I have Led Zepplin in my head. It’s been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time. I like it when people have nouns for last names – like Plant, for example. Beans are plants, FYI. Who says this blog isn’t educational?
I’m sort of obsessed with the term “bean counters” these days. I’ve never used it myself, but I seem to be hearing it a lot lately. “Let’s see what the bean counters come up with,” or sometimes, “Ignore him, he’s just a bean counter.”
Last time I checked, beans were sold by weight, not number. So why do they need to be counted? As we say back home, that don’t make no sense.
Maybe bean counters are specialist brought in to deal with exotic beans…like the Mexican Jumping kind or the bean stalk growing kind. I can’t imagine buying either of those by the pound.
If I had a bean counting firm, I’d hire someone named Frank so I could call it Frank & Beans, LTD. That would be the best stationary ever.
When Christmas came around, I’d make coffee mugs for all my employees with the phrase “Bean there, done that!” painted on the side in big balloon letters.
I bet the nickname has something to do with coffee beans. I hate coffee. I hate coffee so much I won’t even eat coffee cake. What possesses you people to drink that dirty brown water is a mystery to me. But I find that mystery way less intriguing that the mystery of why we call accountants “bean counters.”
Maybe Boston is the accounting capital of the world… Like I need another reason to hate Boston.
Hey, did you know I almost became and accountant? No seriously. I have a degree in it and everything. I could have been a bean counter myself. It kinda hurts my heart to thinking how close I came to having my Frank & Beans, LTD stationary. Damn you, path less taken. Damn you and your bean free ways.
Oh hell, I’ll just make up some Frank & Beans stationary on my computer. That’s way better than having to account for any length of time.
Sometimes I miss accounting, though. Don’t tell, but I still swoon when I see a particularly foxy balance sheet. And fine, I love saying EBITDA. Come on, just try it. Ebitda! Heh. Unless you’re a bean counter (and I mean that in the accountant sense at the moment), it’s pretty hard to work that into conversation.
If I had to go back to counting beans, I’d want to be assigned to counting Mr. Beans. That doesn’t sound too hard. I’d show up thirty minutes late to the office, fill my company mug with green tea (or Franzia) and set about my work for the day. “Let’s see, there’s one…and my work is done.” I’d be back home before lunch. Which would be a big ol’ bowl of baked beans, of course.
I hate baked beans. Almost as much as I hate coffee. (For the record, that’s still less than I hate Rod Stewart but more than I hate Boston.)
And what the fuck is up with lima beans? If they’re from Peru, which allegedly they are, shouldn’t they be pronounced with an e instead of an i sound? I’m awful glad I don’t have to count them. I’d be too busy with my campaign to teach correct bean name pronunciation in inner cities to stay focused on their quantities.
Bean counters. Meh. It doesn’t even sound fun. I’d much prefer legume quantificator or produce enumerator. But neither of those lend themselves to witty coffee mugs or stellar stationary.
Why do they call it stationary when it’s designed for mailing? I mean, if I send a letter to my pen pal in Lichtenstein, the paper moves, right? Is my head hurting anyone else?
Why yes, I still feel a little under the weather. Why do you ask?