What Was I thinking?

We had some last minute changes that had to be done. Unforeseen. Sure, they were big dollars. So, I got to and made the changes first thing.

I sent them off to one of the desk jockeys higher up the food chain to me with an explanatory note in email form of what I had done.

The last line I wrote was, "other than that [the qualifier in the previous sentence] everything should be good" then I just couldn't help myself and I put, "cross your fingers, smiley face emoji."

Chief Financial Accountants do not have a sense of humour, I know that, really, I do, what was I thinking? Sheesh!

Back came a questioning email, along the lines, either it was all now correct, or did I need some more time to go through it all again to double check?

No dickwad, it is called humour. I know it was early in the day, but seriously learn a joke, watch something funny, lighten up. *

* actually, that didn't happen at all, not letting the truth get in the way of a good story and all that. I imagined it to be true, and it is true of the awful black law firm for which I used to work and the she-bitch psychopath chief financial accountant who used to, and from all accounts, still does, haunt that firm like a poltergeist, or some tormented demon.

Truthfully, the guys I work with now find my funny asides endearing.

What, you ask? What are you on about? I had the distinct déjà vu shudder as I was rushing to get all of this corrected and complete, of my previous psycho financial controller breathing down my neck, the truly awful red-haired Belinda CuntFace. It cast my mind back when I worked under her and what she would say to a bit of humour being thrown into a push-for-time issue. So, I just let my imagination run with that. So that is what you got. Oh, it was just me thinking back.

I have handsome, young, blond Mitch working with me for a day. I don’t know what he is, I guess, you might call him an intern. Truthfully, I think he is the son of one of the partners who is in the final stages of his degree who is getting some experience in the real world. Why they put him with me, I don’t know, not a clue, but I do like sending him on errands, just so I can watch him walk away.

I want to tell him, Run, run, run young Mitchel run and be free. Go overseas, see the world, travel the seas, take drugs, screw the girls, screw the boys, have fun live and be free, don’t just leave uni and get an office job, but I am guessing that is not what dad wants me to do.