The Hard Part is Always Saying "Goodbye"
Volume 13, Number 19
Issue 619
When I started what would become one of Chesterfield County's largest accounting firms in 1990, I had a premonition that the hardest part would be watching "old line" clients pass away. I was right. The 2005 tax preparation busy season was the most difficult on me with regard to this I have ever experienced. Will it get any easier, or will it only get worse? It's only going to get worse, as I enter my sixteenth year of sole proprietorship and my client base ages along with me.
Jon N. walked into my office one day in the early 1990s shortly after moving to Midlothian after his family's house was completely destroyed in a Florida Hurricane. He told the story of how he had left on a business trip one Monday and all he had from his residence was what he had taken away in his briefcase. He also said that-aside from the emotion of losing everything-it (the Hurricane) was the best thing that had ever happened because it unified his family and it brought them to beautiful Midlothian. When I said "Goodbye" to Jon during the 2004 busy season after he had picked-up his return, I didn't realize it would be the last time I would ever see him. Cancer quickly claimed him without my knowledge. I found his death certificate in my "in" box one afternoon when his widow dropped off their tax package this past January. I had savored my half hour (plus assorted phone calls) every year with Jon for over ten years. Jon's legacy will be the dozens of clients that he referred to me over the years (and the dozens that they, in turn, referred).
Clyde S. talked to me on the phone in January 2005 the day before he died. In the early years of my service to him, I enjoyed his wit and savvy financial skills. He taught me things. In recent years, though, I noticed Clyde had become disoriented about his affairs and he was unduly temperamental and harsh. Was I the only one who noticed because I only saw him for an hour a year? I think I was. My snapshot of him from the prior year was always a little crisper than he was the following year. Clyde's death certificate arrived with the package of tax information shipped in February by his wife. I was in shock for a few days; I had just talked with him.
Cliff B. was a fun client. I enjoyed his wit and his obvious passion about looking forward to seeing me. He made no secret he loved having me as his CPA. I loved having him as a client. He seemed genuinely glad he was one of my early clients and that I had done his adult daughter's return for free a couple of years when she was in trouble. His information was always complete and he was prompt and appreciative of our time together and my work. Oh, yeah, I got paid, too. When Cliff's wife called-whom I had never met-to set a time to come by to meet with me because "Cliff died," I realized I had lost another one of those perfect target market clients I write about so often.
Cynthia S. loved animals. Each year she would have thousands of dollars of charitable contributions to animal causes. She once had a fundraising party at her beautiful Brandermill home in cooperation with animal rescue charities and invited me and my own Cynthia to come. She had a red tailed hawk there that the Virginia Wildlife Fund had brought to show off. Over the years, Cynthia had become increasingly apprehensive about traveling to my office. For two years, I went to her. In 2004, she forgot I was coming and her husband got involved. Then she died. One of the clients (and there were many) she referred to me told me she had died. When this happens (hearing third-hand too late), I'm never quite sure what to do. At least I was ready for her husband when he called.
Max H. was with Admiral Byrd at the North Pole. He held the title of "My Oldest Client." Though not one of my nicest clients, per se, he was always one who came to me not because he couldn't do it himself, but because he wanted to do it even better and knew he needed an extra push to get to the next level. I, frankly, enjoyed the honor and the challenge of working with him. He always taught me things and gave me a perspective about life that comes through time. His last two years he had trouble getting up my steps (but he made it) and he wanted a "drive-by" pickup. Though I wasn't surprised he died, I was saddened. I've enjoyed working with his son to conclude Max's affairs, but it's just not the same.
As I found out one-by-one I wouldn't be seeing these people (while working 20 hour days for 90 days straight), their absence started to change my behavior as I said "Goodbye" to all clients. These five weren't the only ones that died, either. They are just the ones I've chosen to write about today.
As the 2005 busy season progressed, I started thinking (even more than I usually do) about whether or not it was a real possibility this is the last time I will see this particular "client-of-the-moment." If I concluded it was, I lingered a little longer, smalltalked a little greater and held their right hand for a few more seconds. Will the fact that I did make 2006 better or worse? Worse probably. Were my partners at Deloitte Touche in the 1980s right in that you shouldn't get personal with the client? Did I make a mistake when I founded my firm with a goal TO get close to the client?
When I see someone just once a year, each and every person makes a profound impact on me and I keep his or her snapshot with me until the next busy season. By doing this, I've learned that losing someone without saying "Goodbye" is just as difficult as losing someone I see often. It's not the quantity of time that matters; it's the quality. Since I savor and look forward to every busy season so hard and anticipate seeing every client so much, it's very traumatic to find out I never got to say "Goodbye."
David B. Robinson, CPA
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