We Can’t Work

A fellow stopped at a rural gas station and, after filling his tank, he bought a soft drink. He stood by his car to drink his cola and he watched a couple of men working along the roadside.

One man would dig a hole two or three feet deep and then move on. The other man came along behind and filled in the hole. While one was digging a new hole, the other was about 25 feet behind filling in the old.

“Hold it, hold it,” the fellow said to the men. “Can you tell me what’s going on here with this digging?”

“Well, we work for the county government,” one of the men said.

“But one of you is digging a hole and the other is filling it up. You’re not accomplishing anything. Aren’t you wasting the county’s money?”

“You don’t understand, mister,” one of the men said, leaning on his shovel and wiping his brow. “Normally there’s three of us, me, Joe and Mike. I dig the hole, Joe sticks in the tree and Mike here puts the dirt back.”

“Yea,” piped up Mike. “Now just because Joe is sick, that doesn’t mean we can’t work, does it?”