The brothel keeper

There was no job in that town that was less popular and less paid than that of a brothel porter... But what else could that man do? In fact, he had never learned to read or write, he had no other activity or trade. Actually, it was his because his father had been the doorman of that brothel before him, and before him, his father's father. For decades, the brothel had passed from father to son, and so had the porter's lodge.

One day, the old owner died and a young man with concerns, creative and enterprising, took over the brothel. The young man decided to modernize the business. He changed the rooms and then summoned the staff to give them new instructions. To the doorman he said: - Starting today, you, in addition to being at the door, are going to prepare a weekly report for me. There you will write down the number of couples that enter each day. One in five will be asked how they were treated and what they would correct about the place. And once a week, you will present this report to me with whatever comments you deem appropriate.

The man trembled. He had never lacked a predisposition to work, but...

'I would love to satisfy you, sir,' he stammered, 'but I…I can't read or write.

-Oh! I'm so sorry! As you will understand, I can't pay someone else to do this and I can't wait for you to learn to write, so...

-However, sir, you can't fire me. I've worked on this all my life, just like my father and grandfather...

He didn't let it finish. -Look, I understand; however, I can't do anything for you. Logically, we will give you compensation, that is, an amount of money so that you can survive until you find another job. So, I'm sorry. Good luck.

And, without further ado, he turned around and left. The man felt the world was crumbling. He had never thought that he could find himself in such a situation. He arrived at his house, unoccupied for the first time in his life. What could he do? He then remembered that sometimes, in the brothel, when a bed was broken or a cupboard leg was damaged, he would manage to make a simple and temporary repair with a hammer and some nails. He believed that this could be a transitory occupation until someone offered him a job. He searched the house for the tools he needed, finding only a few rusty nails and a dull pliers. He had to buy a complete toolbox and, for that, he would use a part of the money that he had received. At the corner of his house, he found out that there was no hardware store in his town, and that he would have to travel two days by mule to go to the nearest town to buy. "What difference does it make?" he thought. And he started walking.

On his return, he was carrying a beautiful and complete toolbox. She hadn't finished taking off her boots when there was a knock at the door of her house; he was her neighbor.

-I came to ask if you didn't have a hammer to lend me.

-Look, yes, I just bought it, but I need it to work. Since I am unemployed...

-Well, but I would return it to him very early tomorrow.

-It's okay.

The next morning, as promised, the neighbor knocked on his door.

-Look, I still need the hammer. why do not you sell it to me?

-No, I need it to work and, besides, the hardware store is two days away by mule.

"Let's make a deal," said the neighbor. -I will pay you for the two days there and the two days back, plus the price of the hammer. Total, you are out of work. What do you think?

Really, this gave him work for four days... He accepted.

Upon his return, another neighbor was waiting for him at the door of his house.

-Hello, neighbor. Did you sell our friend a hammer?

-Yes…

-I need some tools. I am willing to pay you for your four days of travel and a small profit for each of them. You know: not all of us have four days to do our shopping.

The ex-janitor opened his toolbox and his neighbor chose a pliers, a screwdriver, a hammer and a chisel. He paid her and left.

-Not all of us have four days to do our shopping…, -he remembered.

If this was true, many people might need him to travel to bring tools. On the next trip he decided that he would risk some of the severance money by bringing back more tools than he had sold. By the way, he could save time on travel.

Word began to spread through the neighborhood and many residents decided to stop traveling to do their shopping. Once a week, the now tool salesman would travel and buy what his clients needed. He soon realized that if he found a place to store the tools, he could save more trips and earn more money. So he rented a place. Later he enlarged the entrance to the store and a few weeks later he added a window, so that the store became the first hardware store in town. Everyone was happy and shopped at his store. He no longer had to travel, because the hardware store in the neighboring town sent orders for him: he was a good customer. Over time, all the buyers from small towns farther away preferred to shop at his hardware store and save two days of travel. One day, it occurred to him that his friend, the turner, could make hammer heads for him. And then… why not? Also the pliers, the tweezers and the chisels. Later came the nails and screws... Not to make the story too long, I'll tell you that in ten years that man became a millionaire tool maker, based on honesty and hard work. And he ended up being the most powerful businessman in the region. He was so powerful that one day, on the occasion of the beginning of the school year, he decided to donate a school to his town. "In addition to reading and writing, the most practical arts and crafts of the time would be taught there," he thought.

The mayor organized a great inauguration party for the school and an important tribute dinner for its founder. After dessert, the mayor handed him the keys to the city and hugging him said:

-It is with great pride and gratitude that we ask you to grant us the honor of placing your signature on the first page of the school's honor book.

"The honor would be for me," said the man, "but I don't know how to read or write." I am illiterate.

-You? –said the mayor, who didn't quite believe it- You don't know how to read or write? Did you build an industrial empire without knowing how to read or write? I am amazed. I wonder what I would have done if I had known how to read and write.

"I can tell you," the man replied calmly. –If I had known how to read and write… I would be the doorman of the brothel!