A horrible accident happened last week while I was replacing the windows at the top of a skyscraper

I went up the skyscraper with 2 of my colleagues and it was going great at first. After about an hour I heard an awful scream and I saw one guy falling down and hitting the pavement. It was Robert Steinberg. He was dead on impact, nothing we could’ve done.

I looked at the other guy and asked him “What should we do?”

He told me that one of us had to go and tell his wife, but he didn’t want to do it.

So, me and my big mouth said that I’ll take care of this.

A couple of hours later I returned with a six-pack of beer under my arm.

“Weren’t you supposed to tell his wife that her husband just died?” My colleague said with a confused look on his face.

“Yes, and I did!” I replied.

“So where the hell did you get the six-pack of beer from?” He asked.

“Well, it’s really simple” I replied.

“I went over to his house and knocked on his door. The window on the first floor opened and his wife said hello. I asked her if this is the house of widow Steinberg. She laughed and told me I got the last name right but that she wasn’t a widow!” To which I replied: “Wanna bet for a six-pack?”