Nowadays, it’s easy to see Stephen King’s name and have a conceived notion of his legacy. He remains well into old age one of the most prolific authors of his generation, producing masterpieces that dig under people’s skin and recontextualizes fears we’ve long taken for granted. In this Short Stop series, I will explore a period before he was the icon we know and love. Even with a handful of bestsellers to his name, his status had yet to cement. That is why I’ve chosen to take a look at his first story collection, “Night Shift,” and hopefully get a glimpse into the writer taking shape, before his style was cemented into a cultural touchstone. Was he always the master of horror, or was there a simpler time when he was as messy and weird as the rest of us? All it takes is turning the page to find out.
Now and then while reading “Night Shift,” I have had to ask when King became beloved as a short story writer. So much of this anthology has felt dated and reminiscent of other authors’ work. I was especially dismayed by the mediocrity that was “Lawnmower Man” to the point that I’m not sure why it was included. Even if I’ve gone long stretches of feeling ho-hum, there will come a moment where everything clicks, and then suddenly you understand why he’s been one of the most influential authors of the 20th century. It wasn’t just the prolificacy with which he wrote. He tapped into something so human that the fear exists internally as a practical fear.
This is all to say that “Quitters, Inc.” deserves to be on a shortlist of masterful early prose that elevates King as a potential great. Despite being one of his campier and more artificially constructed tales, there is a beauty to how everything unfolds. It starts within reason and slowly delves into madness before you realize this is a cautionary tale reminiscent of actual marketing techniques. It’s one thing to try and quit cold turkey, but it’s another to have accountability through other people, who will put pressure on you to be a better person while realizing the side effect is, quite ironically, that it puts an innocent person at greater risk of danger.
Usually that just means your punishment reciprocates onto the relationship, where there’s some emotional toll that permanently alters the core. However, King cannot have cigarette addiction stop at the literal cancer stick. He needs to find the hook that gives us horror, that weaves in this concept of compulsory behavior not only impacting your changing biology as you realize how codependent you were, but also that your failure to be inactive may harm others. To fit this into a mystery (a technique he would improve upon in the decades ahead) only allows the slow introduction into this world to feel more insidious, mixing desperation with a false sense of optimism that is made worse if you’ve personally struggled to quit. It’s not that easy. No miracle cure exists that can’t be relapsed out of in time. “Quitters, Inc.” is the type of horror that works because of how it depicts preying on the vulnerable.
Another reason this short story works is likely because of King’s experience with addiction. It’s been well documented to the point that it has taken its toll on his career at different points. He famously is unable to recall writing “Cujo” and turned the metaphor of cocaine addiction into an unruly fan in his beloved book “Misery.” His penchant for mixing vulnerability with humor and defeat is what makes him greater than the cheap thrills writers he likely cribbed from. Much like this series’ other high benchmark, “The Boogeyman,” it’s when he grows insular that everything begins to make too much sense.
Protagonist Dick Morrison is a middle-aged smoker. He is introduced traveling through The JFK Airport where he runs into an old acquaintance. Jimmy McCann runs down the familiar reunion chit-chat before they get on the subject of smoking. McCann has found happiness since he quit thanks to the folks at Quitters, Inc. The name alone is goofy enough for the readers to pick up the tone of the piece. It says so little but sounds like a buzzword that an impressionable mind would latch onto. Dick wants to quit. It would better his life. Of course he buys into the gimmick, given that McCann promises that they have solutions that will stick.
What’s also brilliant about McCann in the story is how King treats him like a before and after thanks to how he bookends this story. It’s simple, but he starts as the dream testimonial that anyone would fall for. He’s the illusion of a success story. However, he ends the story with the harsh reality of the program. McCann is objectively fine. Because the company targets the loved ones and dismembers them, it’s the world around him that seems off-kilter. King’s greater emphasis is on how the change may look too good to be true, but it’s because the sacrifice didn’t fully impact anyone who joined the program. If somebody was heartless enough, the people at Quitters, Inc. could reasonably murder their entire family without breaking protocol.
Dick doesn’t know this yet. King does a great job of getting the reader’s synapses firing as he allows the gradual world-building to introduce what’s at stake. There is his wife, but there’s also a mentally challenged son who brings his own conflicts to everyday life. The stressors are recognizable even if King places Dick in the upper echelon of society. There is a need to steer everything back on course. After some intimate exchanges that build the perfect level of empathy, he’s off to discover what this whole thing is about.
From here it’s an entertaining yet gradual journey into the maze. There’s plenty of mundane office life as he deals with the secretary and waits for his appointment. Once he’s inside, there are the sales pitch people. They’re given the same level of tact as McCann, though have more belief in the program. Secrets are their cache, and they do their best to hold onto the reality for as long as possible before suggesting that they’re not like other groups. Quitters, Inc. knows real ways to make the most committed of smokers give up the habit.
Sometimes, King’s reliance on violence for humor can be off-putting. Here it works as total irony once the reader begins poking holes in the logic. On the surface, Dick will do anything to quit. However, placing danger on the innocent people around him is absurd. It also creates more stress on accountability, for the warnings lead to permanent damage to those not directly in the program. It’s unclear how they imprison the loved ones, but they are stuck in the most hostile situation even if the client has complete faith they’ll pass. There’s also the question of ethical practices, which makes one wonder if this is just a sadistic ritual so that murderous thugs can take advantage of hostages without being questioned.
To summarize, Dick is not the perfect client. He is, meanwhile, an endearing protagonist because his desire remains pure. Everything he does is the typical recovering addict behavior that anyone would forgive. It’s not until he lands in traffic that things fall apart. He needs a smoke, and soon he recognizes the guilt of putting his wife in danger. The irony is that the traumatic experience would make anyone relapse, yet Dick needs to overcome his triggered need for relief for the sake of not making things worse.
Admittedly, this isn’t King’s funniest dark comedy. However, the use of irony is spot on because it finds the humor in the bleak nature of accountability. When corporations offer solutions to problems that seem too simple, believe your gut. It’s all to sell a product. In another layer of commentary, King has the characters named after cigarette mogul Philip Morris and the advertising company McCann. There’s clear intention to his naming scheme, and it helps make the consumer have buyer's remorse. The corporation ultimately doesn’t care if the product works. Much like how “The Boogeyman” falls short of turning the protagonist sane, “Quitters, Inc.” works by its own inefficient way of showing how good intentions of the individual might land someone in a permanent trap, unable to not be made aware of their shortcomings that would be needed to fully recover.
Which is why choosing to end the story with McCann’s return seems like the perfect button. Again, he seems fine. Even as Quitters, Inc. has upped the ante by asking Dick to maintain a certain weight (even giving him diet pills), there’s unreasonable pressure to fit the ideal recovering addict. The reader is unclear what McCann has done in between the first and last meeting, but it’s clear that he’s still shackled to the program, unable to ever truly escape his past. Once an addict, always an addict.
The horror works because it’s more than shock value. It exists in the same box as something like “The Ledge,” where the stakes are rooted emotionally. Everyone, perceivably, has a loved one they’d want to protect. While quitting smoking may be seen as a way to better that relationship, King can’t help but find the worst-case scenario and makes it a pitch-black satire about the failures of marketing and psychoanalysis. There is something genuine buried underneath the fantasy elements. Quitters, Inc. could realistically exist. In fact, scam companies have only gotten worse in the decades since this story came out.
One of the more surprising things about this story is that it was unpublished. For something this good, one would expect it to have been printed somewhere, especially since the other new works have ultimately been lackluster so far. This one carries the pathos necessary to elevate the gimmick into something more permanent in the reader’s mind. It also works where “Grey Matter” failed because it has something more than grotesque imagery. It has the contradictions of life to deal with, and the hell of meeting other people’s needs that never cared about your prosperity. Would Dick have gotten better without Quitter’s Inc.? The truth is he might’ve, but the irony is that he likely wouldn’t have pushed himself enough to get there otherwise.
That is why this whole thing seems practical as something to adapt into various adaptations. The most prominent came in the anthology film Cat’s Eye (1985) starring James Woods in the lead role, which played up the horror cliches and tapped into more surrealistic elements. There were also other interpretations, including the Bollywood film No Smoking (2007), which follows a similar train of thought. There was also the Tales from the Crypt episode “Bigalow’s Last Smoke” from 1985, which ends with him forming a new addiction to caffeine. Overall, it’s a very easy story to twist into many different ways, making it among King’s most versatile short stories.
After many hits and misses, “Quitters, Inc.” reminds readers of why King would go on to be the Master of Horror. It isn’t just the disturbing way that he builds the world. It’s the familiar lingering dread that exists on every page, finding something to tap into every reader’s strained relationship with media and loved ones. Would they want to fulfill the fantasy of a miracle cure if it solved the problem? What if it just gave them a new one? The paradox is delicious, which is why King can’t help but prolong this story to its ultimate potential. So long as someone is selling a product, there will be reason to consume. This may be a cautionary tale about cigarettes, but the scary truth is that there’s oh so much more that could put someone in a bind this suffocating.
Coming Up Next: “I Know What You Need”
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