It’s that time of year again. The Ides of April. Tax Season. By now you’ve all probably been to your accountants, reviewed your financial situations and sent in your signed forms. Or filed for an extension at the very least.
Well, this post is way overdue. I filed its extension sometime in 2004 when I first walked into his office and met my new accountant, Kevin.
At that time, my finances were in shambles due to the triple whammy of a four year nightmare of a trial in domestic relations court- and the debilitating mental and physical issues that had occasioned it in the first place. My old accountant was just that- old. And too preoccupied with a sick wife to effectively come to the aid of this damsel in distress.
I knew that I needed SuperCPA. And call it God or Fate or Divine Intervention, but when I needed the offices of a terrific accountant ASAP, my eye fell on an ad in the telephone book and I just dialed.
It turned out that the firm I had called was the most prestigious on Colorado’s western slope. Honesty and precision were its twin watchwords. But all that was unbeknownst to me. I just took the first available appointment they offered- and prayed.
I dreaded having to go. I was distraught and completely undone by the thought that I was now going to have to share my most personal autobiographical details with a total stranger.
(It occurs to me that, as with our florists, our accountants are always in the loop about the most intimate events in our lives. Along with our lawyers and our shrinks, they know chapter and verse about our latest great business deals, our terrible investments, our newest little “tax deductions,” and all the devastating details and repercussions of the break-ups of our professional and personal partnerships.)
I would like to tell you that at our very first meeting Kevin was the answer to this non-maiden’s prayer. How I can recall in minutest detail how wonderful he was to me and how relieved I felt when he promised to save my ass(ets) from total disaster.
But I can’t. Because I have little recollection of the meeting. And that’s odd because Mr. Memory here can usually tell you what she ate on every April fourteenth for the last twenty years. (And what she was wearing.) But that’s what happens sometimes when one is so thoroughly overwhelmed by trauma and worry.
But I do recall that he was kind and non-judgmental. (And never forget that I hadn’t been referred by anybody and I wasn’t exactly coming in with Bill Gates’ tax implications. Think how you might have responded if a distraught woman suddenly careened into your office?)
My tale of woe may have struck a chord in his very kind heart- at first. But soon, as he went over my tax records and divorce docs, his kindness turned to righteous anger. The numbers never lie and he could clearly see that I had been taken to the cleaners by some very slick folks.
The threat of a libel suit forbids me from saying much more. (And if you are a regular reader of this blog you may have gathered that Cruella, my ex husband’s latest life partner, sues people for a living.) Let us just say that, from that moment to this, Kevin has become my white knight- with a Sharp ten key calculator.
Our relationship has morphed into a close friendship over the years, and I can see how much he cares about providing his clients with the security that financial peace of mind brings. Deftly aided by his lovely assistant Michele, he tirelessly tames the ever-changing tiger of a tax code in order to make all of his clients’ lives more profitable places to be.
And though he demands perfection as a matter of course in his tax returns, these days he has been working like a fiend seven days a week. He wants to insure that his roster is getting the full benefit of his expertise with a deduction so that their estate plans will always be things of beauty. He looks out so they don’t have to.
But he is much more than a numbers cruncher. He’s a devoted son and brother. He loves travel, the Denver Broncos, SNL, movies and poker- and the television show Dallas. (You’ve lost me on that one, K. And you know how hard I tried, pardner.)
Kevin’s mild-mannered bean-counter countenance also hides a quick wit and a keen intelligence. And he’s a sarcastic, snarky obsever of la condition humaine. Best of all, he can always make me laugh. And how many people do you know who can say that after a visit to their accountant? (Every time I saw my former one, I cried.)
He has a million friends. No surprise there. He loves his boat. And he is so modest and unassuming that I’m sure he is mortified that I have dragged him out from behind his desk and into the limelight.
But I wanted you all to meet him. And no, we are not dating and this is not a paid endorsement of his firm. (Although I am always open to a barter arrangement for future accounting services, gentlemen…)
The short form is that I am just crazy about him. And yes, Kev, I have been saving all my receipts from the cabs, and the office supplies and the lunch meetings- just like you told me- for next year’s reckoning.
It’s almost April fifteenth, everybody.
Have you hugged your accountant today?
For some reason this morning, the comments section was temporarily turned off. (Could it be the IRS monitoring me?). All is well again. If you have anything to say, the path is clear. Happy Sunday-and thanks.
I don’t know what to say…except thank you. The final days of tax season have impaired my ability to make a witty and intelligent response, so I need to request an extension to respond. Keeping in mind an extension gives you additional time to file, not to pay, I offer a payment of sincere gratitude and appreciation for your writing. You are one of a kind!
Hey, this is a real good response for someone who has been burning the candles at both ends for weeks. Take all the time you want. I owe you-with interest.
I just don’t get why survey after survey shows accountants and even more so actuaries always scoring so high in job satisfaction. What’s so exciting about crunching out numbers? Maybe it is the stories such as yours behind those numbers. Of course, who am I to talk. I love my job, get paid well, all for putting people to sleep.
Come on, Jimmy! “Stories such as mine.”. When was the last time you read a fan letter to a CPA? When I think of all those novels and tv shows dedicated to handsome, noble, hard-working, self-sacrificing doctors… Try to think of one great book about an accountant? (Well there is The Button-Down mind of Bob Newhart, but that’s an album.)
You guys do alright in every way. (Although if I ever get sick, I won’t be calling Kevin.)
Yes, I see now that I am going to have write a post about gas passers.
Crunching the numbers is merely the details. The satisfaction comes from providing solutions to the problems that keep our clients up at night, and making plans that help them succeed. I’ve heard many times over the years how other professionals envy the relationship accountants have with their clients. Our relationship allows us to see some of the most private details of their lives – tax returns, financial statements, wills, business transactions. They entrust us with their most confidential information and look to us for advice to improve it. After reading a blog entry like this, it’s pretty hard not to see why accounting is a rewarding profession. Putting numbers on a tax return – not too exciting. Making a plan that wins the tax war before the battle – priceless.
See guys? This is why I love this guy. He LOVES what he does and really cares. He is at work right now, btw. Hey, Kevin. Get back to the calculator!
I am not sure my accountant and I ever “win the tax war.”
He just makes losing a little less painful. Nevertheless, can’t argue about all the surveys that show their job satisfaction.
I work with Kevin and actually introduced the two. Match made in an accountants office. Both have enjoyed their relationship over the years as you can tell. There is another side to crunching numbers (there has to be) – building life long relationships and Kevin does everything Ellen writes about on a daily basis. Ellen your blog is a gas.
Thanks for the hook-up and the kind words. Now, can you find me a husband?
For years, one of my Dad’s best friends was a Cpa named Bernie. Bernie was a short heavy set fellow who smoked smelly cigars and always looked like he just got out of bed after a bad night at the bar. Bernie owned a huge accounting firm in Joliet and loved to spend time on his boat on the river when he was not so busy. As a kid, I never knew why in the world he drove a Rambler, but when I grew older finally I learned that Bernie personally did the books for the AMC Agency in Joliet and his fee was a new car every year. Over my earlier years in growing up I learned that having a good Cpa was a godsend. Bernie helped me buy my first house and also kept me out of a bad deal on some car dealings ( no not a Rambler). Bernie is not with us anymore, but I will always remember what an important person he was in my earlier years. I guess this is my tribute to a good Cpa.
I love this. Thanks, Steve. A great reminiscence. I can almost smell the cigar. And I think everyone should send this post (and comments) to their accountants tomorrow. Those guys are super-heroes this time of year.
Great story! Great guy. I’m ready to trade a Cubs game for a boat ride in Colorado!
Thanks, Kenny. Funny you should mention that. I’m with ya’!
Truth be told- I majored in economics in college. Took an accounting course and got so bogged down in LIFO, FIFO, EBITDA, debits and credits, I went into medicine.
Well, accounting’s loss is humanity’s gain. Kenny is still talking about how you saved his bacon re the nerve block thing. We’re both grateful that double-entry bookkeeping threw you a curve.
Sure love the way you write.
It’s Kevin’s birthday today but I got the present! What a nice surprise gift. Thanks, John.
Kevin sounds like a real life Leo Bloom.
He’s a combination Leo Bloom and JR Ewing. I’ll tell him, Mitch. He’ll laugh.
And Kevin sends you flowers! What a guy!!
He does! THE most gorgeous roses. I don’t know how he finds them. They’re the size of cabbages.