A city man was visiting a small farm in rural North Carolina. He wore shiny loafers, a polo shirt tucked just a little too confidently, and had a GPS voice that referred to dirt roads as “unacceptable terrain.”
While strolling around the farm, marveling at how eggs didn’t come pre-scrambled, he saw the farmer doing something absolutely baffling. The old farmer was standing beside a pigpen, holding a pig under one arm, and patiently letting the pig eat apples—one bite at a time—straight from an apple tree.
Once the pig had chomped a single apple down to the core, the farmer would set it down, pick up another pig, and repeat the process. Each pig got VIP service, like they were at a fine-dining orchard.
The city man scratched his head and adjusted his sunglasses like he was trying to recalibrate reality.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said, watching as the farmer lifted a particularly plump pig with the kind of effort you’d expect from someone deadlifting a small sofa. “Why are you feeding them apples like that? Isn’t that terribly time-consuming?”
The farmer looked up, calm as a Carolina breeze. “Yep.”
The city man blinked. “I mean… wouldn’t it save time just to shake the tree, let the apples fall, and let the pigs eat off the ground?”
The farmer stared at the city man, squinting like he’d just been told tractors run on espresso. Then he said slowly, “Well, I reckon it might save time… but what’s time to a pig?”
The city man opened his mouth, then closed it. He tilted his head, ran the math, checked for satire, and came up empty. He was 93% sure the farmer was serious.
Trying again, he asked, “But you could feed them all in minutes, not hours.”
The farmer nodded. “True. But then what would I do all day? Read the stock market?”
The city man didn’t know whether to laugh or call a time-management coach.
At that moment, another pig let out a contented snort, wiped apple juice off its chin (well, metaphorically), and trotted off like it had just finished brunch at a five-star buffet.
The farmer smiled. “These pigs are happy. I’m happy. You’re confused. So I’d say this system’s working just fine.”
And with that, he hoisted the next pig, walked it over to the tree, and began the feeding ritual all over again.
The city man left the farm with more questions than answers, a strong craving for apples, and a sudden, profound respect for anyone with that much patience—and upper body strength.
