Accounting 101
By Mark D. Crantz
Much has been written about Laguna Beach’s audit report. Like, where is it? For six years, the report has been turned in late. Many residents think that where there is smoke, there is fire. Everybody but the fire department has looked for the fire. To date, the place hasn’t burned down, but the smoldering is in the air. People smell it. A new audit firm has been hired, and we’ll hear “I told you so” soon from everybody. Or everybody will turn on the tourists for creating the real or unreal material deficiencies in Laguna Beach. Beware day trippers. And you too, Visit Laguna.
There’s a conspiracy theory behind every action. Or, in this case, inaction. But what’s the real story? I went to do some investigating. But first, I had to look the part of the investigative reporter. I put on a trench coat. I rakishly cocked a fedora on my head. I found a notepad and pencil to take down facts. I got a newspaper identification card and holder. I looked in the mirror. I flashed the reporter’s ID. Yep, I had captured the look. Nope, I hadn’t. I forgot to put clothes on under the trench coat. That’s not the look I was after. I got a second opinion, and the police agreed. I got dressed before I put on the trench coat. By then, the newspaper had gone out of business. I needed a new ID. I put in a call to Jeff Bezos to buy a paper I could represent.
Jeff agreed, and I was in business. My first stop was the cold case files at LA’s Comedy Store. This is the place where jokes go to die and nobody knows why. They should have made people laugh, but didn’t. No surprise, I have a lot of my own dead jokes there. It felt like home. Cold, dank and musky. Oh, and no laughter.
I looked through hundreds and hundreds of cold, dusty, dead joke files. Then, I found one that deserved a second look. A large corporation went to hire a chief financial officer. During the interview process, the prospective employer asked, “What is 2+2=? The first dozen prospects answer 4. The thirteenth doesn’t. He answers, “What do you want it to be?” He got the job.
This joke was a good clue. Not too long after, I found another. A large multinational employer hired a CFO with expertise in off shore accounting. He was very good at his job. He transferred corporate funds to offshore banks and saved millions in taxes for the far-flung corporation. In the last year alone, no taxes were due because no revenue was found, including the CFO, who absconded with the taxable revenue. The IRS found the company in good standing. The CFO won the Accountant Pocket Protector Award of the year. He did not attend the award ceremony for unspecified reasons. The new CFO accepted on his behalf and declared, “I accept this wonderful award on my predecessor’s behalf and promise to build on his success. Next year, I promise to have the IRS pay us taxes instead. Turnabout is only fair play.”
The clues were good starts. Every case needs a break or two. I left the LA Comedy Store’s basement for some much-needed fresh air. What I got was LA air instead. I inhaled a lungful while stuck back on the 405. I let the case percolate in my head with the other untraceable chemicals I was breathing. Was the late audits a case of concern or not?
I asked my fellow passenger what he thought of the case and the clues. He was a dummy I used for the HOV lane. He doesn’t say much, but I admire his listening skills. I envied my fellow passenger for not needing the chemicals I was inhaling. If I had his clearheadedness, I would have solved this case by the time I hit 133.
Somewhere in LA’s urban sprawl I was hit with another clue. It was a story I heard about a municipal worker from the Midwest. His name was Sleepy Stu. He earned this nickname from fellow workers. Sleepy Stu never appeared to be in his office. It was always dark. Over the years, his fellow municipal workers could not understand how Sleepy Stu could keep his job without ever being there. Then, one day, as a fellow worker was preparing the fifth birthday celebration of the week, the case of Sleepy Stu was solved. Just as the birthday cake preparer was passing Stu’s office for the kitchen, his office lights went off. She took a closer look. And tada, there was Sleepy Stu fast asleep in his office chair. The motion-detecting lights went off when Sleepy Stu went off to municipal dreamland.
So either there was premeditated funny bookkeeping going on, or it was just a case of innocuous sleep deprivation. It was a tough one. Could be one way or the other. It was like the name itself: “Accounting 101.” Forwards or backward, it was still 101. It appears that accounting is in the hands of the holder and is a questionable art form in the eyes of the beholders. What’s 2+2=, Laguna Beach?
Crantz tells the Indy that he quit the investigative reporter act. There just wasn’t any laughs in it.
