Here is a man who built a business empire from the ground up and now is president and CEO of the whole shootin' match. He only talks to the man at the top when doing business! When he does business with Wal-Mart, he won't talk to some toady VP--he does business directly with Sam Walton. When he deals with IBM, no flunky director of marketing for him--he has to talk personally with Ross Perot.

     So naturally, when he passes away and goes to the pearly gates, he won't talk to St. Peter. He has to talk to the Big Guy Himself. St. Peter is annoyed, but goes and gets God anyway. (St. Peter whispers in God's ear, "This is the guy I've been telling you about--I've been watching him down on earth, and he's a real skinflint. Cheapest SOB I've ever observed!" God says, "Yes, I know, remember? I know everything.")

     God says to the man, "Why do you think you belong in heaven?" Our hero talks about the massive empire he's built up and the astounding wealth and all that, and God says, "Yes, but what have you done for others? Like...oh, say, did you ever donate to charitable causes?" "Why yes," the man says, "once I put a dollar in the collection plate at church...oh yes, and once I gave a dollar to a panhandler on the street.... um, and yes, I remember now, I spent a dollar on a fund-raiser candy bar for my secretary's daughter's band uniforms." And there was a pause, and God says, "That's it?" The man replied that yes, that was all.

     God turns to St. Peter and says, "What do you think, Peter?" And St. Peter replies, "I think we ought to give him his three bucks back and tell him to go to hell!"