The Cover Up

During my nine hour stint today at work (official title: Super Accounting Dude), I was playing with some numbers ("Where'd five go? Where'd fiiiive go? Peekaboo!") when someone dropped an expense report on my desk. Expense reports are filled out and given to me for two reasons: One, as a way to document and turn in receipts in order to receive a reimbursement, and two, to explain what the expense was for and how it relates to company business. A coincidental third reason for filling out expense reports is so I can test for basic knowledge of Excel and how formulas work, basic addition and subtraction, and last but certainly not least, correct spelling and grammar.

As someone who has trudged through the public screwl system and graduated college with a fancy degree that I still haven't picked up from the university...




...I was surprised at first to see upper management people and other big titles handing me expense reports with incorrect addition due to poor use of formulas in Excel, misspellings of their superior's last name...multiple times, and other gross typos and grammatical oversights. In some cases, some people seem to be incapable of turning in expense reports at all EXCEPT when a reimbursement is needed. Then they are magically able to find all of their receipts and finish what previously seemed to be the insurmountable task of allocating five minutes to filling out an expense report.

So when the expense report was dropped on my desk, I did my normal professional accounting routine - look for spelling errors. Normally, if that produces no hilarity, I'll then flip through the receipts. Since I'm just an accountant, I don't get to go to all the fancy dinners where clients are schmoozed and expensive bottles of wine are swished and tips are given in amounts that are more than what I make in a day. So I do the next best thing - find the receipts that give a line-itemized account of what was purchased, and live vicariously. It's a glamorous profession, but someone has to do it.

This particular expense report was submitted by a lady whom I know has never had to fill out an expense report before. I don't know how some people feel about submitting expense reports that show in detail what they consumed/enjoyed/partook of/etc... on the company dollar. Maybe some feel guilt at ordering that extra martini; maybe some feel justified in eating that $50 steak; maybe some others do it unabashedly in the noble name of putting on a well-fed face for the company.

Regardless of the reason, the person who submitted this expense report apparently had some issue she was trying to cover up. Admittedly, I don't talk to this particular person at work very much, so I don't know if perhaps she's on a diet, or conscious of her weight, or maybe just afraid of what others think of her eating habits. But I just don't understand why else she would do this:



The first item on the receipt is for a Chocolate Chip Cookie. However, it's not just any chocolate chip cookie - it's a nearly $3 chocolate chip cookie. Imagine the size! It must have been like holding a garbage can lid with both hands and...oh wait. It's from an airport snack bar. It was probably more like holding a quarter with a thumb and index finger and probably tasted similar too.

Regardless of its size, "someone" crossed out "Choc CP Cookie" and wrote "BAGEL" above it. I'm sorry, but how stupid does she think I am?

Sean: *mouth gaping open, with a string of drool reaching from my bottom lip to the desk* "Daaaah, uh bayguhl? Oh ummkay, dat sownds akseptabuhl. At leest it wusn't a kooky."

Besides, I'm not stupid because I'm not the one buying an imported strawberry from Odwalla (where's that? Australia?) for $4.99. Unless it was this one:



Part of me wanted to confront her about it in the hallway or something and ask,

"So, how was your...bagel?"
"It was fine, thank you."
"Oh, was it? Oh, I'm so glad to hear that! Here's your reimbursement check."

Hey, I'm in accounting and sit in a cubicle all day. I'm not one for confrontations. I would probably choose a more subtle route.

Bagel Girl: "Look! Someone brought homemade chocolate chip cookies to work."
Me: "Oh, it's too bad they didn't bring any nutritious guilt-free BAGELS!"
Bagel Girl: "Why are you yelling?"
Me: "LOOK OVER THERE!" *takes the chocolate chip cookie platter and runs*

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sudden hankering for a...bagel. And an Australian strawberry.

100th Blog Post!

And it only took me five and a half years! That has to be a record of some sort...

I have an abundance of time to observe the idiosyncrasies of life during my eight minute, two mile drive to work. The recent rainstorm on Monday (net precipitation: -.01 inches) reminded me of my favorite thing about driving in the rain in Southern California: watching the sun-drenched natives react to this "weird wet stuff, like, falling from the sky and making it, like, hard to see outta my window, man".

When I left for work in the wee early hours of the morning (7:45) on Monday, the intensity of the raging storm was somewhere between a mild mist and a subtle sprinkling, not unlike the automatic spritzers which keep the produce wet in the supermarket. It's the sort of torrent that requires you to give your windshield a once-over with the wipers every ten or fifteen seconds or so. One might call it a bum moistener, a ruined car wash, or a reason to rethink your footwear choice from flip flops to shoes.

And yet, this does not stop certain drivers from exhibiting a peculiar behavior which I search for whenever a window wetter of a storm like this hits.

Instead of an occasional gentle burst from the wipers, or even a low intermittent setting, these drivers have their windshield wipers set on "excited dog". They have their wipers wagging on the absolute maximum setting, easily restricting their vision more than the rain could ever do. Do these people know that there are settings lower than "crazed metronome"? If they're accustomed to using the highest setting for the slightest bit of rain, I wonder if they feel that the fastest is inadequate when it actually pours? If they could, they'd probably turn the wipers up so high that the heat generated from the friction of the blades whipping back and forth would actually cause the water to evaporate before it hits the windshield.

Another thing that I notice while driving that seems a little silly to me is those little stick figure decals that people put on their car windows to represent their families.

For instance, a typical Southern California decal set looks something like this:

In other words, you've got typical parents with their socially acceptable though culturally unsustainable 2.5 kids (each pet apparently accounts for .25 in this pic).

When I see decals like this, I think about the "what if" possibility. Like, what if I lived in Utah? Would I see a decal like this?



Or what would you think if you passed by a car with the following decals? I know I would switch lanes.



What I don't get is how unrealistic they all are. I always see these decals being used to portray a fun-loving family where the dad is an athletic surfer guy who is obviously his kids' best friend because he's so incredibly cool, the mom is still a stylish and involved person who can make an applesauce stain look glamorous, the kids are equally vivacious and socially brilliant, and the family pet is the cutest thing since my daughter.

However, in reality, this is Southern California. The dad probably works 80 hours a week to support a lifestyle that he still can't afford or enjoy, the mom probably hires a housekeeper, has the kids in daycare, gets weekly makeovers and the occasional face-lift, and works full-time just to afford these things, the kids are probably fat from a steady diet of no exercise and daily fast food, and they likely get the majority of their parental guidance from sitting slack-jawed in front of the idiot box, and nothing is cuter than my daughter.

Speaking of my daughter (end awesome segue), Emily is seven months old now. We had a father/daughter evening at the park tonight while Mommy stayed home and rested (she's sick with a cold) after a full day of taking care of Emily. We drove to a nearby park at 5:30 after I got home from work, put her in the jogging stroller, and went over to the basketball courts. I put the stroller between the 3-point line and half-court, facing the basket, and shot around for 25 minutes. She enjoyed watching Daddy play, and also entertained herself with her favorite rattle.

She eventually got bored and told me as much. I responded to her cries by putting my basketball into the storage area below the stroller and strolling to the dirt track right next to the courts. I then ran four laps around the track, while Emily provided sound effects. The track is a little bumpy, so Emily would emit a monotone "aaaaaahhhhhhhhh" and the vibration would turn it into "ahAHahAHahAHahAHahAH" She did that for at least half of the time - she loves hearing her voice especially when it vibrates either by her getting bounced or by someone tapping her mouth.

I got tired eventually, and started a cool-down walk. After ten minutes or so, we headed back to my car. An hour had passed, and I figured I would pack up and go home.

But when I picked up Emmy, she was so happy to be held that I decided to head over to the swings for a little while. I put her in the little swing that has the restraint chain and pushed her - she loved it. We did that for a while until Daddy started getting jealous, so I picked her up, sat on an adult swing, put her in my lap facing me, and swung with her.

She was very animated when she swung in her own swing, but she was much more subdued and relaxed when she swung with me. She seemed to like being able to swing a little higher, and she might have liked being in Daddy's warm arms, who knows? After a few minutes, just as I was starting to slow down, her head hit my chest. Less than a minute later, she was asleep on my chest while still swinging. Once we stopped, I half walked, half snuggled her to the car and drove home.

I like being a daddy.