Quitters Inc.

“[Morrison] tried to tell himself that the little worm of jealousy in his stomach was just acid indigestion. He pulled out a roll of antacid pills and crunched one in his mouth.”

McCann is Morrison’s foil at the start of the story. Where McCann is characterized as fit and successful, Morrison is defined by physical and professional limitations. What’s more, Morrison is unwilling to acknowledge this fact to himself, writing off his jealousy as indigestion. This is an example of the wrong medicine being used to cure something psychological, a parallel to Morrison’s many failed addiction treatments.

“Quitters, Inc., was in a new building where the monthly rent on office space was probably close to Morrison's yearly salary. From the directory in the lobby, it looked to him like their offices took up one whole floor, and that spelled money. Lots of it.”

Like McCann, the motif of smiling professionalism, and the unassuming white business card, the initial description of Quitters, Inc.’s office is an innocent and professional façade designed to suggest wealth, success, and professional concern. It later becomes clear that this façade is designed to paper over the organization’s brutal methodology and dodgy origins.

“[Morrison] looked at his own cigarette with distaste and stubbed it out, knowing he would be lighting another in five minutes.”

Much of the story’s rising action centers on Morrison’s internal obsession with cigarettes and inability to quit, regardless of how much he may want to drop the habit. This passage sets up the story’s exploration of addiction as a state of learned helplessness and gives a view into his internal disdain for his addiction.

“[Morrison] put the pack away again. […] He would see this little game through and then light up while he was leaving. He might even tap some ashes on their maroon shag rug if they made him wait long enough.”

Morrison’s initial attitude toward Quitters, Inc. is mulish and defiant, even before he learns of their methodology. In this passage, King reveals how little he thinks of the organization, planning to ignore their advice and dirty their carpet. This sets up his transformation into a true believer and advocate for the program by the story’s end.

“Donatti was waiting. He offered his hand and smiled, and to Morrison the smile looked almost predatory.”

Even at the start, Donatti is characterized as menacing, monstrous, and dangerous. His smile, ever-present in the text, is both a professional mask and a suggestion of his sadistic motivations underneath the guise of pragmatic interest. Here, it foreshadows the danger to come.

“Hugging his son tightly, realizing what Donatti and his colleagues had so cynically realized before him: love is the most pernicious drug of all. Let the romantics debate its existence. Pragmatists accept it and use it.”

In this passage, King marries the horror of pragmatism and the tension between love and addiction. Love may be the only thing that can ultimately overcome addictive behavior, but there is something twisted about the cynical way it is used as a cudgel to keep Morrison in line, especially since his family is unaware of the danger they are in.

“‘Good,’ Donatti said. ‘We don't bother with propaganda here, Mr. Morrison. Questions of health or expense or social grace. We have no interest in why you want to stop smoking. We are pragmatists.’”

Donatti talks at length about the pragmatic philosophy underpinning Quitters, Inc.’s mission. In this passage, he sets up the organization’s absolute commitment to the principle of pragmatism over any other motivating factor, introducing the text’s theme of the horrors of pragmatism. Quitters, Inc., at the end of the day, has no interest at all in the quality of life that their treatments provide and is only invested in the achievement of recovery as its own end.

“Donatti put the pack on the desk. Then, smiling into Morrison's eyes, he curled his right hand into a fist and began to hammer it down on the pack of cigarettes, which twisted and flattened. A broken cigarette end flew out. Tobacco crumbs spilled. The sound of Donatti's fist was very loud in the closed room. The smile remained on his face in spite of the force of the blows, and Morrison was chilled by it.”

This passage presents an early allusion to the mob-like behaviors and imagery that characterize Donatti and Quitters, Inc. The passage also expands on the horrors of pragmatism, giving the reader a first glimpse into the naked sadism that Donatti hides under his guise of pragmatic commitment to helping his clients. The truth is that he enjoys the violence.

“At 5 p.m. the reception room was empty except for the secretary, who gave him a twinkly smile that ignored Morrison's pallor and disheveled appearance.”

Smiles are used throughout the text to paper over the cruelty being done by the organization. They also create a sense of tonal discomfort, juxtaposing a pleasant gesture with open violence, making the smiles inhumane. Here, at the story’s climax, Morrison comes to the office to witness his wife’s electrocution and is greeted with warm smiles. Whereas the receptionist is “twinkly” and smiling, Morrison is already “disheveled,” another juxtaposition that highlights Quitters, Inc.’s cruelty.

“Morrison tensed himself to leap at Donatti. ‘Come, come,’ Donatti said, looking annoyed. ‘If you do that, Junk here is going to pistol-whip you and your wife is still going to get it. Now where's the percentage in that?’”

Percentages are used throughout the text by Donatti to justify the organization’s brutal methods from the perspective of large numbers. It is another instance of how the text explores the horror of pragmatism. When everything is reduced to a percentage, there’s no room left for humanity. Donatti’s language here—“pistol-whip” and “get it”—also builds up the comparison between therapists and mobsters.

Percentages are used throughout the text by Donatti to justify the organization’s brutal methods from the perspective of large numbers. It is another instance of how the text explores the horror of pragmatism. When everything is reduced to a percentage, there’s no room left for humanity. Donatti’s language here—“pistol-whip” and “get it”—also builds up the comparison between therapists and mobsters.

Donatti isn’t under any illusions that his work will be met with gratitude, and he is fundamentally uninterested in it. He sees the romantic interests of achieving good ends through good means as backward. Part of the horror of pragmatism is that it cares only for the end result, regardless of the method used to get there.

“[Morrison] works out three times a week and looks as fit as whipcord. The crony from Larkin, by comparison, looks like something the cat dragged in. […] Morrison looks at him speculatively and then takes a small white business card out of his wallet. He puts it on the bar between them. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘these guys changed my life.’”

This passage near the story’s conclusion demonstrates Morrison’s total transformation from a resistant or hesitant participant in Quitters, Inc.’s program to a true believer and advocate. It also underlines the text’s interest in learned helplessness. Like a victim of Stockholm syndrome, Morrison has fully embraced his tormentor’s philosophy and is willing to inflict it on others.

“‘That’s wonderful! What ever made you decide to quit?’ [Cindy asked] ‘You,’ he said. ‘And…and Alvin.’”

Another example of the text’s interest in the interplay of Addiction Versus Love, this passage is Morrison being as honest as he feels he is able to be with Cindy about the reason for dropping the habit. While he was never able to quit before, he is committed to recovery for the first time in his life now that his family is at risk. This passage is also ironic because Morrison is being quite literal without sharing the whole truth, making his words sound romantic to his wife.