The CPA

What could be more fun than spending my birthday with the CPA?  Watching paint dry?  Anyway, I made the best out of what was and found amusement in the situation. 

This CPA and I go back a long way.  I inherited him when I took over my current position 25 years ago.  He is a typical Jew complete with the whiny, demanding wife who never worked a day in her life.  He is slight of frame with poor posture and dons geeky, thick glasses that rest on his Jew beak of a nose.  Both he and his wife like to bring up the fact that they are Jewish every time I see them in person -- like I actually care.  I guess I'll never be a member of Club Jew.

After the boring, gritty process of producing the general ledger, balance sheet, profit and loss, bank statements, checking account registers, blah, blah, blah, blah, we went to lunch.  The conversation meandered about my birthday, and whether or not I thought about assisted living arrangements/retirement because "it's never too soon" to get my ducks lined up.  According to CPA, demand for senior living will exceed supply (typical CPA talk) and units fill up years in advance.  The population is aging....  how @#$&* depressing is THAT conversation?   It was so bleak and dry I actually started laughing. 

Sensing my discomfort/lack of interest of the conversation, CPA then started talking about television reality shows he's following.  I found that even more pathetic than talking about retirement living.  He then went on to talk about how he saves 13% on just about everything shopping at the military commissary.  This CPA guy is loaded with money and has real estate in San Francisco and Hawaii.  CPA needs to save 13% on toilet paper about as much as Mitt Romney.  It was like having lunch with an elderly, sheltered grandmother. I actually felt sorry for him. 

Anyway, I guess I should be flattered as he offered me a job at his firm in San Francisco as my record keeping is extremely organized and orderly.  That made the conversation about retirement, reality shows, and shopping at the commissary tolerable;)