ACCOUNTABLE
The Lighthouse Keeper
BY DANIEL W. DRAKE ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
As the dawn broke over this beautiful Tuesday morning, it only seemed appropriate to go and look for Hawkeye, as he would certainly be out early. By the time I caught up with him, he might have already had breakfast, which would make him less grumpy.

It didn't take me long to find him but I profess to have been surprised at what he was doing when I came upon him. He was standing at the side of the road, holding down a piece of newspaper and apparently reading an ad.

"Good morning, my friend," I said.

Hawkeye looked up at me briefly and then returned to examining the ad, as if I wasn't there.

"It would be nice if everyone read the ads in the paper as carefully as you do," I remarked, a bit miffed that he hadn't said anything at all and was, almost rudely, continuing to stare at the newspaper with one beady eye.

"I would think you would be happy," he finally said. "I fit the demographics pretty well, 'an adult male between the ages of ….' Never mind. You read the paper over breakfast. Why shouldn't I?"

"I think it's great," I replied, "but you know, it's nice not to be totally ignored. Anyway, what is about that ad that has you so captivated?"

"Well," Hawkeye said, "for some time, I have been thinking that it would be nice to get a job. I would have some money, so if I didn't feel like hunting for my supper, I could go to the grocery store and buy something already prepared. You know, the choices are pretty good these days; mole a la king, mice rarebit, rab…."

"Enough," I interrupted. "I am not sure that I can see you sitting at a desk all day."

"Good point," he agreed. "Do you have to sit at a desk to be an accountant?"

"You an accountant?" I asked. "Spare us, please. I would think you would go crazy in very short order. And, yes, you do have to sit at a desk. What in the world possessed you to think you might want to be an accountant?"

"As I said," Hawkeye said, "I heard that the Town of Nantucket might be looking for an accountant or two. It seems that they are in a bit of a bind. So I thought to myself, how do I learn to be become an accountant. Then, this morning, as I was having my breakfast, this piece of newspaper blew by. I grabbed it because I figured I might wrap the garbage in it. I hate it when body parts are left by the side of the road."

I started to speak, wanting to get my friend back on track about becoming an accountant.

"Don't interrupt," Hawkeye said, a bit peevishly. "I am getting to that. I was just setting the scene. As I was starting to unfold the paper, this ad caught my eye."

I did interrupt this time. "My father used to tell how he discovered that a woman he was dating read the old papers before she wrapped the garbage up in them. He couldn't deal. That was the end of the relationship."

"Good thing for you!" Hawkeye snapped. "Now, will you please be quiet and let me continue?"

"Yes," I said, meekly.

"What caught my eye," the bird continued, "was this ad for an accounting school. I especially like the part in the ad that said how much fun it is to be an accountant."

"Fun to be an accountant?" I asked. "The ad said it is fun to be an accountant?"

"Yes, right here." He pointed with one talon to some small print. "I thought to myself this is for me. If I can learn to be an accountant, I will go to work for the town and get all those great benefits. At the same time I would be doing something needed and useful, and having some fun besides."

"My eyesight isn't as good as yours," I said. "Tell me what the ad says about accountants having fun. I haven't known one yet who ever smiled."

"Look, right here; the ad says that accounting is a profession that lets you play with numbers to your heart's content."

"Play with numbers? That's the last thing an accountant should be doing. Playing with numbers is a crime."

"Then," Hawkeye asked, looking quizzical, "if being an accountant means being serious, why does the ad go on to say that being an accountant is like being involved in a continuous game of hide and seek?"

"That," I said, "is what is called a come-on in the ad business. Accountants play hide and auditors play seek. Other than being cut from the same cloth, the twain don't meet."

"That doesn't sound so great, does it? Another bad thing about this school," he went on, "is that it is a correspondence school and you have to pay in advance to register. Will you lend me the money?"

"We'll have to think about this," I replied. "If you are going to be an accountant, you can't act precipitously. I know the town needs help right away and having someone who already lives here would be a great advantage, but I find it hard to believe you would be happy in that kind of job. You would be inside all of the time. You will have to follow a lot of rules. And, you will always have deadlines."

"That sounds awful," Hawkeye said. "The ad made it sound like so much fun."

"Unfortunately," I said, "accountants are necessary to keep the financial affairs of businesses and municipalities in order. If they do their job well, then things are fine. If they are careless or fall behind, however, then things go from bad to worse pretty quickly.

Would you want that responsibility?"

"No," he said, "it doesn't fit my personality to do any of those things. I would rather be wing-loose and fancy free. I can see that there is a need for orderliness and accountability, but that just isn't me. Wrapping up my garbage isn't even the real me."

"Thanks for setting me straight," he called, as he took off into the blue ether. "I do have an idea about what I could do if I ever really want a job."

"What's that?" I yelled.

"Write ads." I

The "Lighthouse Keeper" reflects the views of the author and does not necessarily represent the editorial position of The Nantucket Independent. Comments are welcome and may be sent to drake@nantucketindependent.com.