HUMOR

Just Because My Office Is In A Storage Unit Doesn’t Mean You Shouldn’t Hire Me As Your Accountant

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

So I hear you’re looking for a new accountant! Well, look no further!

Okay, look a little further.

I’m back here, behind the couch with all the stains — it’s not blood, it just looks like blood, ha ha! —the beer fridge, the Christmas ornaments, the weight bench, the broken clothes dryer, and all the boxes of super important and confidential client records that criminals would have a field day with if they broke in here, or if, say, the entire contents of this storage unit were auctioned off on Storage Wars because I haven’t paid the rent in six months.

Ha ha again! It’s only been four months.

If it looks like I’m living in here, too, and not just conducting business as a certified public accountant, it’s because I am.

DON’T sit there. Sorry, that’s the poop bucket. See, I made a seat from a piece of plywood and a hand saw I stole… I mean, borrowed… from one of the other units. These locks are really flimsy.

I just emptied it since I knew I had clients coming in, but if you prefer, just spray that can of Febreze over there into a paper…