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| Topic: A Marketing Story | |
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A lot of monkeys lived near a village. One day a merchant came to the village to buy these monkeys! He announced that he will buy the monkeys @ 100 each. The villagers thought that this man is mad. They thought how can somebody buy stray monkeys at 100 each? Still, some people caught a few monkeys and gave it to this merchant and he gave 100 for each of the monkey. This news spread like wildfire and people began trapping monkeys and selling them to the merchant. After a few days, the merchant announced that he would buy them monkeys for 200 each. The lazy villagers ran around to catch the remaining monkeys; and sold them for 200 each. Then the merchant announced that he will buy monkeys @ 500 each! The villagers start to lose sleep! ... They caught six or seven smaller monkeys which had escaped the cages. That was all that was left and got 500 each. Some of the villagers were getting anxious, waiting for the next announcement. Then the merchant announced that he was going home for a week and that when he returned he would buy monkeys @ 1000 each if the villagers could find any. He then arranged some security measures so that his book keeper could take good care of the monkeys. The merchant then went home. The villagers were very sad as there were no more monkeys left to sell at 1000 each. Then the employee informed a couple of them that he may sell some monkeys @ 700 each secretly. This news spread like fire. The next day villagers made a queue near the monkey cages. The employee very reluctantly sold the monkeys at 700 each. While the rich bought monkeys in big lots the poor borrowed from their neighbors and bought a few. The villagers took good care of their monkeys & waited for the merchant to return. But nobody came! ...Then they ran to the employee ... But he has already left too! Then it dawned to the villagers that they had bought their own useless village monkeys for a net 200 each. Isn't this how Wall Street worked! |
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Interesting story, jaish
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thanks Rosie. Bit of dark humor. Every time a politician says 'look at the stock market shooting up; never happened before my Presidency' - Trump and now Modi here; we ordinary folks are left wishing we had some of that stock. And Rosie, you are a dear. 
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thank you jaish
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I once read about a Polynesian society that used very special huge stones carved into wheels as money. When someone "paid" someone else for something they would just roll one of the stones over to the persons house. Thing is the special stones could only be found on another island miles away by sea. So every now and then some of the men would take a canoe over to the island, dig up one of the special stones, carve it into a wheel, and bring it back to the home island. One day in rough seas the canoe tipped over and the wheel rock sunk to the bottom. Not wanting to lose such a valuable commodity, when someone wanted to pay for something they would just say, "the one in the sea. It's yours now". And thus the stock market was born.
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I don't think I've posted this one before but mega apologies if I have - and also apologies for the swear word - but it's so typical outback Aussie it always gives me a giggle :)
Three Aussie blokes working up on an outback mobile phone tower: Mongrel, Coot and Bluey. As they start their descent, Coot slips, falls off the tower and is killed instantly. As the ambulance takes the body away, Bluey says, 'Well, bugger me, someone's gotta go and tell Coot's wife. Mongrel says, 'OK, I'm pretty good at that sensitive stuff, I'll do it.' Two hours later, he comes back carrying a case of Beer. Bluey says, 'Where'd you get the grog, Mongrel?' 'Coot's wife gave it to me,' Mongrel replies. 'That's unbelievable, you told the Missus her husband was dead and she gave you a case of beer?' 'Well, not exactly', Mongrel says. 'When she answered the door, I said to her, "you must be Coot's widow." She said, 'You must be mistaken. I'm not a widow.' Then I said, 'I'll betcha a case of beer you are.' Aussies are good at that sensitive stuff. |
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Yes this is how the Grand Masters of Cunning work
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