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Things were very different at KPMG in the 80s, where I was an undergraduate right out of school. We’d been at the Malaya for lunch and had drunk so many Crown Lagers, that we didn’t actually make it back to the client. We did however make it to the office for the ever-popular, Friday night drinks.
There were two distinct breeds of undergrad’s when I was there. The ones who were really smart, with attention to detail, great with figures and would make excellent financial people. Then there were a couple like me, who just happened to nail the interview and were on their way to becoming the world’s worst accountants.
So, by about 6:00 things were becoming rowdy and we were all getting pissed before we went out to Jackson’s on George or some place similar, when I noticed my young mate Selwyn was still working diligently at his desk.
Now even by auditor standards, Selwyn could only be described as a “nerd”. Ridiculously intelligent, red hair, freckles, pasty skin, skinny as a rake, brown 3-piece suit and thick black glasses. A really nice bloke, but a full, super-shy, no social skills, Revenge Of The Nerds, nerd.
For some reason the rowdy conversation made its way around to the temperature of the sun and I saw an opportunity to make Selwyn… cool.
Me – “I bet Selwyn knows.”
The place erupted with the general consensus being that NOBODY knows the temperature of the sun. Keep in mind this is before Google and Siri, so people just didn’t know that shit.
Me – “SELWYN WILL KNOW. LET’S GO SEE.”
With that, nineteen loudly-inebriated accountants (and one pseudo-trainee-accountant) all walked and stumbled over to his desk. He was surprised, to say the least.
Then, through my 10-12 Crown Lagers I grew a little concerned.
If he knew the sun’s temperature, he was going to be an absolute legend. I was giving him the opportunity to use his brain to become as coolarino as fuck. But it struck me, if he didn’t know, he’s going to be a laughingstock.
After everybody quieted down a bit I began.
“Selwyn, don’t let me down here. Do you happen to know… the temperature of the sun?”
He turned his blank gaze towards me and didn’t say a word!
OH NO. In his brown suit and lanky limbs, he looked like a nerdy deer in the headlights! What had I done?? I’d ruined his KPMG life.
Selwyn (proudly) – “Surface or centre?”
Me – “And there it is!”
BOOYAH. WE ALL BURST INTO CHEERS AND APPLAUSE. A beer was thrust into his hand and Selwyn was forced to leave his desk and join the party.
Selwyn, was now a made man.
Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to claim at parties much to my wife’s chagrin, that I am in fact… a writer. I write stuff for a few small businesses but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out my the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I set up with a few North Shore mates (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers