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The Dash To Cash After all the excitement and rushing around of Thursday night Friday I assumed would be a moseying round type of day. Get all my work done and everything would be just delightful. The morning was like that and then the afternoon turned into a dash to cash�cheques that is! 1. An annoying person that would call every hour to find out what was happening with the money. 2. A last minute cheque rush that was thrust upon an already overloaded Trust Accounting gal. 3. A lunch for someone leaving. At that lunch were 3 cheque signers, 3 of the 4 that can sign for a certain account. It was 4 o�clock and that were yet to return. 4. The other cheque signer was in a meeting. 5. Not being able to contact the people at lunch to find out their location so I could run there and shove a pen in their hand and a cheque under their nose. By 4.15 I was just about having a freaking heart attack! After the umpteenth time of saying �I will call you as soon as I know what is exactly going on. I wouldn�t want to tell you something off the cuff and then to disappoint later. I will definitely call you as soon as I know, sir!� I gave up getting calls from that particular person and diverted my phone to message service so I could race around and try and get these signatories back from lunch. The harried Trust Accounting gal interrupted the meeting to get one signatory and then we hi-tailed it to another end of the building to grab somebody else. Another delightful person in Finance rang the signatories and took the cheque and ran it down to them to get signed. I would have done it myself but I had no idea what the bloke looked like. The end of the tunnel was near as I whizzed into Westpac across the road and practically through the cheque at the teller to deposit. And as I deposited that last cheque into the St George Bank I had an overwhelming feeling of euphoria. Challenge complete! I type this as I sit panting in my seat with sweat dripping from behind my knees, my ears, down my back etc. I must have looked quite funny running through the CBD with my clown pants inflated with every stripe. The pants are red and quite roomy, I like to think clowny. Did any of that just make sense? I�m giggling like a silly little baby chicken with haemorrhoids. Tyd 14 June 2002 - 5:17 pm Make your mark | 0 have left their mark [ back | front ]   |
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