Harry Hassock, Dade County’s newly appointed Curator of Fine Furniture, was steamed. “Why do you people keep picking on us?” he screeched, waving the newspaper. I could barely see the man over his teakwood desk, which was nine feet high and tastefully trimmed with polished emeralds. “Mr. Hassock, we’re not picking on anyone,” I shouted up to him. “It’s just that the taxpayers are getting upset. They see Mr. Pereira running all over town preaching for a sales tax hike and warning that Metro is going broke. It’s hard to take him too seriously after he spends $9,000 on a sofa.” “The man needs a place to nap!” Harry said, peremptorily. “But for that kind of money you could feed and house a homeless child for a year.” Harry Hassock winced. “Please, we’re talking leather here. The finest leather from the finest cows in Argentina. And get your notebook off of therethat’s a $9,999 coffee table!” In exasperation I said, “One more time, explain to me why Sergio needed to buy an expensive round desk instead of keeping Merrett’s expensive rectangular one.”
