TheBanyanTree: The Bookkeeper's Nightmare

[Monique]

It happened last night, while I slept. That's when I have most of my
nightmares, though I have been known to have them during the day also,
usually when some sort of government agent shows up at my door, demanding an
explanation of certain expenses and deductions, and did I really think I
could get away with that? But that's another story entirely. 

This nightmare happened in my sleep, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't real.
There were bad people in my dream. Murderous, evil, harmful people. They
traveled in a group, a pack, a pod, whatever it is that murderous evil
people travel in. I tried looking it up in a dictionary, but got nowhere.
Maybe it was a gaggle. They were well orchestrated though, that much I know.
And evil. Quite evil. And they were on a mission to reduce the population by
murderous means. Do you see a trend developing here? I certainly do.

I think that somewhere there was a group formed to fend them off, but it was
only a group of two and rather ineffective.

This murderous evil group was looking for me. Me, specifically. And they
kept calling me on my cell phone. It's how the evil of the world communicate
nowadays I guess. They don't bother showing up until after they've made an
appointment. Wise decision - my schedule doesn't always allow for walk-ins.
But I knew it was a murderous evil group calling, so I ignored the calls.
They came from the 919 area code, I remember that much, but I have no idea
where that is, nor why I knew the calls were bad news. I just ignored them.
They didn't leave me any voicemails either. 

I hid out. I somehow let them know that I had a doctor's appointment to
attend to, though, since I refused to speak to them, I'm not sure how I
conveyed that. Perhaps that's why it wasn't conveyed very effectively, for
they showed up at my door. The whole gaggle of them. They stomped in
demanding to know why I wasn't returning their calls. I picked up my cell
phone and thrust it in an evil one's face. 

"You didn't leave a message, how was I supposed to know to call you back?"
At that the group clustered together for a short time to discuss this
development. "Did you leave a message? I didn't leave a message, did you
leave a message?"

No one had left a message. 

They asked why I wasn't at my doctor's appointment. I told them it was
because it wasn't quite time yet, but I really had to be on my way. Since I
seemed to still be in my pajamas, I think I was lying. I don't wear pajamas
either, so I'm not sure why I was in them at all.

But they would not leave until they did what they had come to do. And here
is what they said to me:

"Our books need work. We need our payroll done today for the past three
months. If you would have answered the phone this wouldn't be so late
getting to you, but since you made us come over here . . . we need this work
done today, payroll reports are due." Of course they are, it's October 31st.

I looked at them with something that might have resembled astonishment, or
disgust, or perhaps just weariness. "And that's my problem?" 

They huddled together for a moment, hurling enormously painful looks at me
from time to time, while they thought about this.

"Yes." 

I sighed heavily, as I tend to do when people bring me work at the last
minute that they want done yesterday. It's not as if it never happens, but
it has never happened to me with a group such as this. This was out of my
normal client base. Most of my clients are pleasant cheerful people, or I
fire them. None of them, as far as I know, is part of a murderous evil group
that goes around the countryside torturing people. (I think I've seen too
many movie previews lately - murderous and evil seem to be very important
for the winter of 2004.)

And then there's the whole payroll issue. How do these people manage to pay
themselves? Where do they get the money to pay themselves with? Do they do
contract work? I hadn't thought so, but this is not, after all, my typical
client. Are they salary or hourly? And if a dismemberment goes bad, does
that mean there'll be time and a half? Is there, heaven forbid, a freakin'
union? Are their time cards accurate? ARE there time cards? If someone
doesn't like their pay, will I have to pay with the loss of a limb? Just the
thought of trying to do three months of payroll for this odd group was
enough to make me consider asking for dismemberment instead, but I
restrained myself. 

Instead, I told them that there were other far more capable bookkeepers out
there who could do the job better, faster, and without whining about it, and
their best bet would be to go find one of them. Surprisingly, this tactic
worked, though there was quite a bit of grumbling from them. 

They got me in the end though. After they'd shuffled out of my hotel room (I
rarely conduct business in a hotel room, but there's no accounting for
dreams), a couple of them darted back in and helped themselves to some of my
office supplies, which were in a big open drawer. Staples, paper clips, that
sort of thing. And I didn't even try to stop them. Just let them go, as if I
can afford office supplies every time a disgruntled wanna-be client runs off
with some. 

This was obviously a nightmare. In real life, no one is going to get out the
door with any of my office supplies, I don't care who they are.

Monique