The CPA – Part III – First Impressions

First impressions are so funny, we put so much weight on first impressions, but what do they really show? Wife #1 thought that her boss was a very nice lady from her first impression of her, of course Wife #1 ended up getting fired by her so that a friend of the CEO could get hired, making the boss look good in the CEO’s eyes.

I might have remarked that I hated the CPA, how is that for a first impression. Now it wasn’t a true first impression, but that is what I thought of him after a short period of time of working with him.

I can’t think of someone else of whom my opinion changed so dramatically in such a short period of time. Of course things were going better at work. I think of boot camp and how the would-be soldiers get treated like garbage, yelled out on a routine basis, and told what scum they are for the slightest error. While this isn’t the nicest treatment it does not allow room for laxness. It makes the soldiers realize that perfection can be attained, that a mistake is not just a part of life and that errors are a big deal, no matter how small they might appear.

Before I worked for the CPA I thought that I made few mistakes, after four months with him I KNEW I didn’t make mistakes. I’m not suggesting this as a management style, but I learned very well how to double-check my work, fear of being screamed at is a pretty good motivator. I learned how to think for myself, how to resolve issues myself, and how to deduce things from the information laid in front of me, rather than just guessing.

One of the best things is to be able to say, with full assurance, that the error on the tax form was not your error, but the client’s, and having your boss believe you. Of course the evidence will prove you right, but that fact that you were not worried that you were at fault because you KNOW that you would not have made that mistake is a great thing.

Not to say that I don’t make mistakes though. I remember one time after the CPA was angry due to an error I had made that I asked him who yelled at him when he made a mistake.

“Myself!” He said. I didn’t believe him then, but now when I make errors and I know that there is no one who will scream at me I do a pretty good job of it myself too.

All this is to say that the yelling had died down and the CPA was overall pleased with the work that I did by the time July 2003 rolled around.

Most of his non-tax time clients were small Greek restaurants for whom we did the sales tax and payroll tax forms for. They were always last minute since the restaurants would get us the information on the 19th or 20th. The forms had to be postmarked by the 20th to avoid being late, unless the 20th was on the weekend then they had to be postmarked on the Monday after. So I generally drove around Erie gathering the sales information on the 19th and 20th, or later if the 20th was on the weekend, and then dropped off the forms later in the day. The restaurant owners never seemed to be able to get the information to us sooner, and we were always pretty sure that the numbers we were given were made up, but that wasn’t our responsibility.

On July 19th 2003 my mother died. The 19th was a Saturday, the 20th was on a Sunday and sales tax forms were due on the 21st. Of course the restaurant owners didn’t have their sales tax forms done because they were waiting for the last second as always. The CPA was out of the office on the 21st visiting an out of town client. I called the office, his house, and his fiancé’s home, but didn’t catch him before he left.

I called Dan the Man from Downstairs (the CPA’s cousin who rented the downstairs part of the office). For some reason that day he had read the obituaries, even though he rarely did. I told him if John called to tell him that I wasn’t coming in. I knew sales tax was due, but I really didn’t care. I had no sympathy for people who waited till the last second every month and left no time to spare if something went wrong, but I wanted the CPA to know why I wasn’t there.

He called me later, told me that I was right to stay home and that I wasn’t to come in for the rest of the week. He even asked when the funeral was so that he could attend. He genuinely cared about me. I wasn’t just an “asset” as some companies think of their employees, but a person who had just lost his mother.

When I spoke at the funeral I broke down crying. I am not one to show emotions in public, but I knew that it was ok. If I didn’t show my grief at that point, if I didn’t let it out, I knew it would fester and who knew what would happen. The church was packed with people, people were standing in the back since all of the pews were filled, people were standing on the stairs heading into the basement since the entrance was filled with people, but I saw the CPA there. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, but I called him later at home and left him a message letting him know how much it meant to me that he had been there.

The day I returned to work he told me that it had been good that I had let out my grief. It had taken him eleven years before he finally had cried about his father dying. Some of his clients were mad that no one had done their sales tax, but the CPA didn’t care. The thought that I should have come in to work on that Monday never crossed his mind. He didn’t regard that as a lack of responsibility. There are things that are more important than work, even when the life of his small accounting firm is at stake.

When Carrie’s back grew worse, he never complained about me leaving early to take care of her, in fact he told me it was the right thing to do. Deep beneath that gruff exterior, there was actually a good man inside. Very deep, very, very, very deep.

Sidenote: This post was created and posted using Blogger for Word I highly recommend it.


Fritz