At the Department Store
A man with a low voice had just completed his purchases in the department store, says the “Brooklyn Eagle.”
“What is the name?” asked the clerk.
“Jepson,” replied the man.
“Chipson?”
“No, Jepson.”
“Oh, yes, Jefferson.”
“No, Jepson; J-e-p-s-o-n.”
“Jepson?”
“That’s it. You have it. Sixteen eighty-two——”
“Your first name; initial, please.”
“Oh, K.”
“O.K. Jepson.”
“Excuse me, it isn’t O. K. You did not understand me. I said ‘Oh’.”
“O. Jepson.”
“No; rub out the O. and let the K. stand.”
The clerk looked annoyed. “Will you please give me your initials again?”
“I said K.”
“I beg your pardon, you said O. K. Perhaps you had better write it yourself.”
“I said ‘Oh’——”
“Just now you said K.”
“Allow me to finish what I started. I said ‘Oh,’ because I did not understand what you were asking me. I did not mean that it was my initial. My name is Kirby Jepson.”
“Oh!”
“No, not O., but K. Give me the pencil, and I’ll write it down for you myself. There, I guess it’s O. K. now.”