Tix, Tux and Tax
WARNING: The following blog post is rated SI (Self Indulgent). Readers with little to no desire to learn what Nick's been doing or his opinion on cyberpunk fiction are advised to go look at the video of Soundwave breakdancing on YouTube.
Hey, folks. I've been busier than a beaver during dam building season. (Do you know, I actually use that metaphor in real life? It sounds just as awkward spoken as it looks typed, trust me). The first half of the busy equation is the rapid approach of June 30, which is the end of the financial year. This basically means a lot of accounting/tax/financial clients who haven't bothered to talk to us for the last 11 and a half months suddenly need a LOT of work done RIGHT NOW. I had a phone call today at 11am by such a person asking for 10 hours of work (which they should have asked for November last year) to be done by tomorrow morning. I gritted my teeth and said "No problem", and then at 11.10am, a totally different client called up requested exactly the same thing. Yeesh.
It's a pain in the proverbial, let me tell you. Also because the sorts of people who neglect their financial affairs end up being the type who admit to neglecting it because they "don't see the value in it" which means they're a prickly sort when it comes to billing them. A lot of the time it's also just trivially insulting stuff - their financial records consist of a box of assorted receipts (yes, it doesn't just happen in movies) and they
* don't want to sort it out themselves
* don't want to pay us to spend the time to sort through them
I mean, people, I have to charge my time out in six minute increments. Every six minutes, I have to code the preceeding six minutes to a particular client ("Email to Mr. Smith re: receipts + box = SON OF A BITCH") or to non-chargeable time (cups of coffee = basic survival). This is encoded into a report that can and WILL be used to evaluate me at my yearly pay reviews ("You spent 7% of time in training and the budget was 5%"), so the last thing I need is crazy idiots telling me they don't want to pay me. The fact I'm even having a conversation with them means another six minutes is either going to be billed to them or written off. If you're having difficulty comprehending this concept, it's brilliant summarised in Eric Garcia's "Miss Cassandra's Training School for Boys". G'wan, it's in the first or second chapter. Then you can read his 'Anonymous Rex' (and sequels 'Casual Rex', and 'Hot and Sweaty Rex') which marries noir mystery with DINOSAURS. No, really. Anyway, six-minute timesheets..
Such is the life in the services-based industry. People who don't work in it (or work full-time at all) will be tempted to blurt out things like "Dude, quit" or "Tell them they should sort their own receipts out or they have to pay you, it's only fair". You don't understand, however. This is just how the industry is. Working in the services-industry, you can't tell the customer to get a clue, they'll get a new accountant. It's basically the same as working retail (my 2nd job), except you don't have to wear a namebadge and you get to sit down. And even if it weren't entirely this way, I've made a commitment to a career - quitting and becoming a chef means even more study. Speaking of which-
The other half to my busy-as-a-beaverness is I'm studying my Chartered Accountancy degree (which, if I get it, will give me a grand total of *three* degrees, and yet I spend most of my free time playing videogames?), and I've just received notice that the 'Most Difficult Subject In The World' subject, which the majority normally fails, has not only been passed by myself (somehow) but it actually my best mark so far (double somehow). I'm officially 60% through the course. Which calls for celebration (before I commence the next subject, next week):
At the Sydney Opera House, this orchestra is totally performing video-game music which is a slice of pure heaven to the sort of guy who lives on www.ocremix.org and tries to have discussions with people about why endlessly-lopping videogame scores are technically superior to 'classical music' (listen to the Final Fantasy Piano album, you heathens). I shall be attending, of course. I've got tickets for box-seats (I'm a professional, after all), together with a pal who actually makes games for a living with Sony/Playstation* and because it's the freaking Sydney Opera House, that means we're going to be wearing tuxedos. It'll be classier than Sinatra's appearance in Ocean's Eleven (the original, not the prequel prequel to Oceans' Thirteen), though nothing is quite as classy as the film that got him an Oscar, of course. (WARNING: CONTAINS TRACES OF DECAPITATED HORSE)
And that's why a personal post that starts as self-indulgent whine about why works sucks can turn into the revelation that life can sometimes be awesome, even if only briefly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to hear the Silent Hill composer himself perform the opening theme on electric guitar. Nectar of the gods.
And it's because I'm feeling so awesome and full of benevolence (and booze) right now that I'm sparing you my cyberpunk fiction whine. Escape while you can.
* - unique experience #43: Clocking a PS2 videogame recently and whilst sitting back and watching the credits, seeing the aforementioned friend's name popping up in the credits as a complete surprise. Now, that is awesome, my fur-riends.
Hey, folks. I've been busier than a beaver during dam building season. (Do you know, I actually use that metaphor in real life? It sounds just as awkward spoken as it looks typed, trust me). The first half of the busy equation is the rapid approach of June 30, which is the end of the financial year. This basically means a lot of accounting/tax/financial clients who haven't bothered to talk to us for the last 11 and a half months suddenly need a LOT of work done RIGHT NOW. I had a phone call today at 11am by such a person asking for 10 hours of work (which they should have asked for November last year) to be done by tomorrow morning. I gritted my teeth and said "No problem", and then at 11.10am, a totally different client called up requested exactly the same thing. Yeesh.
It's a pain in the proverbial, let me tell you. Also because the sorts of people who neglect their financial affairs end up being the type who admit to neglecting it because they "don't see the value in it" which means they're a prickly sort when it comes to billing them. A lot of the time it's also just trivially insulting stuff - their financial records consist of a box of assorted receipts (yes, it doesn't just happen in movies) and they
* don't want to sort it out themselves
* don't want to pay us to spend the time to sort through them
I mean, people, I have to charge my time out in six minute increments. Every six minutes, I have to code the preceeding six minutes to a particular client ("Email to Mr. Smith re: receipts + box = SON OF A BITCH") or to non-chargeable time (cups of coffee = basic survival). This is encoded into a report that can and WILL be used to evaluate me at my yearly pay reviews ("You spent 7% of time in training and the budget was 5%"), so the last thing I need is crazy idiots telling me they don't want to pay me. The fact I'm even having a conversation with them means another six minutes is either going to be billed to them or written off. If you're having difficulty comprehending this concept, it's brilliant summarised in Eric Garcia's "Miss Cassandra's Training School for Boys". G'wan, it's in the first or second chapter. Then you can read his 'Anonymous Rex' (and sequels 'Casual Rex', and 'Hot and Sweaty Rex') which marries noir mystery with DINOSAURS. No, really. Anyway, six-minute timesheets..
Such is the life in the services-based industry. People who don't work in it (or work full-time at all) will be tempted to blurt out things like "Dude, quit" or "Tell them they should sort their own receipts out or they have to pay you, it's only fair". You don't understand, however. This is just how the industry is. Working in the services-industry, you can't tell the customer to get a clue, they'll get a new accountant. It's basically the same as working retail (my 2nd job), except you don't have to wear a namebadge and you get to sit down. And even if it weren't entirely this way, I've made a commitment to a career - quitting and becoming a chef means even more study. Speaking of which-
The other half to my busy-as-a-beaverness is I'm studying my Chartered Accountancy degree (which, if I get it, will give me a grand total of *three* degrees, and yet I spend most of my free time playing videogames?), and I've just received notice that the 'Most Difficult Subject In The World' subject, which the majority normally fails, has not only been passed by myself (somehow) but it actually my best mark so far (double somehow). I'm officially 60% through the course. Which calls for celebration (before I commence the next subject, next week):
At the Sydney Opera House, this orchestra is totally performing video-game music which is a slice of pure heaven to the sort of guy who lives on www.ocremix.org and tries to have discussions with people about why endlessly-lopping videogame scores are technically superior to 'classical music' (listen to the Final Fantasy Piano album, you heathens). I shall be attending, of course. I've got tickets for box-seats (I'm a professional, after all), together with a pal who actually makes games for a living with Sony/Playstation* and because it's the freaking Sydney Opera House, that means we're going to be wearing tuxedos. It'll be classier than Sinatra's appearance in Ocean's Eleven (the original, not the prequel prequel to Oceans' Thirteen), though nothing is quite as classy as the film that got him an Oscar, of course. (WARNING: CONTAINS TRACES OF DECAPITATED HORSE)
And that's why a personal post that starts as self-indulgent whine about why works sucks can turn into the revelation that life can sometimes be awesome, even if only briefly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to hear the Silent Hill composer himself perform the opening theme on electric guitar. Nectar of the gods.
And it's because I'm feeling so awesome and full of benevolence (and booze) right now that I'm sparing you my cyberpunk fiction whine. Escape while you can.
* - unique experience #43: Clocking a PS2 videogame recently and whilst sitting back and watching the credits, seeing the aforementioned friend's name popping up in the credits as a complete surprise. Now, that is awesome, my fur-riends.