Need some cash?
Send us a bogus invoice, we’ll pay it.
Seriously. I’ve just got off the phone with one of our purveyors who thanked us kindly for the three payments I’d made, none of which match any invoice delivered, and the sum total meaning they now owe us $210.
I used to perform for a living people. Dancers only have to count to 8.
Add to that a sick pastry chef, an absent dishwasher, not enough staff for a Wednesday night and a daughter who has decided the optimum time to get my attention is between the hours of 12 and 3.30am and perhaps you can forgive a gal.
Things are a tad hectic around this joint.
Gregory was going to change the menu – again – but one look at my frazzled face as I tried to water the indoor herbs while juggling the reservations book on my knee made him reconsider in the interests of personal and marital survival.
I am now staring at a pile of invoices, none of which seem to match anything I’ve put through our bank account, and have decided to call in the big dogs…my mother.
Ex-maths teacher, meticulous (some might say anal), thorough, precise, with a loving and longstanding relationship with a calculator.
Einstein said ‘doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results’ is the definition of insanity. I say ‘outsourcing jobs you suck at to people who enjoy them’ is the definition of genius.
Sure, she currently babysits for us 5 nights a week too, but fair go, Q goes to bed by 8, there’s a good few hours after that she’s just lying about the couch watching reruns of CSI Peru when she could be solving my invoice crisis.
So stand by purveyors, you shall be paid. And this time correctly.