Salesman at the Lacey Motel
At the corporation’s national sales meeting got underway one particularly cocky salesman was approached by a stern-looking man.
“Excuse me,” he said, “are you Bo Jones?”
“That’s me,” the confident young man replied. “Bo Jones is the name, selling is the game.”
“Tell me, were you in Atlanta two months ago?”
Jones began leafing through his day planner, “Two months ago. Why, yes, I sure was.”
And did you stay at the Lacey Motel?”
“Now, let me see. Yes here it’s, the Lacey Motel.”
“And did you stay in room 3121?”
“Hang on,” he murmured, as he turned a page, “Yes, I did.”
“Next to a Mrs. Porter?”
“Mrs. Porter? Hmmmm… Why, yes, she was in room 3123.”
“And you slept with her on Saturday night?”
“Just a second,” the salesman replied as he checked his entries. “Yes, your right. I did give her a bit of the in-and-out.”
The stranger turned bright red. “Well, I’m her husband, Mr. Jones, and I don’t like it!”
The salesman looked at his book again. “Mrs. Porter, Lacey Motel 3123,” he read. “No, sir, neither did I!”
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