He approached me one day and said, Hello, my name is Ernest Hatcher.
I looked at him, my eyes opened wide, and choked a little on my coffee. The Ernest Hatcher?
Yes, he said, smiling and looking amazed. You've heard of me?
I have no idea who you are.
Ernest Hatcher turned out to be a rather serious guy. He was an aspiring inventor. He hadn't invented anything yet, but he thought a lot about how great it would be to invent something.
You're just in it for the money, I said.
No, no, I genuinely love inventing things and making people's lives better and more interesting.
That's admirable, I said. So what kinds of things do you invent?
Well, I've drawn up detailed plans for a machine that converts hatred into combustible fuel. Also, a membrane which, when placed over one's face, turns every idle and empty word one says or hears into a profound truth. Then there's the self-cleaning underwear that can be worn on any part of the body.
I told him that I happened to know some people who like to invest in new ideas and new inventions. Can you come up with a presentation for that underwear by tomorrow?
Yes, I can do a demonstration right now.
Excellent. I shook his hand. With gamers, campers, bachelors, travelers, sports fans, party animals, the bedridden, astronauts, lazy slobs, and husbands, the market is overripe for this revolutionary, life-changing product.
Ernest Hatcher, your idea is going to change the world.