Beyond the Spreadsheet: The unseen humor in HR and finance roles. Credit: Gemini As a supervisor, I’ve met all sorts of characters, but Xiuping, our Finance Assistant and HR Manager, is a rare gem—a data-driven dynamo with a knack for unintentional comedy. She tackles DHR’s financial and HR challenges with surgical precision and the bluntness of a stand-up comic. And yes, I’m cheering for her well-deserved raise—she’s earned it. The Money Maestro Xiuping’s motto? “Only got time for money and good company.” She cuts through nonsense like a hot knife, asking, “Do I get money for this?” or “I’m glad DOF is happy with us... do we get a bonus for that?” Praise is nice, but she’d prefer it in her paycheck. I’m right there with her, marveling at her stellar work. Her hustle extends beyond the office. “Maybe I’ll buy lotto this weekend too,” she quips, ever cha...

From apologetic accountant to blissfully unbothered with chaos-pink spreadsheets. Go, Lily, go! Credit: Gemini AI The Saintly Lily Every office has one: a soul so pure, so relentlessly kind, you’d swear they glow like a human nightlight. In our Finance unit at DHR, that was our accountant, Lily—until the day the universe ran out of pastel highlighters and her halo flickered. Calling Lily a “living saint” is, frankly, an insult to her saintly bona fides. It’s an understatement so profound it borders on libel. Her integrity as an accountant? Bulletproof. Her willingness to consistently put the needs and well-being of others before her own? Legendary. If you needed a report to, say, prevent the County from accidentally double-paying a vendor who already owed us money back (ahem, our pre-Lily oopsie era), or to catch invoices sketchier than a Craigslist ad? Mind you, not from any proacti...

A frazzled finance manager surrounded by absurd budget proposals, with a dog adding to the chaos. Credit: Gemini The Circus Begins Budget season in my office is less a process and more a three-ring circus where I, the Financial Manager, am part accountant, part lion tamer. I dream of spreadsheets that balance like a perfectly brewed cup of coffee, but instead, I’m dodging requests for a $9,000 “indoor zen waterfall” for the break room or debates over whether $150 pens say “we’re thriving” or “we’re unhinged.” It’s like my dog Sansa took over the budget meetings—adorable chaos, but I’m still cleaning up the mess. Some might see chaos, a fiscal year spiraling into a budgetary black hole lined with disco balls and the echoes of someone’s awful “inspirational” playlist. But me? I see… opportunity. Call me weird, but numbers are my emotional support animals. While the office descends into...

My Day Job: More Than Just Numbers A tidy, efficient digital workspace, typical of a financial manager. Credit: Google AI My day job? It's... an experience. Let me elaborate. A tale of spreadsheets, financial forecasts, and… the surprisingly intense daily dramas of a grown adult who happens to be the person in charge. Now, I'm the Financial Manager here. Numbers are my jam. Budget reconciliations? Bring 'em on. Cash flow statements? My happy place. Explaining the nuances of accrual accounting? Thrilling Tuesday night for me. What I didn’t sign up for was being the unofficial, unpaid, and frankly, slightly bewildered, unofficial babysitter for the main guy. The Escalation of Trivialities It started subtly. A quick “Hey, just wanted to run this email draft by you, see if the tone is okay?” Sure, no problem. Professional cour...

A collection of spreadsheets and charts. Credit: Gemini A Data-Driven Life Let's be clear: I am a creature of data. Numbers soothe my soul. If there's a problem, I'm convinced the answer lies in a well-crafted spreadsheet. My work demands it, of course. Without those glorious grids, the financial world would probably collapse into a gleaming state of confusion. But my love for the cell extends far beyond the office walls, creeping into the hallowed halls of my personal life like a particularly persistent formula error. You see, in my valiant attempt to "manage" this increasingly unmanageable world, I've armed myself with… more spreadsheets. It's a logical extension, right? If data can manage mergers and acquisitions, surely it can tame my chaotic existence. Meetings Under Scrutiny Take meetings, for example. I have a metic...

Sansa, chilling out on a sunny day. Credit: Teresa Quiet Companionship The air felt different, lighter, now that the rain was gone, leaving behind a world that looked fresh and felt clean. I find myself by the window, not actively doing anything, just letting my gaze drift. And there she is, my steadfast shadow, Sansa, watching me with an intensity that always manages to both intrigue and humble me. It's a familiar scene, this quiet companionship. Even during the workday, when I'm here at home and my mind inevitably wanders from spreadsheets to the quiet hum of the refrigerator or a household concern, she’s often nearby, a furry buddy bearing witness to my internal distractions. It's as if she senses the shift in my focus, offering a wordless comfort, a gentle presence that sometimes even sparks unexpected solutions to whatever domestic worry has snagged my thoughts. Thi...

Our sweet and energetic yellow Lab mix, Sansa – the best shadow a person could ask for! Credit: Teresa Sansa, My Constant Companion Having Sansa is like having a furry little shadow that follows me everywhere . This yellow Lab mix is truly my "tail" – wherever I go, she's right there. Most dogs greet you with a happy tail wag, but Sansa acts like even a quick trip to the mailbox is an eternity. She's glued to the window the moment I step out! And when I return, it's not just a tail wag; her entire body wiggles in a joyful celebration that could light up the street. You can only imagine the enthusiastic greeting after a longer absence! No Privacy, No Problem Forget about moving around the house alone! If I get up for a drink, she's suddenly glued to my heels, as if a trip to the kitchen is a grand adventure. Bathroom breaks? No...

Sansa’s Puzzling Eating Habits Ah, the joys of pet ownership! They fill our lives with unconditional love, endless entertainment, and in the case of our Labrador Retriever mix, Sansa, a healthy dose of utter bewilderment. Let me introduce you to Sansa, a creature of perplexing habits and a digestive system that operates on its own bizarre schedule. You see, Sansa has this… interesting relationship with food. Most dogs, bless their eager little hearts, greet mealtime with the enthusiasm of a lottery winner. Not Sansa. She’ll sniff her perfectly good kibble, perhaps give it a disdainful glance, and then proceed to stage a hunger strike that would make Gandhi proud. Days can go by. Days! We start whispering about vet visits and coaxing her with every dog-friendly delicacy we can conjure. Then, BAM! The switch flips. It’s like a tiny internal alarm clock goes off, signaling the end of her self-imposed famine. A...

Sansa's packed and ready for her next adventure! So, we did a thing. We adopted a puppy! Back then, she was a six-month-old bundle of something . When we first got her, she was all legs and ribs, a skinny little question mark. What is she? We wondered. A tiny deer trying out for the long jump? A malnourished kangaroo escaped from the zoo? Turns out, our little mystery mutt, now known as Sansa, is 50% Labrador Retriever (the "please love me" gene, which she definitely inherited!), 25% Husky (the "I will howl at the moon" gene), and 25% German Shepherd (the "I must protect this house from squirrels" gene). Which, in retrospect, explains… everything. Sansa also boasted a magnificent, ridiculously long tail that wagged with the force of a small hurricane. It could clear a coffee table in seconds. And water? Forget about it. This dog was, and ...

Sophie, my co-pilot. Bulldog mix edition. Credit: Teresa The Silence After Sophie A heavy silence now drapes every corner of the house, a stark absence where for years there was the unspoken language of Sophie's joy. Her short tail, more of a full-body wiggle against the furniture than a thump, accompanied the gentle snuffle of her explorations and the surprisingly robust snores that punctuated her contented naps in sunbeams. Now… nothing. Only the hollow echo of our steps in the profound absence of our sweet American bulldog mix and her undeniably loud nighttime breathing. Losing Sophie wasn't just heartbreaking; it was a trauma etched into my very being. She left this world cradled in my arms, her last breaths mingling with my tears. That final moment, filled with a love that transcended words and a grief that felt unbearable, imprinted itself on my soul. The image of her ...