When I started my business, I often employed the services of a local carpenter who also lived in my small hometown. Mr. Monk was old, even then, always wore worn-out overalls, and a small-brimmed hat. He was a fair carpenter, and an interesting man.
One day, I had him working in a larger city, building some shelves for my business. At lunch, I thought maybe I should take him out to eat. He didn't often go to town, so he might feel intimidated by the large restaurants. So I asked him to go to lunch with me.
When we went through the cafeteria line, Mr. Monk filled his tray so fast that I had to get another tray in order to hold all his food. There we were, two grown men, and three filled-to-the-brim food trays. As we passed through the dessert area, Mr. Monk picked up several pieces of pie, looked at them intently, and then put them back. The manager ran up to protest, I caught his eye, and he put all the pies on my tray.
Mr. Monk's carpenter charges might be low, but believe me, he cost me a bundle that day at lunch. We had to have a table for six in order to accommodate the food,
As he set about eating his food, he picked up a tinfoil-wrapped baked potato, held it up, squinted at it, then put it back down on his plate and began unwrapping it. His face fell as he realized it was only a large baked potato. He pushed it away, exclaiming, "Why, it ain't nothing but a damned old baked potato!"
Needless to say, he went to lunch on his own the rest of the week.
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