When a woman requested a whole roaster at the market where I work, the butcher didn’t let on that the bird he presented her was the last one. “Do you have one that’s a little larger?” she asked.
“Of course,” said the butcher. He took the roaster behind the counter, away from view, and made a lot of noise rolling it around the ice as if he were searching for just the right chicken. He then showed the same bird to her.
“Better,” she said. “Do you have one with a little more meat on it?”
He took the chicken, rolled it in the ice and offered it up a third time.
“Great,” the woman said. “I’ll take all three.”