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My Financial Career
When a man receives a promotion and a raise, he finds himself forced to face an uncomfortable situation that he has avoided all his visiting a bank and opening a bank account.
“My Financial Career” is representative of author Stephen Leacock’s writing style in which he pokes fun at social absurdities and irrational behaviour. This short story was adapted into a short animated film in 1962, directed by Gerald Potterton. The film won the award for Best Animated Short at the San Francisco International Film Festival that year and was nominated for Best Animated Short at the 36th Academy Awards in 1964.
HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.
“My Financial Career” is representative of author Stephen Leacock’s writing style in which he pokes fun at social absurdities and irrational behaviour. This short story was adapted into a short animated film in 1962, directed by Gerald Potterton. The film won the award for Best Animated Short at the San Francisco International Film Festival that year and was nominated for Best Animated Short at the 36th Academy Awards in 1964.
HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.
- GenresShort StoriesFiction
12 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 3, 2013
1 person is currently reading
62 people want to read
About the author
Stephen Leacock
511 books105 followersStephen P. H. Butler Leacock, FRSC, was a Canadian teacher, political scientist, writer, and humorist. Between the years 1915 and 1925, he was the best-known English-speaking humorist in the world. He is known for his light humour along with criticisms of people's follies. The Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour was named in his honour.
Wikipedia article.
Wikipedia article.
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Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews
April 14, 2018
A very funny and enjoyable short-story.
Really liked the author's writing style and sense of humor.
Really liked the author's writing style and sense of humor.
January 24, 2018
Definitely got a chuckle out of me.
September 3, 2020
Ha..ha..ha
July 13, 2020
Hilarious!
July 1, 2018
The short story “My Financial Career” by Stephen Leacock is written in a humorous style, in the style of O'Henry - I would say.
The story was written from the first site the narrator told about his unsuccessful experiment of visiting a bank office. The narrator thought that after his salary had been increased to fifty-six dollars a month he needed something to do with it.
The first person which the narrator saw in the bank was a clerk whose table was marked as “Accountant”'. The narrator asked him, “Can I see the manager” and added solemnly “alone”. The narrator made a remark about this question; “I don't know why I said 'alone.''
When the manager came the narrator asked him if he is really the manager (though there were no reasons to doubt ) and added, “Can I see you alone?” The narrator didn't want to say alone again; however, it happened unintentionally.
The manager led the narrator to a private room and turned the key in the lock. The author wrote,
"We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.”
“You are one of Pinkerton's me I suppose,” he said.
The narrator answered that he is not from the police. He came to the bank because he intended to keep all of his money in this bank. The manager concluded that the narrator was probably a son of a billionaire and asked about the sum of money.
When it became clear that it was a conversation about fifty-six dollars, the manager called another clerk and said unkindly loud that “this gentleman is opening an account. He will deposit fifty-six dollars.”
When it was deposited, the narrator asked in a hollow, and vibrating voice that he wanted to draw a cheque. His idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. But when he gave the check to the clerk the narrator realized that he had written fifty-six instead of six. The next dialog between the very surprised clerk and narrator occurred
“You withdraw your money from the bank?”
“Every cent of it.”
“Are you not going to deposit anymore?” said the clerk; astonished.
“Never.”
The author wrote in the last paragraph,
“As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more.”
The author described how a person could feel and behave in an awkward situation. It would so happen that after one unintentional phrase is spoken, the next phrase makes the situation even more embarrassing. The way it was written by the author was very impressive and funny.
Here is the link to the text of the story:
https://web.iiit.ac.in/~nirnimesh/Lit...
The story was written from the first site the narrator told about his unsuccessful experiment of visiting a bank office. The narrator thought that after his salary had been increased to fifty-six dollars a month he needed something to do with it.
The first person which the narrator saw in the bank was a clerk whose table was marked as “Accountant”'. The narrator asked him, “Can I see the manager” and added solemnly “alone”. The narrator made a remark about this question; “I don't know why I said 'alone.''
When the manager came the narrator asked him if he is really the manager (though there were no reasons to doubt ) and added, “Can I see you alone?” The narrator didn't want to say alone again; however, it happened unintentionally.
The manager led the narrator to a private room and turned the key in the lock. The author wrote,
"We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.”
“You are one of Pinkerton's me I suppose,” he said.
The narrator answered that he is not from the police. He came to the bank because he intended to keep all of his money in this bank. The manager concluded that the narrator was probably a son of a billionaire and asked about the sum of money.
When it became clear that it was a conversation about fifty-six dollars, the manager called another clerk and said unkindly loud that “this gentleman is opening an account. He will deposit fifty-six dollars.”
When it was deposited, the narrator asked in a hollow, and vibrating voice that he wanted to draw a cheque. His idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. But when he gave the check to the clerk the narrator realized that he had written fifty-six instead of six. The next dialog between the very surprised clerk and narrator occurred
“You withdraw your money from the bank?”
“Every cent of it.”
“Are you not going to deposit anymore?” said the clerk; astonished.
“Never.”
The author wrote in the last paragraph,
“As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more.”
The author described how a person could feel and behave in an awkward situation. It would so happen that after one unintentional phrase is spoken, the next phrase makes the situation even more embarrassing. The way it was written by the author was very impressive and funny.
Here is the link to the text of the story:
https://web.iiit.ac.in/~nirnimesh/Lit...
February 12, 2015
Awesome!
A nice and a humorous story.
A good one for reading. A great one.
Download the book soon.
It's very enjoyable.
A nice and a humorous story.
A good one for reading. A great one.
Download the book soon.
It's very enjoyable.
September 5, 2016
You want to have a quick laugh? Read this story... so much fun! :) x
Read
March 2, 20213.3.2021
When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.
The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot.
I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the only place for it.
So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must needs consult the manager.
I went up to a wicket marked "Accountant." The accountant was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.
"Can I see the manager?" I said, and added solemnly, "alone." I don't know why I said "alone."
"Certainly," said the accountant, and fetched him.
The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket.
"Are you the manager?" I said. God knows I didn't doubt it.
"Yes," he said.
"Can I see you," I asked, "alone?" I didn't want to say "alone" again, but without it the thing seemed self-evident.
The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I had an awful secret to reveal.
"Come in here," he said, and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in the lock.
"We are safe from interruption here," he said; "sit down."
We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.
"You are one of Pinkerton's men, I presume," he said.
He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse.
"No, not from Pinkerton's," I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival agency. "To tell the truth," I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it, "I am not a detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this bank."
The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould.
"A large account, I suppose," he said.
"Fairly large," I whispered. "I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly."
The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant.
"Mr. Montgomery," he said unkindly loud, "this gentleman is opening an account, he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning."
I rose.
A big iron door stood open at the side of the room.
"Good morning," I said, and stepped into the safe.
"Come out," said the manager coldly, and showed me the other way.
I went up to the accountant's wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick.
My face was ghastly pale.
"Here," I said, "deposit it." The tone of the words seemed to mean, "Let us do this painful thing while the fit is on us."
He took the money and gave it to another clerk.
He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam before my eyes.
"Is it deposited?" I asked in a hollow, vibrating voice.
"It is," said the accountant.
"Then I want to draw a cheque."
My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. Someone gave me a chequebook through a wicket and someone else began telling me how to write it out. The people in the bank had the impression that I was an invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the cheque and thrust it in at the clerk. He looked at it.
"What! are you drawing it all out again?" he asked in surprise. Then I realized that I had written fifty-six instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had a feeling that it was impossible to explain the thing. All the clerks had stopped writing to look at me.
Reckless with misery, I made a plunge.
"Yes, the whole thing."
"You withdraw your money from the bank?"
"Every cent of it."
"Are you not going to deposit any more?" said the clerk, astonished.
"Never."
An idiot hope struck me that they might think something had insulted me while I was writing the cheque and that I had changed my mind. I made a wretched attempt to look like a man with a fearfully quick temper.
The clerk prepared to pay the money.
"How will you have it?" he said.
"What?"
"How will you have it?"
"Oh"—I caught his meaning and answered without even trying to think—"in fifties."
He gave me a fifty-dollar bill.
"And the six?" he asked dryly.
"In sixes," I said.
He gave it me and I rushed out.
As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my trousers pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a sock.
When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.
The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot.
I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the only place for it.
So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must needs consult the manager.
I went up to a wicket marked "Accountant." The accountant was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.
"Can I see the manager?" I said, and added solemnly, "alone." I don't know why I said "alone."
"Certainly," said the accountant, and fetched him.
The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket.
"Are you the manager?" I said. God knows I didn't doubt it.
"Yes," he said.
"Can I see you," I asked, "alone?" I didn't want to say "alone" again, but without it the thing seemed self-evident.
The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I had an awful secret to reveal.
"Come in here," he said, and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in the lock.
"We are safe from interruption here," he said; "sit down."
We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.
"You are one of Pinkerton's men, I presume," he said.
He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse.
"No, not from Pinkerton's," I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival agency. "To tell the truth," I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it, "I am not a detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this bank."
The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould.
"A large account, I suppose," he said.
"Fairly large," I whispered. "I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly."
The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant.
"Mr. Montgomery," he said unkindly loud, "this gentleman is opening an account, he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning."
I rose.
A big iron door stood open at the side of the room.
"Good morning," I said, and stepped into the safe.
"Come out," said the manager coldly, and showed me the other way.
I went up to the accountant's wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick.
My face was ghastly pale.
"Here," I said, "deposit it." The tone of the words seemed to mean, "Let us do this painful thing while the fit is on us."
He took the money and gave it to another clerk.
He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam before my eyes.
"Is it deposited?" I asked in a hollow, vibrating voice.
"It is," said the accountant.
"Then I want to draw a cheque."
My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. Someone gave me a chequebook through a wicket and someone else began telling me how to write it out. The people in the bank had the impression that I was an invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the cheque and thrust it in at the clerk. He looked at it.
"What! are you drawing it all out again?" he asked in surprise. Then I realized that I had written fifty-six instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had a feeling that it was impossible to explain the thing. All the clerks had stopped writing to look at me.
Reckless with misery, I made a plunge.
"Yes, the whole thing."
"You withdraw your money from the bank?"
"Every cent of it."
"Are you not going to deposit any more?" said the clerk, astonished.
"Never."
An idiot hope struck me that they might think something had insulted me while I was writing the cheque and that I had changed my mind. I made a wretched attempt to look like a man with a fearfully quick temper.
The clerk prepared to pay the money.
"How will you have it?" he said.
"What?"
"How will you have it?"
"Oh"—I caught his meaning and answered without even trying to think—"in fifties."
He gave me a fifty-dollar bill.
"And the six?" he asked dryly.
"In sixes," I said.
He gave it me and I rushed out.
As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my trousers pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a sock.
November 2, 2023
Cashing in Laughter: “My Financial Career” and Navigating the Labyrinth of Life
Throughout my life, I have always been attracted to comedy in all forms. Whether I’d be watching a funny movie or listening to funny sounds, I always loved the joy comedic media gave me. In turn, this also led me to be pushed away from reading, as many stories dealt with more serious topics. While looking for a short story to read, I came across “My Financial Career” by Stephen Leacock. Before reading this story, I had thought that this would be a long-winded path of despair, but this story surprised me as it was full of comedic elements that made me laugh while reading.
As the narrator walks into the bank he is flooded by his anxiety. The memories haunt him, and he stands as still as a pole. He is scared because of one main reason: he “becomes an irresponsible idiot” in the bank. This leaves us with one main question: Why is the narrator in the bank in the first place? The narrator is here because he has gotten a big pay raise of fifty dollars a month and so he feels pressured to keep his money in the bank. While his anxiety controls him, he walks toward the accountant in a nervous trance. He asks to see the manager, but his mouth betrays him, and he adds “alone” to the end of the sentence, making him seem like a suspicious man. As he is led by the manager to a private room his mind betrays his body, and he presents the manager with a cool and mysterious exterior.
From the beginning of the story, Leacock focuses on two main senses: touch and sight. These senses are the main entities that connect with the narrator’s anxiety and lead him to make comedic decisions throughout the story. The use of these senses is first shown as the narrator “shambled in” the bank and “looked timidly” showing how his anxiety unconsciously controls him and how he feels whimsical and weak in front of others. Later while writing on a slip of paper, he describes the touch between himself and the paper, and how he “No longer knew what I was doing “as he saw “the bank swam before my eyes”.
As a reader, the use of sight and touch throughout the story is what kept me intrigued. It leads the reader to question the narrator's motivation. The tone of the words that are used to describe his sight and touch are ironically comical, and they surprise the reader because anxiety and comedy are not typically associated with each other. The contradicting words, actions, and topics described throughout the story create a special blend of comedy that has never failed to make any reader laugh.
While in the bank, the narrator interacts with other interesting characters such as the manager and the accountants that work there. The dialogue between the narrator and the characters is entertaining as you can see his mind and body fight each other. This is shown while speaking to the accountant as he asks “’ Can I see the manager?’…’ alone’”. The silence between both phrases adds a mysterious persona to him. While the narrator is with the manager, this mysterious persona breaks as he walks to a safe on the opposite side of the room and says, “Good morning”. The manager coldly says, “Come out,” and the narrator's body follows the command.
As his persona of being a cool and suave guy momentarily breaks, his nervous and anxiety-ridden self comes through. His mind is consciously controlling every word he says to people, but his body wants to give off a cool persona that the narrator does not possess. The irony of his words, and the conversations he has with the side characters in the story, raise a chuckle out of me every time. What he’s feeling is drastically different from what he says to others and the awkwardness makes it even more amusing to read.
Leacock's story portrays how daily anxieties can control people, but on a deeper level, it highlights the beauty and joy of simple things in life. It teaches us how embarrassing moments can become funny stories in the future. In a world where we are constantly surrounded by negativity and judgment, we should take a page out of Leacock's story and find the bright side of unusual memories. "My Financial Career" encourages readers to perceive every moment of their life in a positive light without prejudice.
Throughout my life, I have always been attracted to comedy in all forms. Whether I’d be watching a funny movie or listening to funny sounds, I always loved the joy comedic media gave me. In turn, this also led me to be pushed away from reading, as many stories dealt with more serious topics. While looking for a short story to read, I came across “My Financial Career” by Stephen Leacock. Before reading this story, I had thought that this would be a long-winded path of despair, but this story surprised me as it was full of comedic elements that made me laugh while reading.
As the narrator walks into the bank he is flooded by his anxiety. The memories haunt him, and he stands as still as a pole. He is scared because of one main reason: he “becomes an irresponsible idiot” in the bank. This leaves us with one main question: Why is the narrator in the bank in the first place? The narrator is here because he has gotten a big pay raise of fifty dollars a month and so he feels pressured to keep his money in the bank. While his anxiety controls him, he walks toward the accountant in a nervous trance. He asks to see the manager, but his mouth betrays him, and he adds “alone” to the end of the sentence, making him seem like a suspicious man. As he is led by the manager to a private room his mind betrays his body, and he presents the manager with a cool and mysterious exterior.
From the beginning of the story, Leacock focuses on two main senses: touch and sight. These senses are the main entities that connect with the narrator’s anxiety and lead him to make comedic decisions throughout the story. The use of these senses is first shown as the narrator “shambled in” the bank and “looked timidly” showing how his anxiety unconsciously controls him and how he feels whimsical and weak in front of others. Later while writing on a slip of paper, he describes the touch between himself and the paper, and how he “No longer knew what I was doing “as he saw “the bank swam before my eyes”.
As a reader, the use of sight and touch throughout the story is what kept me intrigued. It leads the reader to question the narrator's motivation. The tone of the words that are used to describe his sight and touch are ironically comical, and they surprise the reader because anxiety and comedy are not typically associated with each other. The contradicting words, actions, and topics described throughout the story create a special blend of comedy that has never failed to make any reader laugh.
While in the bank, the narrator interacts with other interesting characters such as the manager and the accountants that work there. The dialogue between the narrator and the characters is entertaining as you can see his mind and body fight each other. This is shown while speaking to the accountant as he asks “’ Can I see the manager?’…’ alone’”. The silence between both phrases adds a mysterious persona to him. While the narrator is with the manager, this mysterious persona breaks as he walks to a safe on the opposite side of the room and says, “Good morning”. The manager coldly says, “Come out,” and the narrator's body follows the command.
As his persona of being a cool and suave guy momentarily breaks, his nervous and anxiety-ridden self comes through. His mind is consciously controlling every word he says to people, but his body wants to give off a cool persona that the narrator does not possess. The irony of his words, and the conversations he has with the side characters in the story, raise a chuckle out of me every time. What he’s feeling is drastically different from what he says to others and the awkwardness makes it even more amusing to read.
Leacock's story portrays how daily anxieties can control people, but on a deeper level, it highlights the beauty and joy of simple things in life. It teaches us how embarrassing moments can become funny stories in the future. In a world where we are constantly surrounded by negativity and judgment, we should take a page out of Leacock's story and find the bright side of unusual memories. "My Financial Career" encourages readers to perceive every moment of their life in a positive light without prejudice.
December 19, 2025
In this story, Leacock transforms everyday anxiety into comic revelation, crafting a story that exposes the absurd theatre of modern finance.
What appears to be a simple encounter becomes an examination of intimidation, self-consciousness, and institutional power. Leacock understands that comedy thrives where language collapses under pressure.
The narrator’s experience is rendered with escalating precision. Every gesture, pause, and misunderstanding becomes magnified, revealing how financial spaces intimidate through silence and ceremony.
Leacock’s humour is psychological rather than situational, emerging from the narrator’s internal collapse rather than external chaos.
Stylistically, the prose mimics the rhythms of nervous thought. Sentences overthink themselves, logic loops back on itself, and confidence evaporates mid-phrase. This technique creates a self-reflexive comedy that feels strikingly modern.
Authority is not enforced through force but through performance, and the narrator’s awareness of that performance becomes paralysing.
From a postmodern perspective, the story critiques institutions that derive power from opacity. Knowledge becomes a gatekeeping mechanism, and ignorance—real or perceived—becomes shameful.
Leacock exposes how systems rely on intimidation rather than clarity, making compliance feel like competence.
The humour is gentle, never cruel. Leacock laughs at fear, not failure, offering recognition rather than ridicule.
The reader is invited to identify, not judge. The story’s brevity enhances its impact, allowing the anxiety to crescendo without resolution.
My Financial Career remains enduringly relevant because its subject has not changed. The language of finance still confuses, still intimidates, and still performs authority. Leacock’s comedy reminds us that laughter is often the first step toward reclaiming agency.
Most recommended.
What appears to be a simple encounter becomes an examination of intimidation, self-consciousness, and institutional power. Leacock understands that comedy thrives where language collapses under pressure.
The narrator’s experience is rendered with escalating precision. Every gesture, pause, and misunderstanding becomes magnified, revealing how financial spaces intimidate through silence and ceremony.
Leacock’s humour is psychological rather than situational, emerging from the narrator’s internal collapse rather than external chaos.
Stylistically, the prose mimics the rhythms of nervous thought. Sentences overthink themselves, logic loops back on itself, and confidence evaporates mid-phrase. This technique creates a self-reflexive comedy that feels strikingly modern.
Authority is not enforced through force but through performance, and the narrator’s awareness of that performance becomes paralysing.
From a postmodern perspective, the story critiques institutions that derive power from opacity. Knowledge becomes a gatekeeping mechanism, and ignorance—real or perceived—becomes shameful.
Leacock exposes how systems rely on intimidation rather than clarity, making compliance feel like competence.
The humour is gentle, never cruel. Leacock laughs at fear, not failure, offering recognition rather than ridicule.
The reader is invited to identify, not judge. The story’s brevity enhances its impact, allowing the anxiety to crescendo without resolution.
My Financial Career remains enduringly relevant because its subject has not changed. The language of finance still confuses, still intimidates, and still performs authority. Leacock’s comedy reminds us that laughter is often the first step toward reclaiming agency.
Most recommended.
December 29, 2024
“When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me”.
“The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot”.
It goes without saying that our protagonist stays clear of banks, however he’s received a raise and has no option but to approach a bank in order to keep his money safe.
Very short but quite amusing tale as our protagonist is overwhelmed by the process of opening a bank account.
“The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot”.
It goes without saying that our protagonist stays clear of banks, however he’s received a raise and has no option but to approach a bank in order to keep his money safe.
Very short but quite amusing tale as our protagonist is overwhelmed by the process of opening a bank account.
August 5, 2023
“When I go into a bank,I get ratled.The clerks rattle me,the wickets rattle me,the sight of the money rattles me,everything rattles me”
“ the very sight of the accountant rattles me”
This man gets rattled too much.
I had a good time reading this as I just kept on laughing because of the constant rattles and the simplicity of the story..
“ the very sight of the accountant rattles me”
This man gets rattled too much.
I had a good time reading this as I just kept on laughing because of the constant rattles and the simplicity of the story..
August 13, 2023
How I miss comedies like this! A brilliant piece, a tribute to all of us, who still hate talking to a group of people. Especially when all that is about banking! Its a tribute to the embarrassing fun we shy people experience everyday! A must read!
June 30, 2020
My first Stephen Leacock.
Fun little short story, but nothing more.
Fun little short story, but nothing more.
May 28, 2021
Meh, this one was okay.
December 23, 2022
A humorous, quick read, that I'm sure anybody with anxiety can relate to.
February 4, 2024
Funny.. but very short
May 30, 2024
Read it for course work, got a good chuckle out of me.
October 12, 2024
When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.
Brilliant witty and very funny.
Brilliant witty and very funny.
March 1, 2025
This was so funny HAHAHA
May 5, 2025
funny story, but nothing special :)
3.5 stars
3.5 stars
December 30, 2020
lovely short story
an "intelligent" comedy
not a LOL story though, but would surely make you chuckle!
an "intelligent" comedy
not a LOL story though, but would surely make you chuckle!
January 13, 2019
1.1⭐️
November 2, 2022
Leacock's humor is alive and well here. Anyone with social anxiety will empathize!
Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews