'What a wonderful life,' thought Casey. 'Voted best salesman in Dublin and
given a huge bonus and treated to a week's holiday at the George V Hotel in Paris.
What a life!'
And so, with featherlight tread, he tripped down to breakfast the first morning
and was seated across from a pleasant-faced Frenchman who stood up at Casey's
approach and said, 'Bon appetit.'
'Finbar Casey,' replied the Irishman.
Next morning, the same thing.
'Bon appetit,' from the Frenchman.
'Finbar Casey,' from the salesman.
However, as Casey was leaving the restaurant, a waiter decided to explain
matters to him.
'You see, monsieur,' said the waiter, 'he is French and he is wishing you
Bon appetit, not telling you his name.'
'Understood,' said Casey. Tomorrow I'll put it right!'
So tomorrow dawned as tomorrows will, and Casey entered the restaurant, nodded
to the Frenchman and said, 'Bon appetit!'
Whereupon the Frenchman rose and replied: 'Finbar Casey!'