I feel the need to discuss someone who does us a great service year after year. I have twittered about him and I may have mentioned him once before here. He’s a very nice man and Devoted Spouse and I have known him for probably 4 or 5 years now. His name is Elliot and he is an Accountant.
Every year Elliot does our taxes and every year I say I’m going to find a new accountant. Why you ask? Because Elliot is the most disorganized mess of a person I have ever seen in my life. His office makes my crap room look like something out of Architectural Digest or at least Better Homes and Gardens. To walk into his office is to hope to yourself that your medical insurance premiums are paid up because it is like walking into a mine field…a mine field of books, papers, folders, boxes, and crap….crap everywhere. Elliot is the Indiana Jones of Accountancy — heaven only knows what discoveries are yet to be found in his office. You can’t find his desk. He has a small table which is usually full and three chairs, two of which you just know he has swiped off paperwork, or yesterday’s lunch, prior to your arrival. And where are the filing cabinets, hmmm Elliot?
Nice, harried, busy, over-worked, nervous but oh-so-friendly Elliot. He does a good job on the taxes. Every year it is the same thing. We go in well-prepared, organized, with every scrap of paper separated in an accordian file and all of it is divided by various subjects with final numbers highlighted in yellow and associated paperwork clipped together — all to make Elliot’s job a little easier. I swear to you I have never taken in a shoe-box of receipts in my life – although I have filed that way in the past and then spent days and days sorting and arranging so Elliot would have something neat and orderly from which to work. The easier it is for him to understand our paperwork, the quicker and more efficient he is with doing our taxes. That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.
So it’s getting close to April 15…have I heard from Elliot that the taxes are ready? No. I recall we signed the form that said they could go electronically but he still should have called me by now to let me know to come in and pay him. I wait…I wait…I wait a little longer. Finally I make a phone call to Elliot. I get his answering machine with a bizarre voicemail message on it about his being busy. Well duh — it’s tax time, you better be busy…busy getting OUR taxes done.
Friday on our phone was the oddest message from Elliot. Now our voicemail is generic – I never got around to recording a message on the landline because frankly I don’t feel like it. Usually only telemarketers or people I don’t want to talk to anyway use that number. But I had called Elliot from that number and left him an explicit message citing my name AND phone number and requesting he call me. The message he left was simply ludicrous…it started with this voice identifying himself and stating that he didn’t know whose machine he was talking to…was this Mrs. Dean? He didn’t know whose machine he was talking to?! Did he not write it down when he went to call?! Hello??
I went ballistic. Who the pluperfectcrapola is Mrs. Dean? Beats the everlovin’ crap outta me – that’s not my name. So I called again. And once again I got the odd voicemail message. I left a very slowly-spoken and perfectly enunciated message stating my name and phone number and WOULD HE PLS CALL ME???!!! Okay, I got a little snarky…just a tad…I might have mentioned the fact I couldn’t understand what the heck his problem was that he didn’t know who was calling him. Or something to that effect. Yikes.
Five minutes later I get a call from Elliot — he goes on and on about not knowing who he was talking to because our voicemail has a generic message on it. Well it doesn’t take a degree in rocket science to be looking at a piece of paper he could have used to jot down the message I left and included my name and number and I explained that to him. He said he was too busy. Huh? I was simply dumbfounded. Elliot was beginning to remind me of a character on The Big Bang Theory and that was truly making me nervous. We agreed I would come to his office on Saturday.
Saturday I walk into his office and dodge the various piles of detritus everywhere. He hunts and searches and comes up with a pile of papers purporting to be our taxes. I remember about the electronic filing – assuming he has already done so and discover that he will electronically file as soon as I write out his payment check. Oh ye of little faith. I whip out my handy dandy checkbook, write a check for an enormous amount of money and Elliot goes over to his computer. Now I am sitting on the other side of the room at the time. I cannot see Elliot’s computer. He hits a few keys and shouts victoriously, “Done!” Well, crap on a crutch he could have just reached the 175th level of Super Mario for all I know. He claims, however, he just filed our taxes.
I don’t know….I looked over the paperwork when I got home and it looks okay, but I’m still thinking it may be time for a new accountant on account of this one is driving me batty… I have this insane urge to go back and check all his math and I so don’t want to go there…sigh.