Earlier this year, I moderated a panel for the
New York State Society of CPAs regarding the often-polarizing subject of
non-CPA ownership in the Empire State, which remains one of the few holdouts
that prohibits any ownership of accounting firms by those without the CPA
For those residing outside the borders of New
York, that ongoing debate carries roughly the same Big Apple opponent-proponent
ratio and intensity as which New York institution serves a better oversized
pastrami sandwich – the Stage or the Carnegie Deli – two New York City
A number of years ago, I attended a conference where the keynote speaker was futurist and author Alvin Toffler, whose ground-breaking 1970 tome “Future Shock,” chronicled the rapid acceleration of structural changes in society, specifically how America was evolving from industrial to “super-industrial." He threw out to attendees several then-unfamiliar terms (at least to yours truly) such as "digital revolution" and "knowledge workers."
Throughout my career, particularly the nearly quarter-century I spent as a journalist, I estimate that I attended roughly 200 conventions and conferences throughout the country with conservatively about 30 of those held in Las Vegas.
And in 199 of them, I’ve never had an auditor from the accounts payable department question anything on my expense report. The only item I ever got declined was, believe it or not, an $8 pack of sinus tablets, purchased in desperation during a three-day stay in New Orleans where both the temperature and humidity flirted with triple digits as only The Big Easy can, and I felt like I was inhaling hay by the baleful.
No doubt most of you remember the feeling when you held your first-ever paycheck in your hands. You rushed down to the bank to either add to your fledgling savings account, or to cash it and splurge on some totally unnecessary item in celebration that you were now officially part of the workforce.
As the end of another tax season winds down, countless filers who may have, um, “embellished” on some deductions, hold their collective breaths that they won’t receive a letter inviting them down to the local IRS office for a chat.
My family has never been what could be termed, lucky, at games of chance or, for that matter, taking a chance.
For example, my grandfather took Germany and 7 points in World War II and my father passed on an opportunity to acquire 500 acres of desert property in the mid-1950s claiming “no one would ever want to live in this place.”
“This place” as it turned out, was Scottsdale, Arizona,