In twenty-five days I will be, oh God this pains me to say it, forty-three.
I mean forty-three does beat the alternative, but Holy Crap, forty-three.
That is four decades and three years.
That is 15695 days.
That is. I am not going to break it down any further.
Thank God for my job!
It does the ego good.
More clients are coming in now due to meetings, and when they meet me, many are convinced that one or the other of my bosses is my father.
Both of my bosses are fifty-five, which means if one was my father, he would have had me when he was twelve.
They have six daughters between them, ranging in ages from twenty-two to twenty-six.
And I do believe at one time or another each of those daughters has worked in the office.
Speaking of which, one is working in the office part-time right now.
I must say, it totally makes my day when a client honestly thinks I am a daughter.
I shared this with a co-worker and she kinda missed the point.
She was like, yeah, anytime I am down here, clients think I am one of the daughters too.
Um, she’s twenty-five and went to school with these daughters.
I am not happy out of my gourd because they think I am a daughter, I am happy out of my gourd because they think I am in my late twenties!!
As if the ego couldn’t be stroked any more, clients also first thank me and then their accountant for doing their taxes.
Honest, I have it in writing!
I have even had a few people call up saying: Yeah, I was referred by so and so and I need to speak with Lisa so she can do my taxes.
Perhaps having my name plastered all over all modes of communication with clients since day one really wasn’t a bad thing after all.
I could get so used to this!
And maybe, just maybe, I can handle welcoming the big 4-3 at the end of this month.
Ok. Maybe not.
But I can handle the big 4-3 as long as I look the little 3-4 part and feel like the 2-6 that I am dying to have a do over with!
Ok. I gotta go get ready for work.
One of my “dads” is picking me up due to the weather.