A long time ago there lived a carpenter. He once bought a hundred coins worth of good wood: he decided to make plows for sale.
A carpenter opened a workshop near the road itself. Whoever passes by will definitely take a look.
One passer-by looked in and said:
“You need a plow higher and heavier, it’s better for plowing.”
The carpenter listened and began making the plows taller and heavier.
Another passer-by passed by and winced:
– The plows should be made lower and smaller, then it will be just right.
“Perhaps that’s true,” the carpenter decided. Now he made the plows lower and smaller.
A third passerby looked into the workshop:
-Have you heard the news? New lands have begun to be plowed in the mountains, and things are going well. And the mountains, you know, are all overgrown with jungle, so they only plow with elephants. Now, if you made plows three times higher and three times larger than these, so that you could harness elephants, there would be no end to buyers.
The carpenter heard this and let’s make plows five times larger than usual. He put out the plow and began to wait for buyers. But days and months passed, no one even asked the price of these plows. The poor fellow thought thoughtfully: “It turns out that I tried in vain and ruined so much good wood.” I realized that listening to every passerby is stupid. But it was already too late.
Since then, people say about everyone who lives by someone else’s mind: “Making a plow in the middle of the road.”
And here is another tale about a carpenter who “made a plow in the middle of the road.”
Once upon a time there lived a hard worker carpenter. One day he took a large wooden block with him, sat down near the road and got to work. Suddenly a passerby stopped near him:
-What are you doing, uncle?
“Plow,” answered the carpenter, without turning around.
Before the carpenter had time to trim a block, a second passer-by approached:
-What are you doing here?
“Yes, I’m whittling out a pestle,” muttered the carpenter, without raising his head.
The carpenter has already planed a whole third of the plow when he hears again:
- What are you doing here, uncle?
“A rice stick,” the carpenter muttered through his teeth, without looking up from his work.
When the plow was already half ready, a passer-by asked again:
-What are you doing?
– A spoon for lime – prepare betel nut.
The plow was three-quarters planed, and then it was heard again:
- What are you doing, uncle?
Angry, the carpenter answered, without letting go of the ax:
– I’m whittling a toothpick.
Sokha was almost ready when a woman’s voice was heard:
-What are you doing?
“I plan the shavings,” said the master, smiling. There were five minutes of work left, and no one had time to ask him another question.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru