I have friends who are having issues with the IRS. One of them is an accountant who has dealt with many agents and found them to be, by and large, professionals who just want to get the job done and move on. But this guy she called Mr. Tidy Neat while describing his limitations to me on the phone.
I envisioned a tight ass little prissy wick trimmer. One whose desk is just so, scissors perfectly parallel to stapler. Probably a green visor and a mouth in a moue like a chicken’s butt.
It was well into the conversation before I realized she wasn’t saying Mr. Tidy Neat. She was saying Mr. Tiny Meat.
My image probably doesn’t need much adjustment although my hearing might. And her attitude certainly does.
lol.
btw- picked up Fun House Chronicles. looking forward to the long weekend to read it!