Two accountants are in a bank, when armed robbers burst in. While several of the robbers take the money from the tellers, others line the customers, including the accountants, up against a wall, and proceed to take their wallets, watches, etc. While this is going on accountant number one jams something in accountant number two’s hand. Without looking down, accountant number two whispers, “What is this?” to which accountant number one replies, “it’s that $50 I owe you.”
Saint Peter starts asking him all the usual questions required to get into heaven. The accountant, it seems, has repeatedly helped people cheat on their taxes and embezzle funds. Finally, in exasperation, St Peter asks, “Well, have you ever done anything good, anything totally unselfish and altruistic in your entire life?” “Well,” says the accountant, “Once I saw this pretty lady being beaten up and about to be raped by a bunch of bikers. So I yelled “Hey jerks, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size” and I then kicked all their hogs over, all six of em, and took off running. They forgot about her for a second and she managed to run also.
Saint Peter asks, “I’m looking through the book of your life, and I don’t see this incident recorded. When did it occur?”
The accountant replies, “About five minutes ago.”
An accountant leaves a letter for his wife one Friday evening. It reads:
“Dear Wife. This week I turned 54. I am going away for the weekend. I will be staying at the Hilton with my gorgeous, sexy, 18-year-old secretary.”
When he arrives at the hotel there is a letter waiting for him. It is from his wife. It reads:
“Dear Husband. I too am 54. I too am going away for the weekend. I will be staying at the Sheraton with my handsome and virile 18-year-old toy boy. You’re an accountant. You’ll appreciate that 18 goes into 54 many more times than 54 goes into 18.”
An accountant dies and goes to Heaven. He is met by St Peter who goes through the usual questionnaire.
“What sort of accountant are you?” says St Peter
“Public Practitioner,” is the reply.
“Name?”
He gives his name. St Peter goes through some files and pulls one out.
“Oh, yes. We’ve been expecting you. You’ve reached your allotted span,” says St Peter.
“How can that be?” says the accountant. “I’m too young to go. I’m only forty-eight”
“No, that’s impossible. ”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well we’ve been looking at your time sheets and the hours you’ve charged your clients. By our reckoning you’re at least ninety three.”
Mr. Evans was the Chief Accountant of a large manufacturing concern. Every day, on arriving at work, he would unlock the bottom drawer of his desk, peer at something inside, then close and lock the drawer. He had done this for 25 years. The entire staff was intrigued but no-one was game to ask him what was in the drawer. Finally the time came for Mr. Evans to retire. There was a farewell party with speeches and a presentation. As soon as Mr. Evans had left the building some of the staff rushed into his office, unlocked the bottom drawer and peered in. Taped to the bottom of the drawer was a sheet of paper. It read, “The debit side is the one nearest the window.”
A local restaurant was so sure its massive Sumo chef was the strongest man around, they had a standing $1,000.00 offer that the chef would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass and then hand the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze just one more drop of juice out of the lemon would walk away with the money. Many people had tried, including weight lifters and longshoremen, but nobody could do it.
One day a scrawny little man wearing thick glasses and a polyester suit came in and said in a tiny squeaky voice, “I’d like to try it”. After the laughter had died down the chef said ,”OK”. He grabbed a lemon and squeezed away. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man. The crowd’s laughter turned to total silence as the man clenched his fist around the lemon and one by one 6 drops fell into the glass.
As the crowd erupted into cheering, the chef paid the $1,000.00 and asked, “What do you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, a builder’s laborer or what?”
He adjusted his glasses on his nose and said, “I work for the Tax Department”.
A young accountant, straight out of school, applies for a job advertised in the Sydney Morning Herald. He is interviewed by the owner of a small business who has built it up from scratch.
“I need someone with an accounting degree,” says the man, “but mainly I’m looking for someone to do my worrying for me.”
“How do you mean?” says the accountant.
“I have lots of things to worry about, but I want someone else to worry about money matters.”
“OK,” says the accountant. “How much are you offering?”
“You can start on seventy-five thousand,” says the owner.
“Seventy-five thousand dollars. How can a business like this afford to pay so much?”
“That,” says the man, “is your first worry.”
An accountant applies for the position of Chief Financial Officer. There are a number of candidates and he is called in for an interview. They ask him a number of questions and one of the panel suddenly says “What is nine multiplied by four?”
He thinks quickly and says “Thirty five.” When the interview is over he goes outside, takes out his calculator and finds the correct answer is not thirty five. He thinks “Well, I blew that” and goes home very disappointed.
Next day he is rung up and told he has got the job. “Wonderful,” he says, “but what about nine multiplied by four? My answer wasn’t right.”
“We know, but of all the candidates you came the closest.”
