I
was inspecting communications facilities in Alaska . Since I had little
experience in flying in small planes, I was nervous when we approached a
landing strip in a snow-covered area. The pilot descended to just a couple
hundred feet, then gunned both engines, climbed, and circled back. While my heart
pounded, the passenger beside me seemed calm.
"I wonder why he didn't land," I said.
"He was checking to see if the landing strip was plowed," the man said.
As we made a second approach, I glanced out the window. "It looks plowed to me," I commented.
"No," my seat mate said. "It hasn't been cleared for some time."
"How can you tell?" I asked.
"Because," the man informed me, "I'm the guy who drives the plow."
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As the bus pulled away, I realized I had left my purse under the seat. Later I called the company and was relieved that the driver had found my bag.
When I went to pick it up, several off-duty bus drivers surrounded me. One man handed me my pocketbook, two typewritten pages, and a box containing the contents of my purse. "We're required to inventory lost wallets and purses," he explained. "I think you'll find everything there."
As I started to put my belongings back into the pocketbook, the man continued. "I hope you don't mind if we watch. Even though we all tried, none of us could fit everything into your purse. And we'd like to see just how you do it."
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My wife and I run a small restaurant where we often name our specials after our employees. Dishes like: "Chicken Mickey," after our dishwasher who gave us the recipe, and "Rod's Ribs," after a waiter who had his personal style of barbecue.
One evening after rereading the menu, I broke with this tradition and changed the description of the special we had named after our chef. Despite her skills and excellent reputation, somehow I didn't think an entree named: "Salmon Ella" would go over big with our customers.
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A Jewish man took his Passover lunch to eat outside in the park. He sat down on a bench and began eating. Since Jews do not eat leavened bread during the eight day holiday, he was eating Matzo, a flat crunchy unleavened bread that has dozens of perforations.
A little while later a blind man came by and sat down next to him. Feeling neighborly, the Jewish man passed a sheet of matzo to the blind man.
The blind man handled the matzo for a few minutes, looked puzzled, and finally exclaimed, "Who wrote this garbage?"
"I wonder why he didn't land," I said.
"He was checking to see if the landing strip was plowed," the man said.
As we made a second approach, I glanced out the window. "It looks plowed to me," I commented.
"No," my seat mate said. "It hasn't been cleared for some time."
"How can you tell?" I asked.
"Because," the man informed me, "I'm the guy who drives the plow."
-----------------------
As the bus pulled away, I realized I had left my purse under the seat. Later I called the company and was relieved that the driver had found my bag.
When I went to pick it up, several off-duty bus drivers surrounded me. One man handed me my pocketbook, two typewritten pages, and a box containing the contents of my purse. "We're required to inventory lost wallets and purses," he explained. "I think you'll find everything there."
As I started to put my belongings back into the pocketbook, the man continued. "I hope you don't mind if we watch. Even though we all tried, none of us could fit everything into your purse. And we'd like to see just how you do it."
----------------------
My wife and I run a small restaurant where we often name our specials after our employees. Dishes like: "Chicken Mickey," after our dishwasher who gave us the recipe, and "Rod's Ribs," after a waiter who had his personal style of barbecue.
One evening after rereading the menu, I broke with this tradition and changed the description of the special we had named after our chef. Despite her skills and excellent reputation, somehow I didn't think an entree named: "Salmon Ella" would go over big with our customers.
-----------------------
A Jewish man took his Passover lunch to eat outside in the park. He sat down on a bench and began eating. Since Jews do not eat leavened bread during the eight day holiday, he was eating Matzo, a flat crunchy unleavened bread that has dozens of perforations.
A little while later a blind man came by and sat down next to him. Feeling neighborly, the Jewish man passed a sheet of matzo to the blind man.
The blind man handled the matzo for a few minutes, looked puzzled, and finally exclaimed, "Who wrote this garbage?"
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