One day, a customer was talking with me by a large fish pond.
"I keep many big fish in my home pond," he said.
"How big are they?" I asked.
"Bigger than yours." He gestured a gap of about 16 to 18 inches between his forefingers.
"Those aren't just big fish; they're valuable too. Fish of that size sell for about 400 quid each in our pond," I remarked.
"Yes, I know," he replied, a proud smile appearing on his face.
"How long have you kept them?"
"About ten years."
"You're an excellent fish keeper," I praised.
"Of course I am! Did you know all my fish were originally bought from you?" He puffed out his chest slightly.
"They were our fish," I said.
"Yes, that's true!" He gave me a thumbs-up.
We both laughed.
"I actually need another fish pond now," he said.
"You could build a second pond next to the original one, connect them, and let the water flow naturally between the two. The fish could swim freely. It would be wonderful!" I explained, using simple English and gestures.
"Yes, I will. But the problem is I'm moving to a new house soon," he replied.
"Don't worry. You can speak to our manager and leave your fish here for a 'holiday.' We'll take expert care of them. Once you're settled, you can come and collect them for your new pond," I said, momentarily acting as the manager.
"That's a good idea! But..." He paused and looked around.
"Is there another problem?" I asked eagerly, wanting to help.
"Where is my wife? Talking about fish, I forgot my 'other half.' Now I have to forget the fish and look for my wife." He gave me a mischievous smile, turned, and darted indoors.
"Don't worry! If you lose your wife, go to the information desk!" I shouted after him as he ran away.