lousy improvement in the PiltdonCan-Opener!" roared Mr. Piltdon. "Look at our competitors. TheInternational rips apart cans in three and three-tenths seconds.Universal does it in four."
"But Mr. Piltdon—"
"The Minerva Mighty Midget does it in four point two two and plays HomeSweet Home in chimes. Our own Piltdon opener barely manages to open acan in eight point nine without chimes. Is this what I'm paying youfor?"
Feetch adjusted his spectacles with shaking hands. "But Mr. Piltdon,our opener still has stability, solidity. It is built to last. It hasdignity...."
"Dignity," pronounced Piltdon, "is for museums. Four months, Feetch!In four months I want a new can-opener that will be faster, lighter,stronger, flashier and more musical than any other on the market. Iwant it completely developed, engineered and tooled-up, ready forproduction. Otherwise, Feetch—"
Feetch's body twitched. "But Mr. Piltdon, four months is hardly timeenough for development, even with an adequate staff. I've been tryingto tell you for years that we're bound to fall behind because we don'thave enough personnel to conduct research. Our men can barely keepup with production and maintenance. If you would let me put on a fewdraftsmen and...."
"Excuses," sneered Mr. Piltdon. "Your staff is more than adequate.I will not allow you to throw out my money. Four months, Feetch,no more!" Piltdon trudged out of the room, leaving behind him anoppressive silence.
How could you set a time limit on research and development? A designerhad to dream at his board, investigate, search, build, test, compare,discard. He had always wanted to devote all his time to research, butPiltdon Opener had not given him that opportunity. Twenty-five years!thought Feetch. Twenty-five years of close supervision, dead-lines,production headaches, inadequate facilities and assistance. What hadhappened, to the proud dream he once had, the dream of exploringuncharted engineering regions, of unlimited time to investigate anddevelop?
Ah, well, thought Feetch straightening his thin shoulders, he hadmanaged somehow to design a few good things during his twenty-fiveyears with Piltdon. That was some satisfaction.
What now? He had to hang on to his job. Technical work was scarce.Since the early 1980's the schools had been turning out moretechnicians than industry could absorb. He was too old to compete inthe employment market. He couldn't afford to lose any money. Jennywasn't well.
How to meet this four month dead-line? He would get right on ithimself, of course; Hanson—good man—could work with him. He shook hishe