Four women were relaxing together in a warm sauna, each wrapped comfortably in a towel, enjoying a peaceful break from their busy routines. The atmosphere was calm and quiet, the kind of stillness that makes even the smallest sound noticeable. Two of the women were young, one was middle-aged, and the fourth was a lively senior whose sharp eyes hinted she always had a witty remark ready.
Out of nowhere, a faint beeping sound echoed through the room. One of the younger women calmly lifted her arm and tapped her forearm, instantly silencing the noise. The others stared at her with curiosity written across their faces.
“Oh, that?” she said casually. “It’s my pager. I had a microchip implanted under my skin.”
The explanation only deepened their fascination. Before anyone could comment, a soft musical ringtone chimed. The second young woman raised her hand to her ear as if answering an invisible phone and began speaking quietly. After finishing her brief conversation, she noticed the puzzled looks aimed her way and smiled proudly.
“That was my phone,” she explained. “It’s integrated into a microchip in my hand.”
The middle-aged woman shifted slightly, glancing down at herself as though hoping she might discover some hidden high-tech upgrade of her own. She chuckled awkwardly, unsure how to compete with such futuristic conveniences. But before she could say anything, the feisty senior stood up and walked out of the sauna without a word.
The remaining three exchanged glances, wondering what she was up to. A moment later, she returned with a confident expression, strolling back in as if nothing unusual had happened. The only odd detail was a strip of toilet paper trailing conspicuously behind her.
The others stared, speechless, unsure whether to point it out or pretend they hadn’t noticed. The older woman caught their expressions instantly. With perfect timing and a mischievous grin, she said, “Well, would you look at that… I’m receiving a fax!”
The room burst into laughter, the tension dissolving into pure amusement. Sometimes the sharpest wit belongs to the person no one expects.
Later that day, another elderly woman found herself riding an elevator inside a luxurious high-rise building in New York City. The polished walls gleamed, the lighting was soft and golden, and the whole place smelled faintly of expensive air freshener. She stood quietly, minding her own business, when a young, stylish woman stepped inside. The newcomer carried herself with obvious confidence and wore a strong, elegant perfume.
She glanced at the older woman and announced proudly, “Ralph Lauren’s ‘Romance.’ One hundred fifty dollars an ounce.”
The older woman nodded politely, saying nothing. At the next floor, another glamorous young woman entered. She, too, seemed eager to impress. With a slight toss of her hair, she declared, “Chanel No. 5. Two hundred dollars an ounce.”
The elevator continued upward in silence for a few seconds. Then it reached the elderly woman’s floor. As the doors opened, she stepped forward, paused, and turned back toward the two younger women. She looked them straight in the eyes, bent slightly, and delivered her own “announcement.”
“Broccoli,” she said calmly. “Forty-nine cents a pound.”
And with that, she walked out, leaving the elevator — and its occupants — in stunned silence before laughter inevitably followed.