A woman walked into her accountant’s office carrying a folder full of receipts.

“I need to file my taxes,” she said, sitting down across from him.

“Of course,” the accountant replied, opening his laptop. “Before we begin, I just need some basic information.”

He asked for her name, address, phone number, and social security number. Everything went smoothly until he reached the next question.

“And what is your occupation?” he asked.

The woman answered calmly, “I’m a whore.”

The accountant froze, then quickly adjusted his glasses.

“Right… well… we can’t exactly write that on an official tax form. It’s a little too blunt. Could we phrase it differently?”

She nodded. “Fine. I’m a prostitute.”

He winced. “Still not ideal. Let’s try something more professional, something that sounds respectable.”

The woman leaned back and thought for a moment.

After a few seconds, she smiled and said, “Put me down as a chicken farmer.”

The accountant blinked. “A chicken farmer?”

“Yes,” she said confidently.

He frowned. “I’m sorry, but what does chicken farming have to do with your actual line of work?”

She shrugged and replied,

“Well, I raised over 5,000 cocks last year.”