MAKs Ponder Over This

Ponder over this...

Then , I am going to tell you a little story:

His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a
living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his
tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy,
screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have
been a slow and terrifying death. The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's
sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as
the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.

"I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life."

"No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the
offer.

At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel. "Is that your
son?" the nobleman asked. "Yes," the farmer replied proudly.

"I'll make you a deal. Let me take him and give him a good education. If the lad is
anything like his father, he'll grow to a man you can be proud of."

And that he did. In time, Farmer Fleming's son graduated from St Mary's Hospital Medical
School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir
Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.

Years afterward, the nobleman's son was stricken with pneumonia.

What saved him? Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill.
His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill.

Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody's watching.

Thanks to Norma Jenning for providing this story.

The Doll and a White Rose

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas gifts. I
looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just
had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I kinda wished that I
could just sleep through Christmas.

But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I
kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys. And wondered if the grandkids
would even play with them.

I found myself in the doll aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy, about 5,
holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not
seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered who the doll
was for.

I watched him turn to a woman, and he called his aunt by name and said, "Are you sure I
don't Have enough money?" She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don't have
enough money for it." The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere, that she had to go
get some other things and would be back in a few minutes. And then she left the aisle.

The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for. He
said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa
would bring it." I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it.

He said, "No, Santa can't go where my sister is...I have to give the doll to my Mamma to
take to her". I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and
said, "She has gone to be with Jesus."

"My Daddy says that Mama is going to have to go be with her." My heart nearly stopped
beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell Mama not to go
yet. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store". When he asked me if I
wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to. He pulled out some pictures he had
taken at the front of the store.

He said "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she don't ever forget me." "I love my
Mama so very much and I wish she did not have to leave me". But Daddy says she will need to
be with my sister."

I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet. While he was
not looking, I reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills. I asked the little
boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?" He grew excited and said "Yes, I just know
it has to be enough". So I slipped my money in with his, and we began to count it. Of
course it was plenty for the doll. He softly said, "Thank you, Jesus, for giving me enough
money." Then the boy said "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll, so
Mama can take it with her, to give to my sister."

"And He heard my prayer." "I wanted to ask Him for enough to buy my Mama a white rose, but
I didn't ask Him, but He gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Mama." "She loves
white roses so very, very much".

In a few minutes the aunt came back, and I wheeled my cart away. I could not keep from
thinking about the little boy, as I finished my shopping in a totally different spirit
than when I had started.

And I kept remembering a story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier, about a
drunk driver hitting a car and killing a little girl, and the Mother was in serious
condition. The family was deciding on whether to remove the life support. Now surely this
little boy did not belong with that story.

Two days later, I read in the paper where the family had disconnected the life support and
the young woman had died. I could not forget the little boy, and just kept wondering if the
two were somehow connected.

Later that day, I could not help myself and I went out and bought some white roses and took
them to the funeral home, where the young woman was. And there she was, holding a lovely
white rose, the beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store. I left there
in tears, my life changed forever. The love that little boy had for his little sister and
his mother was overwhelming. And in a split second a drunk driver had ripped the life of
that little boy to pieces.

"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to
fly"

A special thanks to my cousin Beth, whose faith is stronger then most of our religions...

The Smile

An inspiring story that will touch your hearts....... I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12,
3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was sociology.
The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had
been graced with. Her last project of the term was called "Smile."

The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am
a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway, so I thought this
would be a piece of cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband,
youngest son, and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of
sharing special play time with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when
all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did
not move an inch...an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to
see why they had moved. As I turned around, I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell, and
there standing behind me were two, poor, homeless men. As I looked down at the short
gentleman, close to me, he was "smiling". His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's
light as he searched for acceptance. He said, "Good day," as he counted the few coins he
had been clutching.

The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second
man was mentally deficient, and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears
as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said, "Coffee is all, Miss,"
because that was all they could afford. To sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to
buy something (they just wanted to be warm). Then I really felt it... the compulsion was so
great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.

That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me...judging my every action.
I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on
a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a
resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman's cold
hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you."

I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you... God is here
working through me to give you hope." I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband
and son. When I sat down, my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me,
Honey....to give me hope." We held hands for moment and at that time we knew that only
because of the Grace that we had been given were we able to give. That day showed me the
pure light of God's sweet love. I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with
this story in hand.

I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it. Then she looked up at me and said,
"Can I share this?" I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read
and that is when I knew that we, as human beings and being part of God, share this need to
heal people and be healed. In my own way, I had touched the people at McDonald's, my
husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent
as a college student. I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn....
UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE. . Learn how to LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS - NOT LOVE THINGS AND
USE PEOPLE.

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Six Great Lessons: The Important Things Life Teaches You...

~ 1 ~ Most Important Question

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop
quiz.

I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last
one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was some
kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and
in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question
blank. Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our
quiz grade.

"Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers you will meet many people. All are
significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say
'Hello'."

I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

~ 2 ~ Pickup in the Rain

One night, at 11:30 PM, an older African American woman was standing on the side of an
Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she
desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young
white man stopped to help her - generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The
man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab. She seemed
to be in a big hurry! She wrote down his address, thanked him and drove away.

Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console
color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached. It read: "Thank you so
much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes
but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my
dying husband's bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and
unselfishly serving others." Sincerely, Mrs Nat King Cole

~ 3 ~ Always remember those who serve

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel
coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

"How much is an ice cream sundae?"

"Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and
studied a number of coins in it.

"How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a
table and the waitress was a bit impatient.

"Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins.

"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy
finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she
began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly
beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

~ 4 ~ The Obstacle in Our Path

In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched
to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and
courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping
the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out of the way.

Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the
peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much
pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. As the peasant picked up his load of vegetables,
he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many
gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed t
he boulder from the roadway.

The peasant learned what many others never understand. Every obstacle presents an
opportunity to improve one's condition.

~ 5 ~ Giving Blood

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little
girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of
recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had
miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies, needed to combat
the illness.

The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be
willing to give his blood to his sister.

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do
it if it will save Liz."

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did,
seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He
looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?"

Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give
his sister all of his blood.

~ 6 ~ I've Two Choices

Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had
something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply,
"If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several
waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters
followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator.

If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on
the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him,
"I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?"

Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today.
You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood." I choose to be
in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose
to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.

Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I
can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes, it is," Jerry said, "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every
situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will
affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your
choice how you live life."

I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my
own business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice about life
instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a
restaurant business, he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gun point by
three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness,
slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him.

Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18
hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with
fragments of the bullets still in his body.

I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he said, "If
I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds but did
ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place.

"The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door,"
Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices - I could
choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live.

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued,
"The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they
wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and
nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man. " I knew I needed to
take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I
was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they
waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!'

Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive,
not dead."

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I
learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is
everything.

A special thanks to Norma Jennings, who always choses to look at the bright side...

When I'm ready to reason with a man, I spend one-third of my time thinking about myself and
what I am going to say -- and two-thirds thinking about him and what he is going to say."
Abraham Lincoln

Try this the next time: The best way to get the last word is to apologize.

It is NOT true that banks have no sense of humor. After all, they were the ones who coined
the phrase, "easy payments."

Written by Danny Dutton, age 8, from Chula Vista, California, for his third grade homework
assignment to "Explain God."

"One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there
will be enough people to take care of things on earth.

He doesn't make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make.
That way, He doesn't have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can
just leave that to mothers and fathers.

God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since
some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn't have time
to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because He hears everything there must be a
terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off.

God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere which keeps Him pretty busy. So
you shouldn't go wasting His time by going over your mom and dad's head asking for something
they said you couldn't have.

Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista.
At least there aren't any who come to our church.

Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing
miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got
tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him.

But He was good and kind like His Father and He told His Father that they didn't know what
they were doing and to forgive them and God said OK.

His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told
Him He didn't have to go out on the road anymore, He could stay in heaven. So He did.

And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for
God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God.
Like a secretary only more important.

You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to hear you because they got it worked out so
one of them is on duty all the times.

You should always go to Church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you
want to make happy, it's God.

Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is
wrong! And, besides, the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway.

If you don't believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your
parents can't go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can. It is good to know He's
around you when you're scared in the dark or when you can't swim very good and you get thrown
into real deep water by big kids.

But you shouldn't just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and
He can take me back anytime He pleases.

And that's why I believe in God."

TWO LONGS AND A SHORT

by Dick Pence
Copyright 1997

[Note: This story, adapted to various changing events, has appeared in more than 150 newspapers
and magazines since it was first written about 1984. The following version appeared in The
Washington Post in 1991, shortly after a computer glitch caused a "long-distance blackout" on
the East Coast.]

Those big phone outages of the past couple of weeks have had me feeling a bit guilty over
what's been happening. You see, I remember exactly how all this started.

Back in 1950 I was a novice seahand aboard a cruiser based in Philadelphia, barely six months
out of high school and fresh from the plains of South Dakota. One Friday night in November, we
were granted shore leave at the end of a two-week training cruise. Homesick and seasick, I
headed immediately for the row of pay phones that lined the dock.

Depositing a carefully preserved nickel (remember?), I dialed "O." The following is a roughly
verbatim account of what transpired after the Philadelphia operator answered.

"I'd like to place a station-to-station collect call to the Bob Pence residence in Columbia,
South Dakota," I said in my best telephone voice.

The Philadelphia operator was sure she had heard wrong.

"You mean Columbia, South Carolina, don't you?"

"No, I mean Columbia, South Dakota." I had tried to call home once before and I was ready for
that one.

"Certainly. What is the number, please?" I could tell she still didn't believe me.

"They don't have a number," I mumbled. Like I said, I'd tried to call home before and I knew
what was coming.

She was incredulous. "They don't have a number?"

"I don't think so."

"I can't complete the call without a number. Do you have it?" she demanded.

I didn't relish being even more of a bumpkin, but I was in the Navy and I knew authority when I
heard it.

"Well, the only thing I know is . . . TWO LONGS AND A SHORT."

I think that's the first time she snorted. "Never mind. I'll get the number for you. One moment
please."

There followed an audible click and a long period of silence while she apparently first
determined if, indeed, there was a Columbia, South Dakota, and then if it was possible to call
there. When she returned to the line, she was armed with the not-insignificant knowledge
necessary to complete her task.

In deliberate succession, she dialed an operator in Cleveland, asked her to dial one in
Chicago, asked Chicago to dial Minneapolis, and Minneapolis to dial Sioux City, Iowa. Sioux
City called Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and the operator there dialed one in Aberdeen, South
Dakota. At last, Aberdeen dialed the operator in Columbia.

By this time, Philadelphia's patience was wearing thin, but when Columbia answered, she knew
what had to be done.

"The number for the Bob Pence residence, please," she said, now in control.

Columbia didn't even hesitate. "That's two longs and a short," she declared.

Philadelphia was set back for an instant, but valiantly plowed on. "I have a collect call from
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, for anyone at that number. Would you please ring?"

"They're not home," said Columbia, again not missing a beat.

Philadelphia digested this and decided not to press the issue. Instead, she relayed the
message I'd already heard:

"There is no one at that number, sir. Would you like to try again later?"

Columbia quickly interrupted: "Is that you, Dick?"

"Yeah, Margaret. Where are the folks?"

Philadelphia was baffled, but her instincts told her to look out for the company.

"Sir, madam . . . you can't . . .," she sputtered.

Margaret ignored her. "They're up at the school house at the basketball game. Want me to ring?"

I knew I was pushing my luck with Philadelphia, so I said it likely would be too much trouble
to get them out of the game.

"No trouble at all," said Margaret. "It's halftime."

Philadelphia made one last effort. Mustering her most official tone, she insisted: "But this is
a station-to-station collect call!"

"You just never mind, honey," said Columbia, "I'll just put it on Bob's bill."

Philadelphia was still protesting when the phone rang and was answered at the school house.

"I have a station-to-station collect call for Bob Pence," she said, knowing at that instant Ma
Bell had somehow been had.

"This is he," replied my father.

"Go ahead," whispered an astonished Philadelphia.

I'm glad I couldn't see her face when I began my end of the conversation in the time-honored
fashion of all Mid-Westerners:

"Hi, Dad, it's me. How's the weather?"

"Jeez," said Philadelphia and clicked off.

Here is the confession. I have a friend who's retired from AT&T and he insists it was the
next Monday morning that the company began to automate its long-distance service.

Now look where we are.

[Reprinted from TWO LONGS AND A SHORT AND OTHER TALES OF THE OLD WEST, a collection of
anecdotes about growing up in small-town America, by Richard A. Pence. Copyright, 1997.
Used with permission. You can order directly from the author via e-mail
(he will bill you). Single copies $11.95, plus $1.50 postage;
for quantity prices or for information on ordering by regular mail, go to:
.]

The difference between a conviction and a prejudice is that you can explain a conviction
without getting angry."

A letter supposedly received by a bank recently and printed in the New York Times...

Dear Valued Bank Manager,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing the check with which I endeavored to pay my
plumber last month. By my calculations, some three nanoseconds must have elapsed
between his presenting the check, and the arrival in my account of the funds needed
to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary,
an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years. You are to be
commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account
in the amount of $50, a penalty for the inconvenience I caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to re-think
my errant financial ways. You have set me on the path of fiscal righteousness. No more
will our relationship be blighted by these unpleasant incidents, for I am restructuring
my affairs in 1999, taking as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very
own bank. I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and proud
to hear it. To this end, please be advised about the following changes:

First, I have noticed that, whereas, I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters,
when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, ever-changing, pre-recorded,
faceless entity, which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh and blood person. My mortgage and
loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your
bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee of your branch, whom
you must nominate. You will be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other
person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an "Application For Contact Status" which
I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that
I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please
note that all copies of his/her medical history must be countersigned by a Justice of the Peace,
and that the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and
liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I will issue your employee
with a PIN number, which he/she must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be
shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required to
access my account balance on your phone bank service.

As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Let me level the playing field even
further by introducing you to my new telephone system, which you will notice, is very much like yours.

My Authorized Contact at your bank, the only person with whom I will have any dealings, may call
me at any time and will be answered by an automated voice. By pressing buttons on the phone,
he/she will be guided through an extensive set of menus:

1. To make an appointment to see me;
2. To query a missing repayment;
3. To make a general complaint or inquiry;
4. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there; Extension of living room to be
communicated at the time the call is received;
5. To transfer the call to my bed room in case I am still sleeping; Extension of bed room to
be communicated at the time the call is received;
6. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature; Extension of toilet to
be communicated at the time the call is received;
7. To transfer the call to my mobile phone, in the event I am not at home;
8. To leave a message on my computer; To leave a message, a password to access my computer is
required. Password will be communicated at a later date to the contact;
9. To return to the main menu and listen carefully to options 1 through 8.

The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.
While this may on occasion involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration.
This month we've chosen a refrain from, "The Best Of Woody Guthrie": .......

Oh, the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are filled with silver
That the miners sweated for!

After twenty minutes of that, our mutual contact will probably know it by heart. On a more
serious note, we come to the matter of cost. As your bank has often pointed out, the ongoing
drive for greater efficiency comes at a cost which you have always been quick to pass on to me.

Let me repay your kindness by passing some costs back. First, there is the matter of advertising
material you send me. This I will read for a fee of $20 per page. Inquiries from your nominated
contact will be billed at $5 per minute of my time spent in response.

Any debits to my account, as, for example, in the matter of the penalty for the dishonored check,
will be passed back to you. My new phone service runs at 75 cents a minute (even Woody Guthrie
doesn't come for free), so you would be well advised to keep your inquiries brief and to the
point. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to
cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your humble client,
Peter

Passed on by Kenneth Sympson .

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