Down Wit H-Dog - By Mikey Fiend

Very few people get to experience the on-the-edge lifestyle of an Accounts Receivable Supervisor. Herbert Kornfeld lives this life every day. It's not an easy life, but "tha H-Dog" worked his way up from the streets to be come the Mack Daddy Enforcer of the Accounts Receivable Department at Midstate Office Supply.

H-Dog got his start hangin' with his homies in the Future Business Leaders of America while in high school. They were normal teenagers and got into your average mischief, like stealing paper clips and gummed index tabs from the local office supply store. Even then, he knew his future was in the office world. Being cocky and unfocused, H-Dog often skipped class to hang with his homies and drink 40s in the parking lot of the biggest accounting firm in town. He noticed the accountants and thought about the abundance of women and money the accounting profession commands. It was then that he decided to get an accounting degree and persue this dream.
Later that same day, tragedy struck when Herbert was suspended from school for knockin' boots with a girl from the A.V. Club. The new, motivated H-Dog refused to accept the suspension, gave the principal the one-fingered salute, and quit school. His mother did not support his decision and he found himself homeless. Life on the streets isn't easy for an aspiring accountant. Luckily, H-Dog ran into an old friend that introduced him to a freestyle accountant, CPA-ONE. CPA-ONE was wanted by the police for performing uncertified accounting. But his skills were in demand and all the companies in town used him to do their books anyway. H-Dog joined CPA-ONE's posse of freestyle accountants and they became the best of friends.

Over the next year, H-Dog learned how to balance spreadsheets, reconcile ledgers and troubleshoot variations. He also became highly skilled with the Letter Opener of Death. This came in handy when the group had scuffles with rival accounting gangs. Turf wars were very common and only the toughest survived. Life was hard, but H-Dog still looks back at these days as his happiest.
However, the good times didn't last. One night, CPA-ONE and H-Dog met a couple of ladies under the promise of sex for accounting services rendered. The women turned out to be undercover police, and they duo was charged with a third-degree white-collar crime. CPA-ONE was sentenced to three years and Herbert was sent to juvenile hall. CPA-ONE was killed in prison shortly afterward, and H-Dog found himself alone again.

On his 18 birthday, Herbert Kornfeld was release from juvenile hall, got his GED and went out in search of a job. Midstate Office Supply took a chance on the freestyle accountant, despite his checkered past. They even paid his tuition at Eastech Business & Technical College, where H-Dog got his Associates Degree in accounting. Ten years later we find H-Dog putting his mad skills to work supervising the Accounts Receivable department for Midstate.

TooSquare: What's your idea of paradise?

H-Dog: I'd say it'd be three things: customas payin' they accountz on time without me having to go all Walkin' Tall on they ass; a endless supply o' Nutrageous barz in tha break-room vendin' machine; an' last but not least, a seven-day work week wit' no muthafukkin' dayz off to fuck wit' mah flow.

TS: A seven day work week?

H-Dog: Tha H-Dog's life be all bidness. Weekendz an' holidayz just ain't mah thang, know what I'm sayin'? When I ain't officin', it's like I get all unbalanced. Yo, tha only holiday tha H-Dog observe is tha annual CPA convention at tha Ramada Inn Northeast. Fuck all that Santa Claus an' Easta Bunny shit. Them holidayz be foe tha shorties, not foe no HARD BANGAS like myself. Tha only good thang I can say 'bout havin' time off is that it afford me tha opportunity to spend Q.T. wit' mah shortie.

TS: You have a child?

H-Dog: Straight up! This beeyotch from the Cash Room, Agnes, had mah shortie some time back. His name is Baby Prince H. Tha Stone Col' Dopest Biz-ook-kizeepin' Muthafukkin' Badass Supastar Kornfeld Tha Second, but his whack-ass beeyotch mothah calls him Tanner.

TS: What do you do in your spare time?
H-Dog: I writes a dope column for this rag called The Onion. I am tha shit. Peep it at www.theonion.com.

TS: Tell us about the Letter Opener of Death.

H-Dog: Yo, that's mah piece. When ah need to do some crazy kung fu shit on some punk-ass accountz payabo suckah, ah call on the Letter Opener of Death. Like tha time that muthafucka, Ted Wegerle from Tech Support, went behind mah back and upgraded mah Lotus software. Ah grabbed tha Letter Opener of Death and went down to deal with Wegerle and the west-wing tech support whack bitches.

TS: Do you miss CPA-ONE?

H-Dog: They ain't no place I rather be than Midstate, and I ain't never gonna leave, word to that. But I ain't never gonna compromise my street flava, to honor my man CPA-ONE, who teached me all tha accountin' skeelz I know. I love you, bruthah. Keep ya head up, and I'll see you at tha crossroads one day

TS: How did he die?

H-Dog: He wuz killed at tha minimum-security pen by a fellow inmate who aimed a tennis ball-throwin' machine point-blank at him on tha prison tennis court. Ends up, tha muthafucka who did it wuz some accountz-payable bitch who got jailed for extortin' a shitload of dead presidents from tha insurance company he worked for.

TS: What does it take to work in Accounts Receivable?

H-Dog: Not only do you gots to be a playa, you can't be frontin' neither, pretendin' you gots basic office skeelz when you don't. Know what I'm sayin'? It ain't just about bein' a supastar and gettin' tha benjamins and tha dope-ass split-pea soup them cafeteria bitches downstairs make. It be about skeelz. It be about HONOR.

TS: Anything you'd care to discuss?

H-Dog: Yo, I out. I gots A.R. bidness to attend to, know what I'm sayin'?