A man is sitting on his porch when he notices two blondes working down the road. They both have shovels. One blonde digs a deep hole, steps aside, and the other immediately fills it back in. Then they move a few feet forward and repeat the process. Dig. Fill. Dig. Fill.
The man watches them for a while, confused but impressed by their energy. Minutes turn into an hour. They don’t stop. Sweat runs down their faces, dirt piles up, then disappears again. Finally, curiosity gets the better of him. He walks over and says, “You ladies look like you’re working really hard. But I can’t figure out what you’re trying to accomplish.”
One of the blondes pauses, wipes her brow, and leans on her shovel. “Well,” she says seriously, “normally there are three of us.”
The man raises an eyebrow. “Three?”
“Yes,” she continues. “I dig the hole. She fills it back in. And the third blonde plants the tree.”
The man looks around at the empty road. “So where’s the third one today?”
The blonde sighs deeply, shaking her head. “She called in sick.”
The man opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again. The two blondes nod politely, pick up their shovels, and walk a few steps down the road. Without missing a beat, one digs another hole and the other fills it in like nothing ever happened.
The man slowly walks back to his porch, sits down, and mutters to himself, “Well… at least they’re committed.”
