Remember my Tax Guy? He's still the best. And this year, he's making house calls.
Tax Guy is based in Colorado, but he has so many Bay Area clients (including fellow freelancing bloggettes Nomad Amy and Miss Mobtown) that he arranged to fly in and meet with all of us in person. He'll be here any minute.
But now is one of those moments when I wish I had an etiquette book handy. I mean, what do you wear when your Tax Guy comes over on a Sunday morning? Pajamas? A suit?
And what do you offer your Tax Guy at this hour (besides tea or coffee, I get that part): Cereal? Eggs? If I were Donna Reed, I'd totally have a batch of fresh-baked muffins ready. But my inner Donna must have stepped out for a while.
I'll probably just go with coffee and paperwork. I've got plenty of both, and that's why he's here. But if he saves me as much money this year as he did last year, I'll go buy us both the finest muffins in the land.
It's the least I can do for my Tax Guy when he comes to call.
She's never met a country she didn't like.
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3 comments:
what, are you nuts? Tax guy is just here to stealeth our monies.
Oh, but he was so nice. He only drank water, but he inspires muffin-making. And enables money-saving. You'll see.
Everyone knows, you give the Tax Man a key. Just that random key thats sitting in a corner drawer. You give it to him, and it baffles him long enough, because a key just freaks him out. He isnt sure what to do with it, because the possibilities in his own mind are all about the coin. Only few men walk into those lairs of supposed minerals.
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