Role-playing

Each day I wake up, take a shower and stand at my closet all drippy. I look into a sea of costumes and choose one. Monday through Thursday I choose my accountant ensemble, the rest of the time I choose something more spontaneous and exciting. It wasn’t easy coming up with all these accountant costumes, mind you. Cal can testify that when I started acting as an accountant during the day, my outfits didn’t always work. In fact at my old job they called me porn star, because I missed the mark pretty bad one day. Who knew that if you dress too conservatively with a short skirt, glasses and hair pulled back you looked like a whore, not an accountant?

Well, I have it pretty down pat by now. Most people at work buy that I really am an accountant, and most people in my social circle know that I’m really not an accountant at all. Part of what I do when playing a bean counter, is to go into companies and audit them. It’s fun. I like to think they are scared of me uncovering fraudulent activity, but that rarely happens. I tap my little red pencil on their desk and ask scathing questions. It’s like playing the bad cop when someone’s stolen money. “I know you’ve got it somewhere, Stan. Just tell me where you hid it and no one gets hurt”. I’ve never had the opportunity to say that, but I will someday. The writers of this play will have to get it right one day.

On Monday I visited one of my clients. I arrive on time and dressed in costume. I demand to be taken seriously for the mad skillz counter that I am. I was shown to my area, and was told that IT would be up shortly to configure my computer so I could connect to their network.

“Fine, fine. Yes fetch me a cup of coffee, would ya?” I snapped.
A blank stare came across the client service manager’s face.
“Oh, sorry. Can I ask you where you guys keep the coffee? I could use a cup after the drive up”.

I’m taken to the break room, and dispensed one Styrofoam cup. She leads me back to my area in time for me to see that the IT boys have gotten my computer hooked up to their network.

As I walk over to them, I see one boy hit the history on my Internet explorer. I think nothing of it. I sit down, take a sip of coffee, and look back up at my monitor only to see this looking back at the poor chaps.

Damn, I fell out of character again!

Note to self: must clean browser if people are to believe I am an accountant and not some kinky freak with a plastic fetish. Which of course I’m not. I hate the smell of rubber…well you know what I mean.