A woman walked into the local Welfare Office to apply for financial assistance.
The caseworker behind the desk smiled politely, pulled out a stack of official forms, and asked the standard opening question: “To get started, how many children do you have?”
“Ten,” the woman replied proudly.
“Wow, a big family!” the worker remarked, adjusting his glasses. “And what are their names?”
The mother took a deep breath and began listing them off:
“LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, and LeRoy.”
The caseworker stopped writing, his pen hovering in mid-air. He blinked in utter confusion, staring at her. “Wait a second… they’re all named LeRoy? Every single one of them?”
“Yes, sir,” she nodded cheerfully. “All ten.”
“But how on earth do you handle that?” the worker asked, completely puzzled. “For instance, what if they are all playing outside in the neighborhood and you want them to come back into the house?”
“Oh, that’s incredibly easy,” the mother smiled. “I just yell ‘LeRoy!’ at the top of my lungs, and they all come running right in at the same time.”
“Okay…” the worker muttered, trying to wrap his head around it. “But what about when it’s time for dinner? How do you handle that?”
“Same thing,” she answered without missing a beat. “I just shout, ‘LeRoy, come eat your dinner!’ and they all immediately sit down at the table.”
The caseworker scratched his head, thoroughly fascinated but completely bewildered by the logistics. “Alright, I get how that works for the group. But what if you need to speak to just one of them specifically? What if you want just one individual child to do a chore for you?”
The mother chuckled, looked at the caseworker like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and replied:
“Oh, that’s even easier… I just use their last names!”
