Speaking of deposits . .

Way back in 1973 I was staying in Oklahoma. My host Dad Jim was vice-president of the local bank. One morning he and his friend Tom the president were chatting, OK coffee-strategising, in Tom’s office when one of the ladies popped her head in: “It’s opening time and a dog has left a great big “do” right in the entrance. It needs to be cleaned up”.

Tom looks at Jim: “Well Jim, you’re in charge of deposits!”

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