I like tales

Once my father told me this little tale. It is not even a tale, its just something that happened to him but that I think that is somehow powerful.

His father worked in a winery these days, thats when he was 7 or 8 years old at most. He was on holidays, he didn’t have to go to school and went with his father to help him at work. When he was there roaming around, a Coca Cola sales representative entered and when he saw my young father he gave him 2 pens. Both pens had the same color but one of them was a simple pen and the other was a made in USA (note that in these days, the USA where an example to follow here, not what they are nowadays). When he saw it, immediately he knew that he liked it (sweet childhood…).

When he arrived at home, my grandfather told him to share them with his sister (my aunt obviously, note that she is a bit older than my father) and he went and showed her them both and told her to choose. She took the made in USA one, the one he liked.

The result was that my father finished with the pen that he didn’t want.
The problem is that he expected her sister to choose the other one, just to make him happy, but she didn’t realize that he wanted her to choose something. The other result is that he still remembers it.