We had our luncheon saluting the annual United Way fund drive at work the other day. I've been involved with that since 1989 on the accounting side, which leads me to the old joke about a pilot coming on the loudspeaker and informing his passengers that all the engines are dying and the plane is losing power and they are going to put it down in the middle of Lake Erie. A guy sitting in the coach section sees that the man in the next seat is a minister, so he goes, "Reverend? Do you think if the crash turns out fatal, we'll go to heaven?"
And the sinbuster says, "That would be up to Administration. My department has always been Sales."
Well, it cracks them up at the preacher's convention. Anyway, since I'm a guy not known to be adept with numbers nor adroit with ciphering, I guess I got into this all those years ago because I'm too a) dumb and b) honest to c) steal. So I enjoy it, and it's been a great way to know some really nice people.
And at the luncheon, they have a little raffle drawing with door prizes. And they asked me to step up and pull out a winning stub. And I did, and the prize was a nice gift card to a nice restaurant where Peggy has always wished to dine (as opposed to the greasy spoons and rib joints where I take her.)
Well, she's gonna go to the swanky bistro, because I was the winner. Eyes closed and looking the other way, I pulled my own ticket number out of the basket. And here was the winning stub:
I like all those 7's! They finally paid off (I knew they would!)
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