A traveling salesman who’s getting close to retirement is on a plane sitting next to an older gentleman. The two strike up a conservation during which the older gentleman reveals that he’s a retiree.
“I’m getting ready to retire,” says the salesman, “and I’m worried I won’t have anything to keep me busy.”
“You need a good hobby,” the retiree says. “I keep bees.”
“Bees? Why do you keep bees?”
“Well, it’s educational, I make a little money, and I can always eat the honey.”
A few weeks later the salesman is on another flight and finds himself talking to another retiree. “Do you have a hobby?” the salesman asks.
“Yeah, I keep bees.”
“You’re the second retiree who’s told me that. Why do you keep bees?
“Well. It’s educational, I make a little money, and I can always eat the honey.”
A couple of weeks later the salesman is on another airplane and strikes up a conversation with an elderly gentleman. “Are you retired?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ve been retired for years.”
“Do you have a hobby, you know, something to keep yourself busy?”
“As a matter of fact, I keep bees.”
“You’re the third retired guy who’s told me he keeps bees as a hobby.”
“You should try it,” says the retiree. “It’s educational, I earn a little money, and I can always eat the honey.”
“Gosh, that’s amazing,” the salesman says. “Tell me, where do you keep the bees?”
“I have them with me in a shoebox right here on the plane under my seat.”
“Under your seat?”
“Yeah.” And the retiree slips the box out so the salesman can see it.
“How many bees are in there?”
“About 50,000.”
“50,000! — in that little shoebox? Don’t the bees fly into each other and tear up their little wings?” the salesman asks.
“Sure they do,” the retiree replies. “But the hell with ’em — it’s just a hobby.”
How you interpret the bee joke (that’s what I’ve always called it) depends on whether you’re whimsically or academically inclined. If you asked me why I told the joke, I’d say: “To make you laugh.”
But it’s hardly that simple. Jokes are almost always made at the expense of individuals or groups that don’t stress the culture. If we feel threatened, we tend to keep our big mouths shut. When was the last time you heard a joke about a retired Al-Qaeda bee keeper?
So maybe the bee joke is funny — assuming it made you chuckle — because it’s easy to laugh at. The perception is that retirees are the people least likely to cause trouble. And when they do, we make them the objects of ridicule.
A few years ago, I wrote a magazine article about the great for-sale-sign-controversy in Pinehurst. The editor of the magazine suggested I lead with something like this: Nattily attired in colorful golf pants, polo shirts, Bermuda shorts, and stylish cardigans, the angry retirees, placards flapping defiantly in the autumn breeze, stormed the Pinehurst Village offices demanding redress of their grievances. “No more Re/Max!” they chanted….
Now that’s funny — a bunch of rich, smartly attired retirees protesting the size and color of for-sale signs. Surely these silly people didn’t have enough to do.
But if the bee joke is patronizing, the punch line is, as with all shaggy dog stories, irritatingly ingenuous and way too annoying.
The bee joke’s self-satisfied retirees are flat-out aggravating. They’re the only ones who have time to keep bees in a microcosmic shoe box because it’s educational, profitable, and delicious. And we know what they’re really saying: If the rest of the population has to bang their little heads together in the workaday world, well, the hell with ’em.
Stephen Smith can be reached at travisses@hotmail.com.
