The brothel doorman

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

One day, the old owner died and a restless, creative and enterprising young man took over the brothel. The young man decided to modernise the business. He modified the rooms and then summoned the staff to give them new instructions. To the doorman he said: "From today, you will not only be at the door, but you will also prepare a weekly report for me. You will write down the number of couples who come in each day. For every fifth one, you will ask them how they were treated and what they would correct about the place. And once a week, you will present that report to me with any comments you think are appropriate.

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

-I'd love to satisfy you, sir," he stammered, "but I - I can't read or write.

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

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

He would not let him finish. -Look, I understand, but there is nothing I can do for you. Of course, we will give you compensation, that is, a sum of money to tide you over until you find another job. So I am sorry. Good luck to you.

And, without further ado, he turned and left. The man felt as if the world was falling apart. He had never thought he could find himself in such a situation. He arrived home, unemployed for the first time in his life. What could he do? Then he remembered that sometimes, in the brothel, when a bed broke or a wardrobe leg was damaged, he managed to make a simple, temporary fix with a hammer and nails. He thought this could be a temporary occupation until someone offered him a job. He looked around the house for the tools he needed, only to find a few rusty nails and a dented pair of pliers. He had to buy a complete toolbox, and for that he would use some of the money he had received. At the corner of his house he found out that there was no hardware store in his village, and that he would have to travel two days by mule to go to the nearest village to buy. -What difference does it make, he thought. And he set off.

On his return, he was carrying a beautiful and complete toolbox. He had not finished taking off his boots when there was a knock on his door; it was his neighbour.

-I came to ask him if he wouldn't have a hammer to lend me.

-Look, yes, I just bought it, but I need it for work. As I've lost my job...

-Well, but I would give it back to him very early tomorrow morning.

-It's OK.

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

-Look, I still need the hammer. Why don't you sell it to me?

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

-Let's make a deal," said the neighbour. -I'll pay you for two days there and two days back, plus the price of the hammer. Anyway, you're out of work. What do you say?

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

On his return, another neighbour was waiting for him outside his house.

-Hello, neighbour, did you sell a hammer to our friend?

-Yes...

-I need some tools. I'm willing to pay you for your four days' travel and a small profit for each of them. You know, we don't all have four days to do our shopping.

The ex-porter opened his toolbox and his neighbour chose a pliers, a screwdriver, a hammer and a chisel. He paid him and left.

-We don't all have four days to do our shopping...," he reminded.

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 compensation money by bringing more tools than he had sold. In the process, he could save time on travel.

Word began to spread in the neighbourhood and many neighbours decided to stop travelling to do their shopping. Once a week, the now tool salesman would travel and buy what his customers needed. He soon realised that if he could find a place to store the tools, he could save more trips and make more money. So he rented premises. Then he enlarged the entrance to the store and a few weeks later added a shop window, so that the shop became the first hardware store in the village. Everyone was happy and bought from his shop. He no longer had to travel, because the hardware store in the neighbouring village sent him his orders: he was a good customer. Eventually, all the shoppers from smaller towns further away preferred to shop at his hardware store and save two days' travel time. One day, it occurred to him that his friend, the lathe operator, could make hammer heads for him. And then, why not, he could also make pliers, tongs and chisels. Later came nails and screws... To make a long story short, I'll tell you that in ten years that man became a millionaire toolmaker, through honesty and hard work. And he ended up being the most powerful businessman in the region. So powerful was he that one day, at the beginning of the school year, he decided to donate a school to his village. -In addition to reading and writing, it would teach the most practical arts and crafts of the time," he thought.

The mayor organised a big party to inaugurate the school and an important dinner to pay tribute to its founder. At dessert, the mayor handed him the keys to the city and hugged him and said:

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

-The honour would be mine," said the man, "but I can neither read nor write. I am illiterate.

-You? -You can't read or write? You built an industrial empire without knowing how to read or write? I am amazed. I wonder what I would have done if I could read and write.

-I can tell you," replied the man calmly. -If I had known how to read and write, I'd be the porter of the whorehouse!