Accidental CPA

— Frank Cruz

On a beautiful May morning, as I entered St Louis University (SLU) Business School, my accounting professor, Joe Tooks, stood behind me.

“Good morning, Frank. A quick question. Have you considered taking the CPA exam? My goal for SLU is to have as many CPAs as possible among our accounting graduates. You have demonstrated a good grasp of accounting.”

Surprised, I spun around to see a distinguished gentleman dressed in his usual grey pinstripe suit from Brooks Brothers, a white button-down shirt with a silk red tie, and highly polished black wing-tip shoes with grey socks and carrying his Edmond Leather brief attaché case . His grey hair was well-coiffed with his bifocals resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose. Grey pinstripe suits really enhance the light complexion.

I stammered, “Good morning, Professor. No. What’s a CPA?” I was intimidated by well-dressed people.

“I think it’s called a Chartered Accountant in England.”

“Don’t you have to work for an auditing firm first to become a Chartered Accountant? I have two cousins in India who are Chartered Accountants.”

“It is different here. You pass the exam first to obtain your license. Then you must work as an auditor for two years with an auditing firm. If you walk back with me to my office, I will give you an exam application.”

Later in my dorm room, I looked over the application and the fee schedule. I had no money to pay for the exam. I had come to SLU to earn an MBA and had no plans to become a Certified Public Accountant.

To take the exam, I’d have to travel to Jefferson City, the capital of Missouri. I’d have to stay in a motel for two nights. How would I get to Jefferson City without a car?

I took a deep breath. I would cross one hurdle at a time, decide to mail the application and hope for the best. My hand shook as I wrote a $50 check to the State Board of Accountancy. I attached two transcripts: my Bachelor of Science degree in Chemistry from St Xavier’s College in Bombay, and the 24 hours of SLU accounting courses I had taken.

I mailed the application in the first week of June. Three weeks later, the State Board of Accounting responded in a letter:

“We have accepted the twenty-four hours of accounting classes at St Louis University, but we are rejecting your application to take the CPA exam in November 1980 because you do not have an undergraduate degree. In India, a college graduate has eleven years of primary and high school, plus four years of college. While the students in the US have twelve years of primary and high school, plus four years of college. As a result, you do not have a degree. Your application to take the CPA exam has been rejected.”

I read the letter a couple of times. My inner critic said, “You should not have applied. You wasted $50. You’re an idiot.”

I was relieved that I was rejected because I didn’t have enough money to cover the exam fee, the hotel room, and the transportation to Jefferson City. I was sad because I hated rejection which showered me with shame.

Summer school started in late June. I met my friend Bill in a Statistics class. Bill, PhD student, managed the Accounting Lab which was stacked with accounting and tax books. Who knew there were so many books on a subject with one simple equation: debits equal credits.

I felt comfortable sharing with Bill that my CPA application had been rejected.

His eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“According to the State Board of Accountancy, I had eleven years of schooling in India instead of the twelve years required in the US.”

“That’s nonsense,” he laughed, throwing his head back. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing” I shrugged. “Those are the rules.”

He stared at me, his face slowly turning red. “You don’t believe that garbage, do you? You should talk to Professor Tooks. Don’t just roll over for mindless bureaucrats who make up stupid rules.”

“Let’s get a cup of coffee,” he said as class ended, and we headed for the cafeteria. I paid for the cups of coffee.

“You should show Professor Tooks the letter. He was a partner at Coopers before he turned to teaching and may know how to respond.”

I sipped my coffee and my mind was churning.

“So, it’s who you know instead of what you know? We call that ‘influence’ in Bombay.”

“It’s the same here, just more subtle.” Bill explained that the folks at the State Board of Accountancy rejected your application because they assume your Indian education was worthless. That’s biased. You have a straight A in your 24 hours of accounting at SLU. Professor Tooks will set them straight.”

With a trace of skepticism, I said, “OK, I’ll go see Professor Tooks.”

Next day, I went to see him, “Good afternoon, Professor. I got rejected by the State Board of Accountancy.”

I handed him the letter. He read it, he shook head in disbelief, then reread it. He laughed,

“They are rejecting your application because you skipped ahead of kindergarten in India? They have ignored your fine performance here in accounting at SLU. They are supposed to evaluate your knowledge of accounting, not nursery rhymes. Leave this letter with me and I will respond.”

I apologized to myself for thinking I was a failure.

Two weeks later, the State Board of Accountancy mailed me another letter that said: “Congratulations, we are excited to inform that you are eligible to take the Uniform CPA Exam.”

Enclosed with the letter was a fee schedule and deadline to pay for the November exam.

The next time I was in the Accounting Lab, I told Bill the good news and the bad news.

“The good news is I’m eligible to take the exam.”

“Aha, see what I told you. What’s the bad news?”

I hesitated, “I have no money.”

“Did you talk to Professor Tooks about that?”

“I am too embarrassed to tell Professor Tooks that I am broke. I should have accepted the rejection letter and not made him go to the trouble of writing the State Board of Accountancy on my behalf.”

Three days later, I got a phone call from Professor Tooks to come and see him.

“Bill told me about your situation. No worries. Here is a check for the fee for your CPA exam.” Shock waves like earth tremors raced through my body. My mouth went dry. My mind blanked out.

He continued, “I talked to one of our students, Jeff, who is taking the CPA exam, too. He booked a double occupancy room as single occupancy rooms were sold out. You can split the cost with him and share a ride as he is driving to Jefferson City. Bill knows Jeff and can introduce you two.”

All I could stammer was, “Thank you, sir.”

I mailed the application to take the exam, and I spent several weeks studying for the exam. I was not going to disappoint Professor Tooks. The weeks just sped by.

The three days in Jefferson City remained blurred in my memory. All I remember was being in the exam hall and poring over my study guides.

The results of the CPA exam were announced at the end of February. When I picked up the envelope from the State Board of Accountancy, I closed my eyes and prayed, then ripped open the envelope.

I was out of breath when I met Bill in the Accounting Lab. “I passed all parts of the CPA exam.”

“Congratulations, have faith and don’t fold so easily,” Bill said with a broad smile.

I took Bill out to lunch at an Italian restaurant to celebrate. Without him prodding me, I would have just caved in.

The next morning, I hurried over to Professor Tooks’ office. I waited outside until the student left his office. When I entered, he stood up and shook my hand, revealing his soft palm.

“Congratulations. Bill told me this morning. I am more than happy for you. Seven SLU graduates so far have passed the exam on their first attempt. It’s a huge boost for our accounting program.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But I still owe you the exam fee.”

“Let’s write that off as a good debt.”

I stared in amazement, “Are you sure?”

Pride kicked in, I felt like a charity case. But he just smiled broadly and waved in the next student waiting outside his office.

I hurried up the three flights of stairs to the Accounting Lab to talk to Bill. “I just saw Professor Tooks and told him I wanted to repay the exam fee. He said we should write it off as a good debt.”

“A good debt, huh?” he laughed, “He was a partner at Coopers. That money is pennies lying on the floor of a water fountain.”

I was confused. “I know that, according to generally accepted accounting principles, bad debt is written off against revenue.” I relished how the phrase ‘generally accepted accounting principles’ rolled off my tongue. I felt a sense of power.

“But what’s a good debt written off to?”

“Good will,” said Bill.

That restored my dignity. I vowed to repay good will over my career.

Frank Cruz is a retired CPA and software consultant. After three decades in Falls Church, Virginia, he moved to Tampa fifteen years ago to avoid the cold winters. He is a graduate of St. Xavier’s College in Mumbai, India with a bachelor’s degree in chemistry, and holds a master’s degree in Business Administration from St. Louis University. An OLLI member since June of 2024, he actively participates in the Readers and Writer’s group. In addition to his OLLI activities, Frank volunteers for the Friends of New Tampa Library and serves as treasurer for three non-profits.