In Which I Grind Our Tenants By Proxy. ;)

Whenever the end of the current month and the beginning of the new month arrives, I inwardly cringe and brace myself for the impending rumpus it always brings. The sense of dread and pulling back that ever occupies the flipping of the calendar page is now a familiar, if not exactly welcome, sensation. What is it that causes this discomfort? You might well ask. And I will answer you with a pained grimace, "Billing."
Oh, what potency is entangled in that simple word, if it can be only one word! It ought to have at least eight syllables for all the woe it betides. You see, it is my peculiar and distinguished "honor" to get to grind our debtor. ;) Actually, as office manager for our business, it is one of my signature duties to round up people who owe us and bill them for the work we have performed the previous month. It is not the actual sending of the bills that bothers me...it is when there has been a misunderstanding, a question, or something else that requires a Phone Call. You see, phones and I just don't get along. There is nothing more toxic, or deadly, than the words: "And call so-and-so to see about that bill." *shivers at thought*. Those are the times I have a suspicion I'm a coward. I avoid it like the plague. I'll write a dozen emails, even send a letter, but please, please don't ask me to talk to the people on the phone.
More often than not they have a thick accent that is hardly decipherable. Or it sounds like they are in a tin room full of dump-trucks revving their engines. Or they have overly-protective secretaries who dislike money-hunters...though I can't say I blame them.
And that's where my qualms lie. You see, I desperately don't walk to talk to them, and I know they don't want to talk to me. I'm only asking them for money they possibly don't have at the moment. Sure a work-man is worthy of his wages, but, to quote Mrs. Micawber from David Copperfield:

"Blood cannot be obtained from a stone, neither can anything on account be obtained from Mr. Micawber, at present."

See? I know we often feel the same way when a creditor calls us, so I do not relish the task of playing the tax-collector. I guess though, I need to get used to it. I shall be called upon to perform such distasteful tasks all my life, I think. I should just get over trying to be so polite. Nevertheless, I can't help feeling like poor Mr. Pancks from Little Dorrit who grinds Mr. Casby's tenants by proxy, though he's a good fellow himself.

Sing ho for the life of an Office Manager! ;)