Wife Calls A Husband.
H – “Hello?”
W – “Honey, it’s me. Are you at the club?”
H – “Yes.”
W – “Great! I am at the mall two blocks from where you are. I just saw a beautiful mink coat. It’s absolutely gorgeous!! Can I buy it?”
H – “What’s the price?”
W – “Only $1,500.00.”
H – “Well, OK, go ahead and get it, if you like it that much…”
W – “Ahhh, and I also stopped by the Mercedes dealership to look at the new models…”
H – “The what?”
W – “The new Mercedes! You know, the one I’ve always dreamed of—the silver one with the cream interior. They said they could give me a
special price today.”
H – “And what… exactly… is this special price?”
W – “Only $85,000. Isn’t that amazing?”
H – deep breath “Well… if you love it that much… go ahead. But make sure it has all the options.”
W – “Oh honey, you’re the best! And one more thing—remember that beachfront house we looked at last month? The one with the huge windows and the garden?”
H – “…Yes?”
W – “It’s back on the market! They lowered the price to $950,000. I talked with the agent. Should I place an offer?”
H – long silence, muffled shouting in the background
“Fine. But offer nine hundred thousand. No more.”
W – “You’re incredible! I love you sooo much!”
H – “Yeah, yeah… just don’t buy anything else today.”
W – “Oh, of course not!”
She hangs up.
The man at the club slowly lowers the phone. All his friends stare at him, stunned. One of them finally asks:
“Wow… your wife is going to be thrilled. Are you really buying all that stuff for her?”
He smirks, takes a sip of his drink, and says:
“Of course not. That wasn’t my wife.”
The friends blink, confused.
“Wait… what do you mean it wasn’t your wife?” one of them stammers.
He leans back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face.
“I mean,” he says, swirling his drink, “I just overheard a woman on the phone pretending to be my wife. I let her think I was agreeing to all her crazy shopping—mink coats, Mercedes, beachfront houses… you name it.”
The group bursts into laughter, some shaking their heads in disbelief.
“So… what happened?” another friend asks, still laughing.
“I hung up,” he says calmly. “And she’s probably still counting on me to wire the money. Meanwhile,” he adds, raising his glass, “I just enjoyed the show—and saved nearly a million dollars in the process.”
They all laugh harder, clinking their glasses together, while he leans back, smug and unbothered, already imagining the look on her face when she realizes she picked the wrong guy to scam.
Then, one friend whispers, half-seriously:
“Man… you’ve got to teach me how to pull that off.”
He just winks.
“Rule number one,” he says, “always let them do the talking.”
