My first case in point is "He who used to be be called My Accountant' (in a reverent, hushed tone). OK he wasn't the type of person I would normally socialise with and definitely not a person to joke with, but he was 'My Accountant'. Or he was until things started to go bad. As I am self employed, a GST (Goods & Services Tax and we won't go there) return has to be filed every two months. The holier than thou 'My Accountant' or rather his staff, filed these on my behalf. At the beginning of the month I would receive notification that this was due and asked to forward my invoices pronto. One month, I didn't receive this notification and had to chase them - the staff member apologised, and then I had to chase them again as I was sure tax had to be paid and I had received no notification. When it comes to the Tax Department, you don't fart, you don't breathe - you just pay up on time or else (I presume the 'or else' entails men in black suits and sunglasses dragging you away to dark tax dungeons). So I chased 'My Accountant' up - and a staff member gave me the amount to be paid and just in the nick of time. Two months later the scenario was repeated. I thought mmmm I am not dealing with the lackeys this time, I am heading to the top. To he who is mightier than thou, and to let him know what is going on.. with the added punchline in my email that if I received any penalties, hey buddy you are going to pay not me. Well quicker than a prostitute can drop her drawers, I received a reply email telling me to pull my head in, I was lucky they were providing this service to me and they would not tolerate being told off.
Umm, ehhhh? Actually to be honest, my response was WTF!!! I pay you a lot of money for this. Time to find a new 'My Accountant' who is doing very nicely thank you, and at half the price. And so to you who used to be 'My Accountant' go suck raspberries, when they are green and hard and covered in bird poop.
That was on the Accountancy side of things. Now let's move on to the Medical side of things.
I had occasion to see my very lovely GP. He hasn't seen me with my very bright, very colourful full head of hot pink coloured hair before. The world is such a dull place, so if my follicles can brighten someone's day - why not!
Well he wanted to know the colour, how he could get it (I told him he would have to grow some hair first as he is extremely follicly challenged) and all the medical centre staff were then paraded in to admire my hair. I then had to regale him with some current medical woes (ingrown toe nails can be a right bitch - ok it was haemmorhoids, but that is a pile of shite as well) and what I had experienced at the hands of a Specialist. Who supposedly is even mightier than the mightier than thou Accountant. To be spoken of in a hushed tone as well - or so I used to think.
My darling GP decided the way I told my tale was extremely funny, and told me this would all be related at his next Doctor's meeting (by the way, do you think that's the equivalent of Alcoholics Anonymous... Hello, my name is Doctor Spock and today I accidentally prescribed Viagra to a 96 year old virgin), He then brought in the 'Big Kahuna' of the Medical practice as she was stressed and needed a laugh. We finished our consultation with him giving me a big hug and some little blue pills. Ha gotcha - you thought they were Viagra didn't you!! Nope, they are my little happy sleepy pills for a once a week, out of this world, good sleep. Does your Doctor hug you? This wasn't in a sleazy way, but just a ha, you made me laugh and I want to thank you for it, hug.
And now just when you thought the world couldn't get any madder. Look at Santa!! He has just done gone and got himself upside down, and every which way but the right way. I came home and found him like this. What is happening to this world!!
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