545. DESI GIRL AND THE NY DMV

“Hello, Daniel,” I say when the phone rings and I pick-up. “How do you know it is me?” he asks. I hear honking and voices screaming in the background and presume that he is on the sidewalk, walking to the office, or going to a client meeting, or however else an entrepreneur who has seven projects going on at all times, spends his day. “Caller id,” I reply. “I see,” he says. I hope he does not think I answer the phone like this, because I don’t. I simply find it more efficient to cut to the chase when I know it’s him.

In the few weeks I have worked for Daniel, I have learned that he gives no direction, which is fine.  I’m a quick study and can generally figure things out. There is also an absent minded professor element to Daniel, which is why I think he is disorganized. But I’m okay with this, too. My immediate reaction to chaos is to organize it.

“How much money is in the accounts,” he asks. Every morning I log onto the internet and print out the bank statements, highlight the outstanding monies and cross out what cleared. I then summarize the accounts and tell him the total monies available. Then he tells me to call the bank and ask them to transfer it around between the accounts. None of this is remotely mathematical or financial or within my skill set. But someone stole Daniel’s identity and now he (though his agent, me) monitors his credit score and all of his dollars with the vengeance of a left lane vigilante.

“Hhhmm. I need you to call Jack and then Sam. Find out where their payments are. And then I need you to change my residence with the DMV. I want my cars to show the Hampton house not the apartment in the City,” Daniel says and hangs up.

Okay. First, who are Jack and Sam? Are they a couple? Gay? Straight? Two clients? What are their last names? And two, ugga-bugga. DMV?  I have not changed my Minnesota driver’s license to New York because I have spent the better part of four years avoiding government agencies. This should be fun…