The Auditor Cometh...and Scareth the Living Daylights Out of Me
It was a routine visit, but just the sight of those guys makes me sweat
Got a call last week from an auditor who just wanted to pass by my office the following day and audit my payroll. This is the "routine" review for workers' compensation. I was a bit taken aback because in the past I met this requirement by filling out an annual "self-audit" form and sending it to the insurance company handling the premiums. But my payroll jumped last year, which is why I think the personal visit was necessary.
After I hung up with the auditor, I immediately called my accountant, Fred, who assured me that this was quite routine, and I had nothing to worry about. Still, that didn't stop me from straightening out my desk and the frame holding my workers' compensation certificate. I also wore a tie that day.
Fred was right. The auditor -- who looked like an auditor -- came in, sat down at a table behind me, and went through my books in about 45 minutes, asking only a few questions. We also had some polite banter about the weather and his occupation. Very straightforward, though a bit awkward.
When he was done, I escorted him out the door, wished him well, and went about my business when I noticed him sprinting back. "Oh, my God," I thought. "Here comes the bomb." Of course it was nothing like that, just my paranoia acting up again.
I just don't like being visited by auditors. Their calls are way up there on my list of unfavorite things along with walking into police stations or courtrooms. In fact, every time I get something that looks official in the mail my blood pressure kicks up a notch. Not that I'm doing anything wrong. It's just that I'm so new at this that I'm afraid of being asked something that I am not familiar with. Sorry, but I always thought the word "audit" meant trouble, no matter how routine it was.
Small-business owners keep many undecipherable things on file just because the government wants us to keep them. There are sales tax forms (even if you don't need to collect taxes), I-9s, (not an interstate highway but a proof of citizenship for every employee), NYS-1s, NYS4s 941s, B52s, estimated business-tax returns, W-4s, unemployment rate statements, and so on. Last Saturday, I filled out an annual form for sales tax. The instructions are worse than those that come with some-assembly-required entertainment centers.
Last year, I wanted to be cool, so I called in my sales tax report, which amounted to nothing since I am not obligated to collect sales tax for my services. It seemed convenient enough but the voice-mail system blipped and somehow recorded that I owed sales tax. When I tried to get in again, it wouldn't let me, saying that I had already reported my sales tax liability. So this year, I went back to the form.
I spend countless hours on paperwork invented by bureaucrats who have no idea about running a business. O.K. Maybe they ran an iced-tea stand in Podunk. But even that must have bombed.
I'm sure this is only one of many audits I will have to go through as the owner of my own business. I guess it comes with the territory, but sometimes I feel like just tossing everything and running a hot-dog stand at a truck stop. It's a cash business, and you get to meet lots of interesting people, even auditors -- as long as all they want is one with mustard.
George Giokas is the president and CEO of StaffWriters Plus, a specialty agency that places writers in temporary and permanent positions with corporate and other employers. It also provides editorial consulting work. His database includes 2,500 writers and editors specializing in more than 60 categories. His Web site is located at www.staffwriters.com, and you can E-mail him at george@staffwriters.com.

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