I cover the storefront

I swear this is mostly true. Except for the parts, as you'll see, that aren't.

According to the most recent census, there are more than 27 million small businesses operating in America - some with up to 500 employees, some with none.

The small business in question for this column was a family-owned retailer. At the company's zenith, it owned three stores, employing several hundred people.

I don't know if this company ever applied for a Small Business Administration loan. While it would be in keeping with the family's modus operandi to accept money, it just doesn't seem likely they would bother with the paperwork.

Here's what I mean: One afternoon a truck mistakenly delivered several crates of hairdryers to the back dock that were meant for a big-name chain store about a mile down the road. When the store owners were notified of the error, they had the items unpacked and rushed out onto the sales floor, quick as a bunny.

A surprise half-price sale on “a special delivery” of hairdryers was announced to the shoppers over the public address system.

When the anxious delivery driver returned less than an hour later, he was met with, “Hair dryers? What hair dryers?”

During my high school years, I spent most evenings and almost all weekends in one or the other of the family's stores. These probably were the most entertaining places I've ever worked.

They were discount stores, and shoplifting was rampant - even among the customers.

Sometimes the would-be thieves would slip tools, clothes and small appliances into their jackets or down their pants. They'd frequently try this maneuver while a sales clerk was standing not more than a few yards away, in plain sight, watching.

My favorites were the thieves who would try on a pair of shoes or pants, walk around a bit - “Oh, yes, these feel very nice” - then bolt madly for the exit.

Now, I'm not saying the owners deserved the “customers” they got. But I do recall every year leading up to Christmas, they promoted a 50 percent-off sale on all toys.

It was a huge annual event, and the stores would be mobbed with customers fighting - and fistfights indeed did break out - over the more must-have merchandise.

The thing is, after the store closed the day before the sale, managers were required to stay to mark up the toys' price tags by 50 percent.

See the clever thing they did there?

When the family decided to open a second store, I was transferred with several other employees to help get it ready.

We assembled counters and racks, labeled signs, unloaded streams of trucks - most with stuff actually intended for this store - unpacked boxes, burned boxes, ticketed merchandise ….

And it was on opening day that two discoveries were made - both of which, in hindsight, should have been obvious from the beginning. (But then, isn't that what makes great comedy?)

The first involved gravity.

The store had been constructed at the bottom of a slight hill, with the pipes running up to the main road. On that grand opening day, with thousands of customers pouring in, the restrooms received far more use than they had when it had been just us setting up.

You can guess what happened next. (“Whadda ya mean the restroom's broke already? Ya just opened!”)

The second discovery, now that I think about it, also had to do with gravity.

It was midsummer, and it was hot. The store being packed with potential customers made it even hotter inside.

Then the air-conditioning broke.

Son No. 2 - let's call him Hoss, as by this time son No. 1, Adam, long ago had decamped to the West Coast to start his own business - entered the store.

“Why's it so **** hot in here?” he demanded.

After being informed of the situation - the A/C was down and couldn't be fixed until tomorrow, at best - Hoss came up with what he believed was a brilliant solution. Connect together as many garden hoses as needed, somehow affix one end to the fire hydrant out by the street, run the hoses up to the roof, then turn on the water - that'll cool off the store.

What happened next was a loud crash of water cascading down onto the men's clothing department, ruining vast quantities of pants, shirts and cheap suits.

The hydrant was shut off, and Hoss left the store in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

A short time later the father - let's call him Ben - entered the store.

“Why's it so **** hot in here?” he demanded.

After being informed of the situation, Ben came up with what he believed was a brilliant solution.

I'm not making this up.

As most of his employees were deeply afraid of Ben, they did as their master bid them. And water cascaded down onto the newly restocked men's department, ruining vast quantities of pants, suits and even cheaper suits.

It's still hard to tell this story with a dry eye.