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 uring
one of our recent morning exercise walks, my wife related
a story of one of her patients. My wife is a psychotherapist
and deals with an assortment of young women with many syndromes
and complexes much of which is beyond the understanding
of a mere accountant like myself. My profession has a more
exact nature, numbers having values, not generally speaking
a social science.
But this female patient whose identity was never disclosed was having difficulties in individuation and in separating. “From what,” I inquired? Trying to sound interestingly knowledgeable, while being little of either. “Oh, a whole host of things,” was the reply, “childhood fantasy, parental domination,׆ she ran a list by me so fast that I was embarrassed at my lack of understanding of this poor woman's dilemma. As the walk ended and so too our discussion (I did most of the listening, she the talking), my wife made some remark that “I could now get back to my debits and credits.” Condescending? Maybe!
This got me to thinking about a most serious situation which is fast reaching crisis proportions in the accounting field, but which is largely ignored, spoken of in hushed tones at professional seminars, and I imagine has not yet been referred to anyone in the therapeutic community. I am referring of course to the inability, despite its desperate desire, of the balance sheet to separate itself from the income statement and to individuate and take its place free of its long-time associate.
The balance sheet in its heyday once held preference and was considered the more important of the two, but over the past three decades the income statement, with its accursed “bottom line,” has taken prominence, resulting in a severe inferiority complex taking hold in the balance sheet. It is indeed ironic that this time-honored instrument from which the reader could determine an entities' net worth developed no self worth. Pity!
Now, it is good to see the balance sheet, organizing itself in the umbrella organization WCSA (We Can Stand Alone) and its sister organization WDNFE (We Don't Need Footnotes Either), gaining momentum toward its goal. They, as well as I, believe there are many worthwhile balance sheets to be read and appreciated without having to pore over the income statement or those infernal notes that have accompanied them for so long. So a tip of the proverbial audit pad goes out to this heroic compilation of assets and liabilities both current and long term for asserting its independence at last, and for having the courage to separate when so much around it is joining.
Another equally unsettling development in the tax area has caused a proliferation of bumper stickers “Free the C” and “If the Cheese Can So Can C.” This of course refers to the growing movement of the schedule C to leave the Federal Form 1040 and strike out on its own.
It all started innocently enough when strong objections arose among C's to be attached to State Tax Returns as supporting documentation. They felt demeaned, and if you will, unloved, somewhat second class. It was not long thereafter that the more radical wing of C'ers moved to demand full individuation, detachment from the U.S. Federal Income Tax Return.
The movement can trace its origins to the original protestations at being labeled with the letter C (a grade barely passing in academia) in the original revenue bill. It meant, here was a mediocre schedule at best. It looked at Schedules A and B with envy. Severe schedule rivalry ensued. Also the C found itself smack in the middle between A, C, and D, E, F securely stapled to the 1040. These symptoms of middle schedule syndrome led directly to the current rebellion against IRS authority.
Most sympathetic practitioners, myself included, are in support of C's efforts and have been mailing the Schedule C in separately to the IRS. Let them attach 'em. Is it professionally acceptable to feel empathy toward a tax schedule? I must mention this next time I take a walk with my wife.
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