I had an appointment to chat to my financial guru this week. I haven’t seen him for nearly a year (except for bumping into him once in the dvd shop) so we had a few things to catch up on.
Part of our discussion went something like this:
Me: I’ve been making a few changes in my working life lately, trying to create a better balance between earning a living and enjoying how I spend my time.
FG: I see. And what exactly has that involved?
Me: Well, I love crocheting and beading and mosaicing and sewing and stuff like that. So I thought I could start designing and producing items on a more business-like model and, you know, sell them.
FG: I see. And where would you sell these items?
Me: At craft markets, mainly.
FG: I see. Can you give me an idea of some of the items you make?
Me: Yes! Shawls and mirrors and hats and bags and photo frames and salt and pepper cellars and scarves and lampshades and brooches and necklaces and blankets and …
FG: I see. So, basically anything, then? Not a particular “line” as such?
Me: No, I suppose not.
FG: I see. And how do you fit all this into your time considering you also have a full-time job as a technical writer and content developer with a well-established and rapidly-growing company?
Me: I don’t. I gave that up.
FG: I see. Let me get this straight, then. You gave up your decent, secure, professional career so you could fiddle around at home with wool and fabric and wood and glue and the internet? At the age of 50, in the middle of a recession? With a child still to be put through university?
Me: Yes.
FG: What were you thinking?
Me: Um – I was thinking that life is short? Too short to be trapped in an office? Too short not to give something else a really good punt? While I still have a bit of life left in me?
FG: I see. And you do realise that your life is going to be a lot shorter if you can’t make this work and end up living on the streets at the mercy of the elements with rags on your back gnawing on chicken bones scavenged from restaurant dustbins?
Me: [silent internal freak-out but speaks up bravely] I guess so.
FG: [sighs deeply and shakes head] Well, good luck to you, is all I can say now. And about my fee for my services and submitting your tax return? – perhaps you could settle that account sooner rather than later?
Me: Of course. Or…how about I knit you a nice new cardigan instead? No? Ok, fair enough. No harm in trying!
To be continued…
Nice piece of work 
Did you tell him he’s fired?
Actually, he is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. But it’s complicated
Lol! He obviously hasn’t seen your cardigans!
True. I’ll try that again next year…. :-)
Very funny the way you tell it. It made me smile. :-D
Slight fictionalising of possible scenarios! Sometimes I am FG in my mind :-)
Jill,
Oh My Gosh! Obviously you trust your accountant or you wouldn’t have shared this information with him. But he sure knows how to lower the old self esteem or maybe you’re the kind of person that likes to be told that you can’t do something and that makes you want to do it even more? That’s the way I am. Like I’ve told you before “Keep on Truckin” and maybe next year when you go back to have your taxes done you can stick your tongue out at him and smile. Oh by the way Lady I just love the way you tell your storys in a manner that makes me laugh until I can’t see straight. Good Luck in all that you do and I mean it (unlike your accountant friend). :)
Love you and I wish I were there to give you a big ((((HUG)))),
Tamara
Tamara, I feel your hugs!!! :-)
*standing O* Bravo, bravo BRAVO!!!!!