It's been a busy week at work so far and it's only Tuesday lunchtime. What with my business partner being away on his annual sojourn to Sri Lanka, I've been running the good ship Addit, Makeitup & Co on me lonesome. As you may know, at the moment my left hand would not look out of place on the end of Tuntenkhamun's left arm. The stitches came out yesterday, and a new swathe of bandage was duly applied by the comely Nurse Debbie. Anyway, a few clients have turned up with their annual accounting records, and their initial question on seeing my wrapped maw is always along the lines of "How did you do that?" A reasonable query, and so far I have resisted the urge to tell an Asian taxi driver, a permanently gloomy gardener, and a rather dim tradesman that my injury came about as the result of a Rugby wanking accident.
It's all your fault, and you know who you are..;)
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Staying on the wonderful Accountan-sea, a forum I'm a member of had an article from an American accountant called Blumer extolling the virtues of Cloud Accounting...no it's not the art of counting clouds. Full of largely unintelligible techno-bollocks like "With Cloud tools, we are able to help clients move into a world of managing “data flows” as opposed to doing accounting"...and..."The new breed of accountants will have to become experts in how computer systems talk to each other and how best to make them work together"...and..." innovative cloud providers are building products that are challenging our beliefs on how to process accounting data"...wake up at the back, there!
At the end of his tech-speak wibbling, he reckons..."The right systems are challenging the old out-dated way of doing things and proposing new ways to do it. Some won’t like it. But they can kiss my butt."
Fair enough Mr Blumer, who I bet is large of girth and sports a stetson on nights out at the rodeo with his equally fat wife, but it's difficult enough getting clients to write things down on paper, or maintain a simple spreadsheet a ten year old could do in their sleep, let alone teaching them how to wing stuff off into the ether. It's another world baby, and it ain't nowhere near Shoesville.
Mind you, the idea of an accountant using phrases like "kiss my butt" is quite amusing, I think I'll take it up!
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