Stanley for his tools these days. Perhaps you and some of your ethereal friends in the netherworld could arrange to haunt the sucker who decided to ma...e a quick buck off your name.Although I no longer use your tools I still visit your store regularly. I hope I won't shock you, Mr. Sears, when I tell you why. Your see, sir, after a day making my living with my tools I return home and relax in a way that might perplex a man of the 19th century such as yourself. I remove my rough working clothes. No mutual funds. I’ll investigate a stock and determine its’ viability before I suggest you invest. And I don’t make decisions for you. I give you the facts and let you make your own decisions. If I think you’re about to do something foolish, I advise against it, but the ultimate decision is yours.’ ‘And don’t get me wrong. I’m not a one man show. I have a partner and several assistants who do research for me, but ultimately I make the decisions to recommend something to the client. If it. I walked down the hallway, and knocked softly on my closed bedroom door.“Tammy?” I asked. “Are you alright?”“I’m… yes, I’m alright.” She sounded anxious.“Is it okay? Does it fit?” I asked, cracking the door open.“Uh, yeah,” Tammy said. The distracted tone of her voice raised my suspicions. I pushed the door further open, and cautiously popped my head around it. Tammy was bent over my bed, wearing my wife’s ill-fitting dress. Spread out in front of her were several photographs. She was. Tom and Nancy were beginning to develop a close friendly relationship with Karen. They decided that her ability to find and analyze research was far better than anyone they had ever met. They knew that they were going to need someone to be a research assistant when they started their research business after they graduated. They also knew that they would not find very many people that would be as good as Karen. They decided to offer her a job as a research assistant that would pay just a bit.