Well, here we are. Monday. Isn’t that something? Two more days of tax craziness. What WILL I do once this is over, I wonder? With all of that free time I suddenly have? I’m thinking weep. Weep with FREEDOM.
Listen, do you know what happens when you’re exhausted at the tax firm and you really like one of your coworkers? You get giggly. (I don’t mean “have a crush on” really like. I mean, get along with well. My coworker K. is just about the most kickass. We’ve worked together for six and a half years now in really close quarters and, luckily, enjoy each other’s company immensely. I can’t even imagine how hellish work would be if we didn’t, since we see each other, pretty much exclusively, all day long. Apparently, the girl in the position before I was there was a looney? And she called K. a VERY NAUGHTY WORD one time. Because K. didn’t want to do all the photocopying while the other chick did her nails or some such nonsense. The “c” word, if you must know. K. HATES the “c” word. Also, the looney chick one time went ballistic and screamed at everyone in the office because they cleaned out the fridge and threw away her moldy porkchop she was saving for some reason no one could ascertain. She works for the state government now, or so I’m told. So that’s nice, right?) And YES, K. and I are grown women. Grown women can get giggly when they’re exhausted, too. It’s allowed.
First, a little background. K. and I are clerical staff. So we do thousands of taxes. Personal, corporations, trusts, etc. Every one of those, once they’re done, needs to be processed. Sorted, stapled, sign-here stickers affixed, input into a database, addressed, etc. That’s what K. and I do. Well, among a million other things. It’s time-consuming and a little mind-numbing but it’s necessary.
This time of year, everyone’s on brain-fry. So they’re not double-checking their work like they’re supposed to. There are a LOT of errors in the returns that we’re getting. Forms missing. Spouse’s names missing. (Or, even worse, spouse’s names STILL THERE, when the spouse has either been kicked to the curb or has died.) And typos. Oh, my, the typos.
K. found two typos on Friday that probably weren’t that humorous? But neither of us is getting very quality sleep lately, and we’re busy as hell, and people are being shouty and demanding, and they just struck us as HILARIOUS. Also, K. is just the funniest to me. She says things in this deadpan way that cracks my shit UP.
K.: I don’t think this one’s right.
Me: Why, what’s wrong with it?
K.: Do you think the guy’s name is Dot John?
K.: Look. There’s a period in front of his first name. He’s Dot John.
Me: OMG. I think he’s a website.
K.: I don’t think he’s a website.
Me: Look at how much money he made. Maybe he is!
K.: I think I have to talk to the director about changing this.
Me: No, don’t. I like the dot. It’s jaunty. It’s like Doctor or Sir. It’s a title! Dot John.
So then all day long I kept calling people in the office Dot Whatever. Dot Amy. Dot Danny. Dot Mike. Dot Alex. And whenever I did it. K. and I would get the giggles. It got to the point where I was almost crying over the stupid dot. Then I started SINGING it, like that commercial. Is it Priceline? The one that says the website, then says, “DOT COOOOMMMM!” all cheery after it. Only I was saying, “DOT JOOOHNNNNN!” after it. Then I told K. that on 30 Rock, there was actually a CHARACTER named Dot Com, so I was pretty sure that Dot John was the guy’s real name.
Side note: it was NOT the guy’s real name, and the director in charge was TOTALLY stompy-pants about having to go into the system and change it. Well, it’s not OUR fault there’s a random period in front of the guy’s name, rendering him a website, now IS it, Stompy McStomp Stomp?
Then after the Dot John situation was cleared up – well, except for the giggling – she got ANOTHER one.
K.: Oh, shit. This isn’t right. Why do I keep getting these things?
Me: Probably because you pay attention. I don’t even care if there are typos in mine. What did you find this time?
K.: Look at this guy’s name.
(She showed me the cover letter. Now, the guy’s name was Walter. But somehow, a CZJ had been inserted in front of it, without a space, rendering him CZJWalter.)
Me: OMG. CZJWalter. I LOVE THAT. It’s very exotic.
K.: I’m pretty sure that can’t be right.
Me: I think it is. I think he’s from Czechoslovakia.
K.: His last name is Smith. I don’t think he’s from Czechoslovakia.
Me: Maybe they changed it at Ellis Island.
K.: What kind of name is CZJWalter?
Me: An awesome one. One that garners RESPECT. He could be a Russian mobster with a name like that.
K.: No, I just looked up what he does for a living. It doesn’t say Russian mobster.
Me: Well, OBVIOUSLY he wouldn’t put that on his TAX RETURN. That’d be a huge red flag.
K.: How would you even say that name?”
Me: Oh, easy. Sss-juh-walter. The C and the Z kind of moosh together into a S sound.
K.: I have to go talk to that same director about this.
Me: Oh, poor CZJWalter. He’s probably so tired of people thinking he doesn’t have a real name and that it’s a typo.
(Side note: it was a typo.)
So between Dot John and the Russian or possibly Czechoslovakian mobster CZJWalter, I was seriously in stitches. Tears of stitches. Again, I’m pretty sure these things weren’t funny to anyone but me and K., mostly because they just meant extra work for the people who have to fix such things. (I will refrain from saying that if you just DOUBLE CHECKED YOUR WORK TO BEGIN WITH, none of this would have happened! But then, think of the comedic gold that we would have missed out on. So sad.)
Ugh, so anyway. TWO MORE DAYS. And then a day and a half of cleanup, and then A DAY AND A HALF OFF. Which, honefully, will involve The Nephew in some capacity. Also, I was just reminded I have yet to see either The Hunger Games or Cabin in the Woods, and with a day and a half off, I could see BOTH OF THEM. Oh, the wonders that await me!
OK, this is short. I KNOW IT IS. Either you’re rejoicing over that, or you’re sadface. Either way, I’m ending this now because it’s time for me to move onto the next plan and then the next scheme. Sunday’s a-wastin’! (UPDATE UPDATE! I totally taught myself how to use my webcam this weekend. I win technology. Will there be video blogs in your future, my little sweet potatoes? Oh, there well might be.)
Happy Monday! Send happy rainbow kitten unicorn thoughts that I can be like the little engine that could today! Or at least the little-engine-that-could-refrain-from-bathroom-weeping-and/or-punching-her-coworkers!