Our supermarket had a sale on boneless chicken breasts, and a woman I know intended to stock up.
At the store, however, she was disappointed to find only a few skimpy prepackaged portions of the poultry, so she complained to the butcher.
“Don’t worry, lady,” he said.
“I’ll pack some more trays and have them ready for you by the time you finish shopping.”
Several aisles later, my friend heard the butcher’s voice boom over the public-address system:
“Will the lady who wanted bigger breasts please meet me at the back of the store.”