Continuing from "The Specialist" by Chick Sales:
When I finish a job, I ain't through. I give all my customers six months' privy service, free gratis. One day Luke Harkins calls me up and "Lem, I wish you'd come out here," he sez, "I'm havin' privy trouble."
So I gets in the car and drives out to Luke's place, and hid behind them Baldwins where I could get a good view of the situation. It was right in the middle of hayin' time, and them hired hands was goin' in there and staying from forty minutes to and hour. Think of that.
I sez: "Luke, you sure have got privy trouble." So I takes out my tool kit and goes in to examine the structure.
First I looks at the catalogue hangin' there, thinkin' it might be that; but it wasn't even from a recognized house. Then I looks at the seats proper, and I see what the trouble was. I had made them holes too durn comfortable. So I gets out a scroll saw and cuts 'em square with hard edges.
Then I go back and takes up my position as before--me here, the Baldwins here, and the privy there. And I watched them hands goin' in and out for nearly two hours: and not one of them was stayin' more than four minutes.
"Luke," I sez, "I've solved her". That's what comes of being a specialist.
Now to the Pratt privy stories:
As you know Great-grandfather William Bond Pratt was blind the last five of his 82 years. In order to facilitate his responses to nature's calls (and as I can attest to personally she calls frequently when you are in your 80's) a wire was strung from the back door of the house to the privy. He would hook his cane over the wire to guide himself the the privy door. Mom said they also strung a wire from the front door to the mail box so he could go out and get the mail too. Of course some one would have to read the mail to him but you have to admire his do-it-yourself spirit.
NEXT: Grandma Pratt's privy problem.
Emailed Sept. 9
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