12 Accountants and Their Darkest Secret

“Every April, I take a little cut for myself from my clients’ accounts, and use it to fill a refrigerated room in my house with Cadbury Creme Eggs. Then I swim around like Scrooge McDuck, if Scrooge McDuck ate so many of his gold coins he started vomiting.”

“My calculator broke a couple years ago, and I never got around to replacing it. Five grand is a nice, round number, and it’ll all even out — probably.”

“Just because I’m an accountant for a defense contractor doesn’t mean I’m complicit in war. That’s what I say to myself, popping a new stress ball at my therapist’s office every week.”

“I use a Zoom background of the Space Needle, and talk about the Mariners all the time. It’s only when their accounts are empty and they try to get in touch do they realize my ass is in Laos."

“If they want to wire me an allowance, so be it. In exchange, they get the comfort of thinking that their sweet Paul, Oliver or Sriharsha is still alive and well.”

“Look, there’s a billion reasons why they might need duct tape, jumper cables and a steel chair with restraints. Maybe they’re, uh, taping a guy to a steel chair while they jump his car?”

“It’s unfortunate, and why I’m only able to work with the bank accounts of four-year-olds and mice.”

“No no no, we’re not talking immigration. We’re talking little gray guy. Likes pistachios, hates high-pitched tones. Lives in a kiddie pool cause he has to stay wet, apparently.”

“Bleached it, burned it, back at work in the morning. You jog at night in all black, you don’t get to guilt trip me.”

“I’m not going to let my occupation get in the way of my dreams.”

“Let’s just say, I was on the side that rhymes with Yahtzee.”

“Oh, gosh, I can’t believe I’m admitting this!"