A woman named Melissa lived in the center of the busy metropolis, amidst the soaring skyscrapers and the din of daily life. She had a meeting with her accountant, Mr. Harold Finch, on this sunny spring morning. She was a vibrant, no-nonsense woman.

She couldn’t help but notice the orderly rows of folders and the magnificent collection of diplomas on the wall as soon as she walked inside Mr. Finch’s tidy office. Mr. Finch has a well-deserved reputation among his clients because of his fastidious approach.

Melissa was greeted with a smile by Mr. Finch, who motioned for her to take a seat. He continued in a calm, professional tone, “I’ll need to ask you a few questions before we start to make sure I have all the information I need for your financial records.

Melissa agreed with a nod of readiness. She didn’t hesitate to give her name, address, or social security number. The tone of the conversation changed unexpectedly when the accountant asked the woman about her line of work.

I’m a whore, Melissa retorted with a sly gleam in her eye.

Mr. Finch, a rigidly formal man, retreated in shock. He stumbled, obviously flustered, “No, no, no,” “That’s not going to work. That is really too vulgar. Try to phrase that differently.

Melissa carefully evaluated her response because she is not one to back down from a challenge. She said, “Alright,” with a jovial grin on her face. “I work as a prostitute.”

Mr. Finch became more uncomfortable as his eyes expanded. His cheeks began to flush, and he said, “No, no, it is still too coarse. Please give it another go.

With a hint of mischief in her gaze, Melissa reclined on her chair. I’m a poultry farmer, she said after pausing for a few minute to consider he

Mr. Finch became more perplexed. He asked incredulously, “A chicken farmer?” What does being a…lady of the night…have to do with raising chickens?

Melissa couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She said with a loud laugh, “Well, Mr. Finch, I raised over 5,000 cocks last year.”

Mr. Finch’s countenance steadily changed as realization set him, and he then burst out laughing uncontrollably. It was a rare instance of humor in his ordinarily somber office.

Mr. Finch responded, wiping a tear from his eye, “Well, I must admit, that’s the most unique response I’ve ever received to that question.” as their laughter died down.

Melissa smirks. Life is too short to always be so serious, Mr. Finch.

Since that moment, Melissa and Mr. Finch’s yearly tax appointment has not only been a time for financial paperwork but also a treasured occasion for a good-natured chuckle and a reminder that comedy can often bring people together even in the most unexpected circumstances.