An accountant dies and goes to heaven (no, that's not the joke).
St. Peter, of course, is there, looking through the files and asking a few quick questions.
"What sort of accountant were you?"
"Oh, I was a CPA", was the reply.
"Name?" asks St. Pete.
The accountant gives his name and St. Peter finds his file.
"Oh yes, we've been expecting you. You've reached your allotted time span."
The accountant says, "I don't get it. How can that be? I'm only 48 years old."
Pete looks again at the file and says, "Well, that's impossible."
"Why do you say that?" asks the accountant.
"Well," says St. Peter, "we've been looking over your time sheets and the hours you've charged your clients. By our reckoning, you must be at least 93 years old!"
St. Peter, of course, is there, looking through the files and asking a few quick questions.
"What sort of accountant were you?"
"Oh, I was a CPA", was the reply.
"Name?" asks St. Pete.
The accountant gives his name and St. Peter finds his file.
"Oh yes, we've been expecting you. You've reached your allotted time span."
The accountant says, "I don't get it. How can that be? I'm only 48 years old."
Pete looks again at the file and says, "Well, that's impossible."
"Why do you say that?" asks the accountant.
"Well," says St. Peter, "we've been looking over your time sheets and the hours you've charged your clients. By our reckoning, you must be at least 93 years old!"
