My father, a stockbroker in the 1930’s, had a client of low repute … a hoodlum, some would say … who owed the brokerage firm money. The man came into my father’s office with two bodyguards. They closed the door and stood. “What’s this I hear? I owe you money?” Nervously pointing to the ledger, my father said, “You see, sir, it’s all right here. You owe $500.00.” The man laughed. “Only five hundred? That’s all?” He turned to the men behind him, “Pay this man!” And they did. The man remained a good client. It was, after all, only $500.00.