On my first day working at the gas station, I watched a senior co-worker measure the level of gasoline in the underground tanks by lowering a giant measuring stick down into them.
“What would happen if I threw a lit match into the hole?” I joked.
“It would go out,” he replied very matter-of-factly.
“Really?” I asked, surprised to hear that. “Is there a lack of oxygen down there or some safety device that would extinguish it before the fumes ignited?”
“No,” my co-worker continued. “The force from the explosion would most likely blow it out.”
My father is a skilled CPA who is not great at self-promotion. So, when an advertising company 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.”
Judi and Gayle were at an auto show. There they saw a hot-rod with a jacked up rear end.
“Judi, why is the back end higher than the front?” Gayle asked.
“Don’t you know ANYTHING?” Judi sighed exasperated. “If you’ve got the back up like that, then you’re always going downhill!”