State Street Goon Squad

          Today, I drafted a memo to Jeremy regarding the filing situation in our office. Our closed files have filled two huge filing cabinets, three long boxes and a sizable pile, and there are more on the way. He asked me for advice regarding storage; I replied with a variety of recommendations, beginning with "don't buy more boxes" and ending with "scan all the things." Thus begins a huge project I will no doubt pass on to my successor: the drastic reduction of how much paper we have sitting around. I will become one with the scanner. Unfortunately, Jeremy handed me another task which will be much stickier. We've received a letter from the IRS noting a discrepancy in our 941s (quarterly employer tax records) and W2s for 2011, and I've been delegated to do some forensic accounting and figure out what's up with the paperwork. This is already looking complicated, since Jeremy had 4 employees at various times during the year (one for only the first quarter, one for the first three of four quarters, one for the entire year, and one for quarters three and four.) The 941s, which show a lower number, are corroborated by our detailed quarterly employee wage reports; the W2s are corroborated by a mysterious paper that lists the yearly pay for each employee. What's really mystifying is that the quarterly reports and the mysterious wage sheet don't contradict one another, and I can't get my head around how to figure out the mistake. Aside: Jeremy has called me Jeff a few times, apparently confusing me with a former assistant by that name, who he describes as "an easygoing Red Sox fan." Close enough, I suppose?
          Oh, and one more occurrence at work. As I mentioned, Adam is a lawyer who comes in sometimes to check his mail and meet with clients, and peculiarly resembles Moby. He was occupying the conference room while I was going through the files stored in there, and I was doing my best to stay out of the way. So, naturally, what do I say to this bald-ass, chrome-domed, Moby-looking mofo? "I just need one more thing and I'll be out of your hair." I feel like I just said, "You too!" to the guy who shreds the movie tickets and tells you to enjoy the film.
          After work, Iris and I indulged in a few episodes of The Colbert Report, which I always intend to keep up with but never get around to watching. (I do prefer The Daily Show, but Jon Stewart's hiatus and temporarily replacement with the funny-but-less-funny John Oliver is unfortunately timed.) I napped for a time, during which I dreamed that Ian and I went to a record store, where he made things awkward by loudly singing tunes from The Phantom of the Opera. I then dispelled my waking confusion with some fast and loose Left 4 Dead co-op with Katie.
          Quote of the day:
"His name should be Jefferson Goon." - Jeremy, re: [redacted], telling it like it is

"I'll be out of your hair."..."your hair"..."hair"