It Was Just Like I Pictured It, Skyscrapers and Everything
I paid a visit today to a friend and former co-worker, a CPA in downtown Seattle. I assemble tax data for one of my clients and pass it on to him for tax advice and return preparation, one of the dark arts I foreswore when I took up systems consulting.
He has a way of being both grounded and quirky, and attracts clients from some of the more interesting walks of life. The way it works, I guess, is he disarms them with his own quirkiness, then busts their chops with his groundedness and guides them to do the right thing. Works well for all parties, it seems.
A quick look at his files, however, discloses that one may cross the evanescent line between quirky and irredeemable:
There’s no reason I couldn’t have mailed him my client’s data, but it struck me over the weekend that I hadn’t been downtown during the day in forever - such insularity is an occupational hazard of the home-office set, with the inevitable result that you forget how to dress yourself completely and act acceptably - so I sued him for lunch, and we had an excellent repast at the Dragonfish Asian Cafe.
Didn’t see which venue my handiwork consigned my client’s files to, but I do have a couple of voice messages, and they’re probably not compliments.
