SAN FRANCISCO, Calif. - When they put me on the 13th floor of the Renaissance Parc here, I didn't think about the number of the floor, or the earthquakes we've been having, all I wanted was a good view.
Well, I didn't get a great view, but I can see the Transamerica Pyramid and craning my neck the other way, I can see a sliver of San Francisco Bay.
But what does that matter? I'm spending most of the day locked in small window-less rooms with CPAs, listening to them yack about tax shelters.
It's not as bad as it sounds, actually. I discovered that a lot of these folks are really pretty lively, not at all like the stereotypes. But they are precise. At the morning session, there were no stragglers coming in late. And at break, they all looked at the clock simultaneously and stood up.
Just doing things by the numbers, I guess.
And it's already time to go to the next delicious luncheon with the head of the IRS as our speaker.
The life of the journalist. On to the rubber chicken and tapioca dessert.
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