If you can’t beat them, arrange
to have them beaten.
~George Carlin~
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During a beautiful spring afternoon, I was attending the Cheat River Festival in West Virginia. Just as I stopped to listen to a folk singer, a group of exhibitors, dragging out tools and sawhorses, began setting up their display booth nearby. All their shouting and hammering made it difficult to enjoy the music. The noise they made got louder and even more obnoxious and intrusive as time went on.
Finally, to everyone’s relief, they completed the construction. As a finishing touch, they hung a sign on their booth. It read “Silent Auction.”
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On vacation in Hawaii, my step- mom, Sandy, called a café to make reservations for 7 p.m. Checking her book, the cheery young hostess said, "I’m sorry, all we have is 6:45. Would you like that?"
"That’s fine," Sandy said.
"Okay," the woman confirmed. Then she added, "Just be advised you may have to wait 15 minutes for your table."
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My father is a skilled CPA who is not great at self-promotion. So when an advertising salesman offered to put my father’s business placard in the shopping carts of a supermarket, my dad jumped at the chance. Fully a year went by before we got a call that could be traced to those placards. “Richard Larson, CPA?” the caller asked.
“That’s right,” my father answered. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” the voice said. “One of your shopping carts is in my yard and I want you to come and get it.”
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A friend of mine was enjoying his new car’s powerful sound system by driving along with the volume way up. At a traffic light, he heard someone shout, "Hey, do you mind?"
Stopped next to him was a young man in an open convertible. He pointed to an object in his hand and said, "Can’t you see I’m on the phone?"
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My husband, Daniel, had been promoted to a newly created position. He was eager to find out what his official title was, so when his business cards finally arrived, I was surprised that he seemed reluctant to show me. After some persuasion, Daniel gave me a card, naming him director of product efficiency. “Wow,” I responded, “that sounds impressive.”
“Not really,” Daniel replied as he removed my thumb from the acronym underneath. It read DOPE
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Stuck in rush-hour traffic, I couldn’t help but stare when a burly biker wearing black leather jacket and chaps pulled up next to me on a shocking pink Harley Davidson. My first thoughts were, “Is that really a pink Harley? I wonder if he’s…”
Just then the traffic cleared and he pulled in front of me. On the back of his helmet were stenciled the words “Yes it is. No I’m not.”
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While waiting in line at the Department of Vehicle Services for my new license plate, I heard the clerk shout out, “E I E I O.” “Here,” the woman standing next to me answered.
Curious, I asked if she was married to a farmer, or maybe taught preschool.
“Neither,” she replied. “My name is McDonald.”
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Working as a telemarketer for MCI Communications, I made a call to a Minnesota home one evening. When a boy around eight answered the phone, I identified myself, told him I was calling for MCI and asked to speak to his parents.
As he put the phone down, I heard him yell, “Dad! Dad! The FBI wants to talk to you!”
As soon as the father answered the phone in a quivering voice, I said, “Sir, this is not the FBI; this is MCI Communications.”
After a long pause, the man said, “This is the first time I am actually glad to hear from you guys.”
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Sitting in the first row of coach class during a lengthy flight, my wife and I were able to hear a flight attendant as he pushed a wine cart down the aisle in the first-class section. “Would you care for chardonnay or burgundy?” he asked the high-paying passengers.
A few minutes later the attendant opened the curtain between the two sections, offered wine to one final first-class patron, then wheeled the same cart forward to our aisle. “Excuse me,” he said, looking down at us, “would you care for a glass of wine? We have white and red.”
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In honor of Memorial Day, the teacher I worked with read the Constitution to her third-grade class.
After reading “We the people,” she paused to ask the children what they thought that meant.
One boy raised his hand and asked, “Is that like ‘We da bomb?’ ”
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There were only two people in line ahead of me at the electronics store, yet the wait was dragging on forever. Finally the customer behind me muttered, “Mr. Hare must be on vacation.”
Only then did I notice the name tag on the man at the register. It read: “Mr. Turtle, sales associate.”
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When our air conditioner broke down, we called for a serviceman to come and take a look at it. It turned out to be a high school classmate of my husband’s named Love. He said next time we needed any repairs to ask for him. The next year when we needed service again, we requested Mr. Love. I took the day off from work and waited for him to arrive.
After he had worked on our air conditioner, he left his work order behind. It had my name and said: “Wants Love in afternoon.”
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As a freelance secretary, I type story manuscripts. When an author pays me, I print the name of the story across the top of his check. Once when I took a check to the bank, the teller suddenly froze. Only after I had explained my procedure to a bank officer did the reason for the teller’s reaction become clear.
The story was called “Your Money or Your Life,” and that, of course, was what I had written in bold letters across the top of the check.
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Driving across the country, my husband and I were admiring one beautiful old Southern town while stopped at a red light. We sat there taking in the elegant storefronts, the beautiful trees and other sights, not noticing that the light had turned green and back to red again.
It was then that a police officer walked up to the car and tapped on my husband’s window. “That’s all the colors we got here,” he drawled.
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When I was a rookie police officer, I was flustered by citizens who got upset if I gave them a traffic ticket. They would accuse me of trying to complete my quota for the month. Then a veteran officer gave me some useful advice.
The next motorist I stopped sarcastically commented, “I guess this will help you reach your quota.”
I smiled and, repeating my mentor’s words, replied, “No, sir, they took our quota away. Now we can write as many as we want.”
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When Fred Phillips, retired public-safety director and police chief of Johnson City, Tennessee, was a regular police officer, he and his partner pulled over an unlicensed motorist. They asked the man to follow them to the police station, but while en route they spotted a North Carolina vehicle whose license plate and driver matched the description in an all-points bulletin. The officers took off in a high-speed chase and finally stopped the wanted man’s car.
Minutes later, as the felon was being arrested, the unlicensed motorist drove up. “If y’all will just tell me how to get to the station, I’ll wait for you there,” he said. “I’m having a heck of a time keeping up with you.”
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Good morning everyboomie.
Break's over.....back on your heads.
I hope the new week has lot's of good stuff in store for you all.
I'm playing it by ear.
Have a happy day everyone.
joe
acebook
witter
I didn't worry for the first 5 minutes, got a bit concerned at 10 minutes past, and was in a full blown panic by 30 minutes past. I had checked neighborhood, hubby had checked neighborhood, I had interrogated a couple of their friends, etc. Sent hubby to check one more spot before calling son at work to say "boys are missing". Voila...hubby met them slowly making their way home. 
