Toby wasn’t like the other kids, instead of dreaming of fame or glory he dreamed of spreading apart the sheets of a Big 4 firm and going through the motions of corporate missionary sex: accounting.
While all his mates were busy partying away their futures, Toby counted his beans and scaled the corporate beanstalk one voluntarily unpaid hour at a time. In 3 years he had a 2015 Toyota Camry, a cat and 1000 connections on Linkedin. Just the way he liked it, baby.
Of course, in the July of each year he would become more than just another grey suit in a sea of bleak 9-5 haircuts, he became a fucking rockstar. He was the guardian of your tax return money and he relished the opportunity to bust his Waleed face at his friend’s abysmal finances.
Of course to get your tax money you had to first enter his lair of judgment. Where you were made to feel that if you stopped spending all your money on travel and living life to the max you too could afford a modest 2 by 1 on the outskirts of Clarkson. You stupid piece of shit.
During this time of year, Toby doesn’t need nose beers or to detonate weapons of mass pingstruction in his anoos, he is high on sensible deductions and dad-ish advice to his mates. A high that made him an absolute madman on the biggest night of the year for accountants: the EOFY party. He was about to get looser than an Isreal Folau Instagram post.
Mere hours into last year’s roaring celebration Toby had necked 3 white wines, busted a short caucasian two-step on the d-floor and told a receptionist her stationery was always immaculately presented on her desk. She gushed like the Niagara Falls. That’s right, the 2 for 1 Specsavers glasses were off and the goose was loose.
After his 5th Pinot Gris he bravely marched up to the receptionist and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, “perhaps you would like to come over next weekend and help me study for my CA, and fudge it, we’ll get some of this Thai food I’ve heard so much about”. Woah, easy Casanova, give the rest of us a chance.
He eventually cancelled their plans after looking up how much a Pad Thai would cost to be delivered to his door. You laugh now, but you just wait until the sweet retirement he has from a life he never really lived.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?