My Accounting Journey: Stories Told Along the Way

By Gary C. Schweitzer

Readers of every profession will discover the possibilities of a life of travel and work outside the US, learn how opportunities and random events can have lasting impact, and recognize the need to change plans.

Gary’s accounting profession gave him the opportunity to experience an accounting journey lasting almost four decades; living and working on four continents. Beginning with the earliest memories of his father’s grocery store in the African-American neighborhood of Miami in the 1950s and 1960s, the memoir continues with his service in the peacetime US Army, and then traces his accounting journey through Miami, Budapest, Caracas, Seoul, Tokyo, Moscow, and London.

Gary had a normal childhood; free of abuse, divorce, poverty, health problems, or other drama. He has a good education, including an advanced degree, served his country as an officer in the US Army, and had a successful career as a Certified Public Accountant. He is happily married since 1974 to his college sweetheart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Sep 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684706495

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Schweitzer

Copyright © 2019 Gary C. Schweitzer.

Publisher: Gary Schweitzer, LLC

912 Channelside Dr. Unit 2509

Tampa, Florida. 33602

Author photo by: Natalia Manaenkova

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0650-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0651-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0649-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019908145

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 07/31/2019

Dedication

To my father, who never taught me automobile mechanics, electrical repairs, or carpentry; who never took me hunting, fishing, or camping; but who give me the inspiration for my accounting journey.

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to the authors of books on writing that provided me with technical skills and knowledge of the craft.

Sin and Syntax by Constance Hale

The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr

On Writing by Stephen King

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott

Putting Stories to Work by Shawn Callahan

Your Life Is a Book by Brenda Peterson and Sarah Jane Freyman

Everybody Writes by Ann Handley

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up by Lee Gutkind

Telling True Stories edited by Mark Kramer and Wendy Call

Writing to Be Understood by Anne Janzer

The Book You Were Born to Write by Kelly Notaras

It Was the Best of Sentences, It Was the Worst of Sentences by June Casagrande

Breaking Ground on Your Memoir by Linda Joy Myers and Brooke Warner

Understanding Show, Don’t Tell by Janice Hardy

Finish by Jon Acuff

Also, reading the memoirs below gave me inspiration and ideas. Some I read years ago; others were recommended recently. Some are famous while others are not so famous, but all contributed to my understanding of storytelling as an art form.

Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

My Beloved World by Sonia Sotomayor

Hillbilly Elegy by J. D. Vance

Living History by Hillary Clinton

Under the Birch Tree by Nancy Chadwick

Becoming by Michelle Obama

Around the Block by Stephanie Elizondo Griest

Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

Perfection by Julie Metz

Have Bags, Will Travel by D. G. Kaye

At Ease: Stories I Tell to Friends by Dwight D. Eisenhower

A Cuban Refugee by Camelia Colón Townsend

An Hour Before Daylight by Jimmy Carter

The Secret Life of Objects by Dawn Raffel

Wise Guy by Guy Kawasaki

And You Thought Accountants Were Boring by Larry R. Katzen

I was fortunate to learn so much so quickly from Stephanie Chandler of the Nonfiction Authors Association, as well as from Linda Joy Myers and Brooke Warner of the National Association of Memoir Writers. Both organizations provided valuable learning, insights, and inspiration.

I wish to thank Ashley, a director at Ernst and Young in London (and one day, for sure, to be a partner). Ashley gave me the push that I needed to write this memoir.

A big thank you to my best friend and trusted colleague, Valentina, who features in the chapters on Moscow and London. The last seven years of my accounting journey would not have been as enjoyable, memorable, or productive without her by my side.

I would not be able to call myself a published author without Amber Richards and her team from Lulu Publishing. They guided me through the process from draft to publication.

The Hillsborough Community College Library, Ybor City Campus, was my writing office away from home. It gave me a quiet place to work without distractions.

The biggest thank you of all goes to my wife of forty-five years, Patrice. She encouraged me to write and helped me remember episodes in our shared life that I had long forgotten. Pattie patiently read several drafts and gave me suggestions that improved the flow and clarified details. Above all, she had the flexibility and eagerness to move so many times and make a new home wherever work took me. We have visited fifty-two countries together. We are blessed to share so many memories.

Introduction

In August 2018, I was in London, at the end of a thirty-eight-year career in accounting, having lived and worked in seven countries on four continents. It was the end of my accounting journey.

One afternoon, I was talking with Ashley, my colleague at Ernst and Young (EY), the Big Four accounting firm. Ashley and I often talked about how he should handle challenging situations. We were discussing an issue, and as I like to do, I told him a story from another place and time when I faced a similar situation.

Ashley listened carefully, nodded, and said, You know, Gary, you have a thousand of these stories.

The next month, I returned to Tampa, Florida. I thought back to Ashley’s comment and began to write this memoir to share the stories I have told along the way.

I also thought back to my days as a staff officer in the US Army. We had a saying: Planning is everything. The plan is nothing. I was always planning. I always had a plan. But when circumstances changed, when opportunities arose, or when random events occurred, the plan changed. This memoir is about those plans and how they changed.

This is a teaching memoir. I will share not only stories but my lessons learned as well—lessons from success, from failure, from happy times, and from sadness.

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I am a certified public accountant, methodical and organized. First, I read books on writing in general and writing memoirs to learn technical skills and knowledge of the craft. I read famous memoirs and others not so famous. I followed writers and writing advisors online, subscribed to their newsletters, and downloaded their how-to books. I participated in the learning events of the Nonfiction Authors Association and the National Association of Memoir Writers. I created an outline of my stories, struggling to remember the details. These are stories not only from the past four decades but from my earlier years as well.

After I completed the outline, I was discouraged. The most popular memoirs are filled with tales of child abuse, poverty, toxic relationships, illness, adultery, business failures, sadness, struggle, and redemption. My stories have none of this—maybe a little sadness, but not enough to form the theme of the book.

I had a normal childhood that was free of abuse, divorce, poverty, health problems, or other drama. I have a good education, including an advanced degree; served my country as an officer in the US Army; and had a successful career as a certified public accountant. I have been happily married since 1974 to my college sweetheart. I am not saying my life was perfect. There are regrets and disappointments, but I am fortunate. Several of my friends and colleagues have passed away, as you will read. I am thankful to be alive.

Nevertheless, I have stories to tell about learning, opportunity, planning, random events, ethics, sadness, friendship, travel, culture, language, courage, charity, family, and dreams.

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I titled this memoir My Accounting Journey because it was my profession as a certified public accountant that gave me the opportunity to live and work in so many diverse places for so many years. Accounting is the language of financial information—debits, credits, balance sheets, income statements, and annual reports. Since the publication in 1494 of Summa de arithmetica by Franciscan friar Luca Pacioli, the father of accounting, double-entry bookkeeping has spread throughout the world. Companies everywhere follow roughly the same accounting principles to prepare financial statements and communicate financial information.

There are two accounting languages in wide use: generally accepted accounting principles, developed in the United States, and international financial reporting standards. I am fluent in both. Because I spoke these accounting languages, I could move from country to country and work in my profession without speaking much of the local language.

The second reason I was able to live and work in several countries is the global reach of the accounting profession. I was a partner in the Big Eight, Big Six, Big Five, and finally, the Big Four, which refer to the number of the largest global accounting firms during my career. (The number steadily decreased due to mergers and to the death of the Arthur Andersen firm.) These firms have a network of offices that cover the world. Although staffed primarily with accountants hired locally, there is a need for specialists from the United States and Europe to serve global clients or to serve local clients that are involved in international transactions. My specialty was serving companies from countries outside the United States that sold shares on US stock exchanges. My expertise was in demand and portable across borders.

Few of the events described herein deal with technical accounting issues. But underlying it all was my ability to move from country to country as a simple accountant without the need to be fluent in the local languages. The title My Accounting Journey feels right.

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I have included only stories that I remember reliably. The dialogue is to the best of my recollection. In most cases, I use the real names of family, friends, and colleagues—for example, high school friends Clyde and Dickey; college friends Mark and Steve; colleagues Hubertus and Jim. In some cases, I use pseudonyms, which I make clear in the writing, because my stories reflect the negative side of people or I wish to protect their privacy. It is not my intention to embarrass anyone. Small details about people and clients may also be changed to protect their privacy or confidentiality, but nothing changes the substance of the narrative.

My wife, Patrice, appears throughout the book. I often use her nickname, Pattie. Our god daughter, Patricia, was named after Patrice. Her full name is Patricia Eyliana Lucas Velez. As a child, we called her Patty. As a teenager, she adopted the nickname Patty Lu. To avoid confusion between Pattie and Patty, I will use Patty Lu throughout.

Although the focus of the memoir is on the period of my public accounting career from 1980 to 2018, I cover events from my early years in Miami, at the University of Florida, and during my service in the US Army to the extent they influenced my accounting journey.

These are the stories told along the way.

CHAPTER 1

Earliest Memories

1951–1969

H amburg, Germany, 1930 . Eleven-year-old Oscar Schweitzer, my father, and his older brother, Mickey, were standing on the docks waiting to board the passenger ship that would take the two of them to Halifax, Canada. Ella, their older sister, was standing nearby. She was in charge of them during the journey. Their mother, Cecelia, had been working as a cook in Canada the past two years and had recently sent for the children. Their father, Sandor, had deserted the family years before.

A tall, muscular, African man was loading cargo. He was the first black man that Oscar and Mickey had seen in their short lives. They had never seen one in the Hungarian town where they had been born, on the train ride around Lake Balaton to Budapest, or on the train to Hamburg.

Oscar looked at the man and then at Mickey. Look at that man. He’s black. What could have happened to him?

He must have been badly burned, guessed Mickey.

Maybe some decoration or family custom. I think it’s paint, Oscar said.

They crept up behind. Oscar rubbed his finger along one of the man’s black arms to see whether the paint would rub off.

This was the first childhood story told to me by my father. It is ironic since a large part of Oscar’s adult life would be dedicated to owning a grocery store in the African American section of Miami, where he spent most of his waking hours with African Americans. The grocery store played an important part in my life as well—an early stop on my accounting journey.

The Hamburg story is one of the few told by my father. As a memoir writer, I am at a disadvantage. I did not know any of my four grandparents, who are often the keepers of memories, the master storytellers. I have none of those memories. Neither did my parents speak much of their youth, a youth they tried to forget. It was clouded by the Depression of the 1930s and the war and postwar period of the 1940s.

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My father was born in 1919 in Pápa, a historic town in Hungary, dating back a thousand years. Jews once made up 25 percent of the population. Today there are none. He was born in the house of the caretaker of the old Jewish cemetery. I never heard my father speak of his father. The family legend is that Sandor became a passionate Communist, abandoned the family, and rose to a position of importance in the Hungarian Communist Party. My brother remembers the story differently—that our grandfather was executed by anti-Communist activists in the 1920s. Maybe both stories are true. In any case, when Cecelia died in 1933, her death certificate listed her as a widow. During my three years living in Hungary, I found no information about Sandor.

The family left Pápa because of antisemitism. Jews were segregated. The cemetery, where the family lived, was for Jews only. There is a saying among Jews: In the 1930s, the pessimists went to America; the optimists went to Auschwitz. In 1992, when I visited the shabby, dusty synagogue in Pápa, there was only a handful of old men sitting around—Holocaust survivors. Not enough for the minimum ten men needed to hold a proper religious service. Every Jew in the village had gone to Auschwitz. A few hundred children had survived and returned. Raoul Wallenberg, the Danish diplomat, had saved many of the Jews in Budapest, but his influence did not extend outside of the capital.

The sad childhood stories of my father told of poverty and oppression, a single Jewish mother raising three children and living in a cemetery, and children throwing rocks at Oscar and Mickey as they walked to Hebrew school on Saturdays because they were Jews. My father wanted to impress on me and my brother how fortunate we were to live a middle-class life in the American paradise. His only happy memory was eating plums from the tree in the cemetery behind the house. Otherwise, he tasted only bitterness for his native country.

The three siblings sailed from Hamburg to Halifax, reunited with their mother in Montreal, and then crossed over (legally, I am told) to settle in New York City. My father’s uncle Jack had preceded the family and operated a profitable fur business. Oscar and Mickey soon had jobs sewing fur coats and were making good salaries. Oscar did not graduate high school, instead choosing to drop out to work full-time. Mickey spent his working life in New York in the fur business, but my father had other plans.

In the late 1930s, single and earning a good living, Oscar and his friends made annual road trips down the East Coast to Miami and Miami Beach. His memories of the warm weather and simpler lifestyle paved the way for his postwar move south.

My father was proud to be an American. He had no desire to speak Hungarian. The only time I heard him speak his native language was when he talked to his aunts and uncles. Once they passed away, I never heard him speak another word of Hungarian until he came to visit me in Hungary.

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My mother, Lillian, was born in Brooklyn to Jewish immigrants from Austria. I have no memories of meeting her parents. The only time I heard her speak of either of them was to mention in passing that her father was the checkers champion of Brooklyn.

Many of the memoirs I read contain entire chapters about the wisdom and life experiences learned from one or more of the writer’s grandparents. Whether the grandparent was good or evil, sane or crazy, abusive or comforting, there were stories to tell. I have none. Not only do I not have any direct memories, but my grandparents seem to have had no influence on my parents. I never heard my aunts or uncles talk about them either—four people who left no legacy.

My parents married in 1942, shortly before my father was shipped to England with the US Army Air Corps. My mother worked for an army colonel/medical doctor in New York City. The military office assembled the medical supplies needed for the war in Europe, arranging for them