Well over a decade ago I was midway through high school and
daunted by that classic teenage question, What
are you going to do after high school?
I never guessed I would be where I am today in
life, doing what I do.
When I took the ACT exam, it offered a complimentary career
path finder. I diligently completed the scantron bubbles and curiously awaited
the little summary printout I received in the mail some weeks later. The
results: it was recommended that I not work in a
people field (healthcare and teaching being their main offerings)
but rather work with
things. Based on
my bubble answers, their top job recommendation was for me to work in shipping
and distribution (i.e. folding and taping boxes—and maybe eventually overseeing
the folding and taping of boxes). I was not enthused, and never pursued a
packaging degree.
Instead, I weighed my options between studying to become a
dental hygienist or an accountant. It went something like this:
Dental Hygienist
Pros:
- short two-year training for certification
- an excellent well-respected
program close to home
- helping people keep their teeth clean just sounds like a
very worthy cause
- practical skill can be used anywhere in the world
- part time
positions would be common in the field (flexibility being an important career
consideration)
Cons:
- many science classes required
- lots of people have bad
breath
- it might be too gross
Accountant
Pros:
- accountants are needed everywhere (#thinkglobal)
- accountants can work/consult from home,
or hold part-time or full-time positions
- the profession is well respected
- I
think I like numbers (at least I was always good at math in elementary school)
- a nationally recognized excellent business school within driving distance from
home
Cons:
- minimum four-year (read: forever!) program to get a degree—and that doesn’t even meet
pre-CPA eligibility requirements
- accountants are smart—and what if I’m not
smart enough and fail
- I don’t even know what accounting really is
- tax/busy
season horror stories (quite literally terrifying)
- I don’t want to work for a giant scary accounting firm
- the thought of ever even having the slightest chance of being that
person doing taxes in the H&R Block tent behind Walmart checkouts freaks.me.out! YIKES.
In the end, the con of “many science classes required”
played a heavy part in my decision to turn and run from the dental hygienist
path (despite my big fears surrounding giant accounting firms, tax season, and those H&R Block tents at Walmart*). And while I do still love seeing bright, clean teeth, I’ve never
regretted my decision to focus in the world of business.
My favorite thing about numbers is that they don’t talk back. My second favorite thing is that they don’t have bad breath.
Numbers are essentially the opposite of people—in the most refreshing way possible.
Numbers just are.
They are facts.
It’s the manipulation of numbers that makes them meaningful and
effective, but the numbers themselves… they are.
I love me a big bunch of numbers that need to be organized and arranged and
sorted and translated into relevant, meaningful sense for the rest of the
world. I love black and white spreadsheets that aren’t fancy but are oh.so.practical.
I love taking a bunch of information and fitting it into predetermined “boxes”
(but not the kind you mail…) so the end result makes real-world sense.
But the thing is that I love people too. I love numbers, and
I love people.
And the more I work with numbers, the more I realize how
much numbers affect people.
Every.day.
Sometimes the day-to-day affects of numbers are happy (when
I prep payroll), and sometimes they are sad (when I deny someone’s request for
reimbursement for an expense which doesn’t fit within IRS guidelines).
And lots of times I wish the numbers didn’t affect the
people, because it hurts to care about people. It’s exhausting to care about my employees as they walk through deep
valleys of pain, grief, trauma, cultural, and economic challenges. Because
in the midst of those painful, grief-stricken, fear-inducing realities they
face… appears this funny little part of my
life: money.
The money matters.
There are no plane tickets to travel across the ocean when a
loved one is in distress unless there’s money.
Those times of rest and rejuvenation away from the demands
of cross-cultural ministry… they don’t happen without at least a few bucks to
sustain one’s physical needs while seeking to refresh the spirit.
And life—the every-day-normal-stuff-kind
of living—it can’t happen without some everyday income.
Some days I leave work thinking dreamy thoughts about
accounting jobs that are more removed from people than my current position is.
Sure… you can trace all money trails down/back/up/around to people, but somehow
hugging spreadsheets in an office with a door (an office with a door! Oh my. That is a dreamy thought…) on the
fourteenth floor looks like it would provide a bit of insulation from the
monetary realities that haunt people outside and below.
And some days I feel like I’d like some of that insulation.
Portions of the accounting field that deal solely with
numbers are the portions that are most easily automated. Those parts that deal
more directly with people and strategic decision making are the bits the robots
can’t handle so well—they’re the reason we still have so many accountants in
the ever increasingly automated field, and they’re the reason for my job
security :). Robots don’t know how to weigh the realities of life with the
realities of written policy. They don’t know how to combine empathy and equity.
They are programmed not Holy Spirit filled. And they rely on algorithms not
Heavenly wisdom when it comes to problem-solving those messy, real-life, every-day-money dilemmas.
My job continually provides me with two of my favorite
things: black and white numbers, and meaningful life experiences involving a whole lot of unique people. And although I may dream of
many beautiful things during long, stressful times at the office, I’ve never
dreamed of that position as a shipping manager. Additionally, while being
surrounded by bad breath remains an unfortunate normal life occurrence, I’ve never wished for that dental hygiene career either.
As an accountant right here and right now in this position, I choose to:
- Celebrate the little victories at my desk: an improved
process, a clearly communicated instruction, the happy news of the safe arrival
of an international wire, a smooth semi-automated monthly payroll.
- Pray through the struggles: those emails from stressed out peeps
wherein I feel like I’m being yelled at (ouch), broken processes that never seem to
improve, too many to-dos—all of them affecting someone in some way…
- and Care about my people: an employee in crisis or
illness, uncertain legal/paperwork renewals, the struggles of living far away
from Stateside family, the one who still doesn’t understand even after multiple
explanations… all of them. Each of
them.
The people.
The people and the
numbers.
*A couple years ago, I was unbelievably happy to learn that H&R Block's contract with Walmart was not renewed, and therefore H&R Block tax tents no longer dot the checkout lanes of Wally-worlds around the nation. Hallelujah for fears dispelled.
When I took the ACT exam, it offered a complimentary career
path finder. I diligently completed the scantron bubbles and curiously awaited
the little summary printout I received in the mail some weeks later. The
results: it was recommended that I not work in a people field (healthcare and teaching being their main offerings)
but rather work with things. Based on
my bubble answers, their top job recommendation was for me to work in shipping
and distribution (i.e. folding and taping boxes—and maybe eventually overseeing
the folding and taping of boxes). I was not enthused, and never pursued a
packaging degree.
