My Christmas break job gives me a newer, more expanded appreciation for the fact that I am not majoring in accountancy. It never ceases to amaze me that a single transaction, even for something as simple as a waffle iron rental, can generate such a flurry of papers, checks, forms, and other strange actions simply to ensure that somebody (read: nobody) will be able to refer to it seven years later.
Good grief. At least the money is good. I’m back in the ‘Bend on Saturday.