Wordsmith Finds Numbers Crunching None Too Taxing

Did you send your taxes in on time?

I ask this because for the past 10 weeks I’ve been working part-time for an accounting firm.  People close to me will find this hilarious because when it comes to numbers, I’m an idiot savant (minus the savant).  I barely scraped by high school geometry, which was the end of the number line for me.  So the idea of me working in a place dedicated to the art of debits and credits is pretty ludicrous.

Luckily for the clients, I wasn’t actually doing any math other than calculating my work hours and even then I made mistakes.  My duties were strictly limited to answering the phone, scanning tax documents and filing. While I may not have mad math skills, I do have more than forty years of expertise using the phone.  Just ask my kids who constantly interrupt my conversations.    I’m perfectly adept at keeping my voice professional while making angry, threatening gestures towards my children.

Filing proved to be a breeze as well.  If there’s one thing I do know, it’s my ABC’s.  I even managed to stop humming the alphabet song in my head after the first couple of weeks.  If someone quizzed me on the spot, I could tell them that “t” comes after “n” but before “v” in a matter of seconds…well, maybe five seconds. Darn alphabet song!

Scanning proved to be the most fascinating of my duties.  The scanner was a freestanding, fancy-schmancy behemoth the size of the Statue of Liberty, with more bells and whistles than the iPad3.  But what interested me most was the paperwork I was scanning.

We all know the three things people don’t discuss (out loud) are religion, politics and finances.  10 weeks of scanning people’s W-2 forms, property tax statements, investment statements and charitable receipts painted an intimate look at each person’s life.  Some clients provided paperwork that revealed jaw-dropping amounts of income, while others made me wonder just how they make ends meet.  The slips of paper and receipts we provide to our accountants equal more than just what we owe to the federal government.  They illuminate who lost a spouse within the last year, whose children are caring for their elderly parents, who gambles way too much and who is lucky enough to enjoy a vacation home.  The two types of paperwork that disturbed me most were death certificates and college tuition statements.  The death certificate shows who died, time of death and cause of death, but they also prompted me to wonder about how that person lived, what they accomplished and whom they left behind.

The tuition forms were even more sobering.  It’s one thing to hear tuition costs bandied about in the abstract; seeing a printed bill for thousands of dollars from even the most mediocre college was enough to make me consider applying for a lunch-lady job at Harvard for when my oldest son comes of age.

It was also very telling to see how clients present their documents.  Some brought in perfectly organized, singled-sided 8.5 X 11 inch copies of their paperwork, making it easy for me to zip through the scan.  Others brought in a mishmash of every tiny receipt, post-it note and scrap of paper, stapled together, wrapped in rubber bands and dumped into large grocery bags or giant boxes.  One glance at a shopping bag and I’d feel like that character in the Edvard Munch painting, The Scream.  Over the past few weeks I’ve developed an aversion to unusual sized documents, double sided pages and anything stapled.  In that order.

The best part of my 10-week stint was working with the staff.  I love the show “Myth Busters”, so it was a personal pleasure for me to bust the myth of the “boring accountant” stereotype.   People think of accountants as dreary, humorless worker drones who never crack a smile.  I can honestly say that the accountants in my office were some of the funniest, friendliest folks I’ve had the pleasure with which to work.  In addition to their wonderful sense of humor, they have a deep appreciation for the job I performed.  The office managers would thank me sincerely each day when I left for home.  And on my birthday, which comes an inconvenient week before the tax deadline, they stopped work for 10 minutes to sing “Happy Birthday” and serve cake.

To sum up, I’d like to make note of the fact that I give sincere appreciation to my cohorts in currency for adding balance to my life.  I hope that I have been an asset rather than a liability; in short a credit to your business.  I’d be pleased if you didn’t write me off when next year’s tax season rolls around.

Just don’t ask me to add anything.