Four women were relaxing inside a warm wooden sauna, each wrapped comfortably in a white towel. The steam swirled gently around them as they enjoyed the quiet heat.
Two of the women were in their twenties, chatting softly. One was middle-aged, dignified but clearly trying to keep up with the younger crowd. The fourth was a lively senior citizen with sharp eyes and a mischievous smile.
Suddenly, a faint beep… beep… beep echoed through the steamy room.
The women looked at each other in confusion.
One of the younger women casually tapped her forearm, and the beeping stopped.
The others stared.
“Oh,” she said coolly, noticing their curiosity. “That’s my pager. I had a microchip implanted under my skin. It connects directly to my office.”
The middle-aged woman blinked. “Under your skin?”
“Totally hands-free,” the young woman replied proudly.
A few minutes later, a soft melodic ringtone chimed through the sauna.
The second young woman calmly lifted her hand to her ear and began speaking.
“Yes… I’ll approve that… Send me the file… Perfect.”
She lowered her hand and smiled at the stunned faces around her.
“That was my phone,” she explained. “Integrated microchip in my hand. Bluetooth enabled.”
The middle-aged woman shifted awkwardly, suddenly very aware that the most advanced technology she owned was a standard smartphone in her purse outside.
Before she could think of something impressive to say, the senior citizen quietly stood up and left the sauna.
The other three exchanged puzzled looks.
Moments later, the older woman returned, walking confidently back to her seat.
There was just one small detail.
A long strip of toilet paper was trailing behind her.
The three women stared in stunned silence.
Without missing a beat, the older woman glanced over her shoulder, smirked, and said:
“Well, would you look at that… I’m receiving a fax!”
🏙️ Elevator Etiquette
An elderly woman stepped into the elevator of a lavish New York City high-rise building. The interior gleamed with polished brass, mirrored walls, and soft classical music playing overhead.
On the next floor, a young, glamorous woman entered. She wore designer heels and carried herself with confident flair. The scent of expensive perfume filled the elevator.
She glanced at the older woman and said smugly,
“Ralph Lauren’s Romance. One hundred and fifty dollars an ounce.”
She smiled as if expecting admiration.
A few floors later, another elegant young woman stepped inside, equally poised and equally perfumed.
She turned to the elderly woman and said proudly,
“Chanel No. 5. Two hundred dollars an ounce.”
The elevator continued upward in silence, thick with designer fragrance and self-importance.
Finally, the elevator reached the older woman’s floor.
As the doors opened, she paused. She turned slowly to face the two glamorous women.
She looked them directly in the eye.
Then she leaned slightly to one side…
Let out a loud fart…
And said calmly:
“Broccoli. Forty-nine cents a pound.”
And with that, she stepped off the elevator, leaving the doors to close behind her stunned audience.