I love my accountant. I know that may be an odd thing to say, but I love my accountant. He has been our CPA and financial advisor for more than 15 years and has saved me many tens of thousands of dollars. All totally legally. We went through three previous CPAs to find him; he was recommended by a bookkeeper we had for our dailies business. Once we found Al, we never looked back. He revamped our business structure and even though we had much the same revenue, we kept far, far more of it. That is the true measure of success – it’s not how much money you make, it’s how much you keep.
His office is in a building at the head of the Sunset Strip just east of Beverly Hills. I visit him once a year to meet with him about our taxes. I spend an hour in his office while he looks over the pile of documents I have collected. His fingers fly over his calculator, he makes hasty, cryptic notes on his pile of documents and ten minutes later, he gives me the good news. It’s always good news. The rest of the time, we visit, talk about future financial matters. You know, schmooze. Then he gives me even better news, he validates my parking. I head down to the garage to collect my car from the complimentary valet, feed my little collection of magnetic cards into the parcoa gate and I’m on my way home. Not sure what the little statues mean, but I know what the chairs are for.
The Waiting Room Project 