My grandfather used to tell a story about a country boy who went to the big city to seek his fortune, but had no luck finding a job. One day, wandering through a bad section of the city, he spotted a Help Wanted sign in the window of a Brothel.
They were looking for a bookkeeper, but after the madam quizzed the boy about his education and discovered that he could neither read or write, she turned him away.
Feeling sorry for him, she gave him two big red apples as he left. A few blocks down the street, he placed the apples on top of a garbage can while tying his shoe, and a stranger came along and offered to buy them.
The boy took the money to a produce market and bought a dozen more apples, which he sold quickly. Eventually he parlayed his fruit sales into a grocery store, then a string of supermarkets. Eventually he became the wealthiest man in the state.
Finally he was named Man of the Year, and during an interview a journalist discovered that this man could neither read or write.
“Good Lord, Sir,” he said. “What do you suppose you would have become if you had ever learned to read and write?”
“Well,” he answered, “I guess I would have been a bookkeeper in a whorehouse.”
