A Visit To Goldblatt's

One of the endless humanitarian perks of being the SJG is that from time to time, someone shares something funny with me, and according to the bylaws of The Society of the Neurotically Inclined, I'm obligated to share it with you, or else. Or else what? Who knows? I don't want to find out. So, this story comes to you courtesy of my friend Bill Stivelman, who begged me not to give him credit, in case his late Great Aunt Kissy Moskowitz reads my blog from the Great Beyond and scolds him, posthumously. Here it is, anyway. I can only hope Bill forgives me for crossing the line... a line, I believe, he crossed by sending me this story in the first place:

Early one Saturday morning after temple, Mrs. Moskowitz arrives at Goldblatt's Department Store in Chicago and goes to the fourth floor. The elevator opens and she's greeted by a young salesman. "How may I help you, ma'am?" he asks. Mrs. Moskowitz replies, "I vant piece sexual furniture." Baffled, the young man doesn't know what to say or what to show her. "I'll go get the manager," he says, and disappears into the back of the store. A few minutes later, the floor manager arrives, instantly recognizes Mrs. Moskowitz, shakes her hand and exchanges niceties about her family and children. "How can I help you today, Mrs. Moskowitz?" he asks. "I vant piece sexual furniture," she explains. The floor manager smiles, politely. "Hmmm. Could you want sectional furniture?" Mrs. Moskowitz looks at him and shrugs. "Sexual. Sectional. All I vant is an occasional piece."