第三篇: The Red Mahogany Piano Many years ago, when I was a young man in my twenties, I worked as a salesman for a St Louis piano company We sold our pianos all over the state by advertising in small town newspapers and then, when we had received sufficient replies, we would load our little trucks, drive into and sell the pianos to those who had replied Every time we advertised in the cotton country of Southeast Missouri, we would receive a eply on a postcard, which said, in effect, Please bring me a new piano for my little granddaughter. It must be red mahogany. I can pay $10 a month with my egg money. "The old lady scrawled2 on and on and on that postcard until she filled it up then turned it over and even wrote on the front around and around the edges until there was barely room for the address Of course, we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month. No finance company would carry a contract with payments that small, so we ignored her postcards One day, however, I happened to be in that area calling on other replies, and out of curiosity decided to look the old lady up. I found pretty much what I expected: The old lady lived in a one-room sharecroppers3 cabin in the middle of a cotton field The cabin had a dirt floor and there were chickens in the house. Obviously, the old lady could not have qualified to purchase anything on credit no car, no phone, no real job othing but a roof over her head and not a very good one at that. I could see daylight through it in several places. Her little granddaughter was about 10, barefoot and wearing a feed sack dress I explained to the old lady that we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month and that she should stop writing to us every time she saw our ad I drove away heartsick, but my advice had no effect she still sent us the same postcard every six weeks. Always wanting a new piano, red mahogany, please, and swearing she would never miss a $10 payment. It was A couple of years later, I owned my own piano company, and when I advertised in that area the postcards started coming to me For months, I ignored them what else could I do? But then, one day when I was in the area something came over me. I had a red mahogany ly little truck. Despite knowing that I was about to make a terrible business decision, I delivered the piano to her and told her I would carry the contract myself at $10 a month with no interest, and that would mean 52 payments. I took the new piano in the house and placed it where I thought the roof would be least likely to rain on it. I admonished her第三篇：The Red Mahogany Piano Many years ago, when I was a young man in my twenties, I worked as a salesman for a St. Louis piano company. We sold our pianos all over the state by advertising in small town newspapers and then, when we had received sufficient replies, we would load our little trucks, drive into the area and sell the pianos to those who had replied. Every time we advertised in the cotton country of Southeast Missouri, we would receive a reply on a postcard, which said, in effect, “ Please bring me a new piano for my little granddaughter. It must be red mahogany. I can pay $10 a month with my egg money.” The old lady scrawled2 on and on and on that postcard until she filled it up then turned it over and even wrote on the front around and around the edges until there was barely room for the address. Of course, we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month. No finance company would carry a contract with payments that small, so we ignored her postcards. One day, however, I happened to be in that area calling on other replies, and out of curiosity I decided to look the old lady up. I found pretty much what I expected: The old lady lived in a one-room sharecroppers3 cabin in the middle of a cotton field. The cabin had a dirt floor and there were chickens in the house. Obviously, the old lady could not have qualified to purchase anything on credit no car, no phone, no real job, nothing but a roof over her head and not a very good one at that. I could see daylight through it in several places. Her little granddaughter was about 10, barefoot and wearing a feed sack dress. I explained to the old lady that we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month and that she should stop writing to us every time she saw our ad. I drove away heartsick, but my advice had no effect she still sent us the same postcard every six weeks. Always wanting a new piano, red mahogany, please, and swearing she would never miss a $10 payment. It was sad. A couple of years later, I owned my own piano company, and when I advertised in that area, the postcards started coming to me. For months, I ignored them what else could I do? But then, one day when I was in the area something came over me. I had a red mahogany piano on my little truck. Despite knowing that I was about to make a terrible business decision, I delivered the piano to her and told her I would carry the contract myself at $10 a month with no interest, and that would mean 52 payments. I took the new piano in the house and placed it where I thought the roof would be least likely to rain on it. I admonished4 her