They did as he ordered. Finally looking cowered, someone handed a scanner to Beverly. The first two boxes showed nothing wrong. My heart was in my throat. The next one showed an incorrect quantity like I thought was happening. Then another and another, and another. Mr. Kostas’s face kept getting darker and darker as his anger began building up. I was glad that it wasn’t directed at me. I looked around and noticed that the warehouse crew seemed to be disappearing and moving away from the area.

The thought hit my mind. ‘Not feeling too guilty now are you boys?’

I noticed Beverly was looking at the old man with no expression on her face so I tried to do the same. With a visible effort he managed to pull himself together before exploding. Full props for his self-control. His asked us into his office, a small place with a wooden desk that was made before I was born. It was over flowing with loose paper work and files, the type of office you would expect to see an older man have. Although odds were that he knew where every single letter and document was at a glance.

He offered us coffee which we politely declined as well as cookies that he said his granddaughter had just made last night. Then he asked us to explain everything to him and to keep it simple so that he could understand it easily.

The thought was screaming in my head that ‘I call BS! This old man is no one’s fool and knows much more than he lets on. Anyone who cannot see that is an idiot.’ But I kept a straight face and tried to mimic Beverly’s tone and demeanor on our (my) idea of the how and why. He was thanking her for helping him when she stunned me by giving yours truly full credit for figuring out what had been going on. I am not used to getting the credit for doing things right, only the blame for everything, and everyone else’s mistakes.

When we were leaving I asked a young scared looking receptionist for a plastic bag. All three of them looked at me with puzzled expressions until I explained that I had oily grease on me and didn’t want to stain the upholstery in Beverly’s car. Mr. Kostas immediately reached for his wallet and said he needed to reimburse me. I refused saying it went with the job, but thanked him.

After all if I am going to be ‘pimped out’ by Beverly I didn’t want my “Pimp Momma” getting mad at me. Obviously I didn’t say that out loud. (So very few people appreciate my finely developed sense of humor and wit.)

The plastic bag was laid out neatly on the seat so there was no stain mishap on the way back to the office. Neither one of us said anything while Beverly drove back, it is nice to be with someone who doesn’t feel as if she has to fill every minute up with talk. This was not an aspect of accounting that I had thought would happen. I don’t think that it usually does. When we got to our building she surprised me by locking the door behind us and motioning me into her office telling me to have a seat.

“What did you learn from this?”

I had to think for a minute not to sound trite or flippant.