As I walked into the basement meeting facilities of the Palo Alto Sheraton hotel, I was immediately accosted by a brightly colored blond woman that screamed "PR for Life." She asked me if I was press. I nodded.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked?
She nodded back and handed me a packet of releases and papers. I thumbed through them eading over the propoganda she'd put together to support her side of the expensing issue. Frankly, I could have cared less, since I do not own, nor will I ever be offer any stock options.
I read an extremely slanted op-ed piece from the Wall Street Journal that this woman had printed up on her computer, carefully removing all evidence of the piece being an opinion piece. I smiled, poured myself a cup of coffee and jangled it in the saucer as I walked into the roundtable room.
Inside, I was the least well dressed there, but no one seemed to care or mind. Technically, I was in Haycock, as per St. Andrews rule: colared shirt, courduroys, only one hole in either. As I sat on a media reserved chair near a power outlet, it suddenly dawned on me: I was the poorest person in this room. And not just the poorest in terms of current assets. I mean for ever and all time. These various CEOs, CFOs, SEC, and FASB people have now, in their posession, more money than I will ever have, for the rest of my life. Added all up together.
And yet, I was not intimidated. I sat and typed furiously capturing as many juicy quotes as I could.
Eventually, the proceedings halted and the dancing girls were sent in. They were helped up onto the square roundtable by smiling accountants with pocket protectors. The older of the two held onto his final girl's hand just a little too long there, letting a small pudle of drool drip from his lips.
Once they were in full kick lines, the banners and baloons dropped. It was a going away party for Michael Crooch, whos tenure on the Financial Accounting Standards Board is finished at the end of this year. He stood and humbly bowed as the numerous scantily clad ladies sat both on and around him.
Accountants are so silly, sometimes.