Business stories, hmmm? How about this one?
The farmer was out plowing his field when his big bay hoss dropped dead in the furrow -- something that hoss had never done before. (And would never do again.) Thinking quick, the farmer rode his other hoss five miles up the road to his neighbor’s house. “Charlie,” the farmer said, “how would you trade your white hoss for my big bay?”
Charlie said he’d trade even. And they shook on it.
“Well, Charlie,” the farmer said, “my big bay hoss lies dead in the furrow.”
Charlie says, “My white hoss died three weeks ago. And his skin is hanging in the barn.”
Or this one?
Linwood Rogers used to sell picnic tables out in front of his house on the Shaker Road in Canterbury. This was a while back -- the tables sold for $16 each.
Fella stopped by in a pickup truck. He says, “How long does it take you to build one of those $16 picnic tables, Linwood?”
Linwood says, “About four hours.”
Thinking quick, the fella says, “That’s about $4 an hour, isn’t it?”
Linwood agrees that it is.
Fella says, “Can you build me a picnic table for $3 an hour?”
Linwood says, “Sure, but it’ll take a little longer.”
Or maybe the true story (they’re all true, more or less) about the Maine potato farmer who walked into a greenhouse in Swansey Center, explained that his wife was feeling poorly and couldn’t accompany him on his trip to NH, so he wanted to bring her back a little something as a gift.
The proprietor showed him a beautiful big pot of blood red geraniums. “How much?” the farmer said.
“Seven dollars and ninety-five cents.”
“She ain’t that sick,” the farmer said. And bought a flat of petunias for $1.99.