“I can’t do your brain surgery.”
That’s what the brain surgeon told my friend. She had been diagnosed with a non-cancerous brain tumor and sent to see a specialist. Don’t worry, she is fine. This is not a tragic story.
He wasn’t the right surgeon. Her tumor was pressing against her optic nerve, so she needed an optic nerve brain surgeon. She didn’t know that was a thing. Neither did I.
It makes sense. When a problem is complex, you want the person who has spent years on that exact problem. I love my podiatrist, but she probably can’t deliver a baby.
Accounting doesn’t work that way. Companies expect a single accountant to be an expert in everything. Management accounting. Check. Financial accounting. Check. Tax. Check. Audit. Check. Process improvement. Check. Technical accounting. Check. And on and on.
Recently a recruiter reached out about a position I can professionally describe as a combination of several roles. That’s professional code for one person doing it all: general ledger, revenue, AP/AR, consolidations, monthly, quarterly, and annual closes, internal control design, audit, accounting technology, leadership and mentoring, and tax.
Tax was my weakest area, so I asked how they were weighing that part of the role. I told the recruiter I could handle it with the help of an outside tax firm.
Of course, tax was the main part of the role. They wanted someone to single-handedly build an international tax function while also handling everything else.
We agreed it was not a good fit and moved on.
Companies don’t just want a leader who can troubleshoot through a complex situation with outside help and a capable team. They want an expert who will also roll up their sleeves and do the work. The high-level strategy that requires vision and knowledge, and the everyday grunt work of preparing journal entries and reconciliations.
All for one lowball salary.
At another company, I made it pretty far in the interview process. Things started to go wrong when I realized that every new round asked for more expertise than the last.
At some point, they were faulting me for not being a technical accounting expert.
“How do you handle technical accounting at your current company?” they asked.
“We have a technical accounting team at headquarters,” I answered.
“Well, we don’t have that big of a budget, so we need one person to do it all.”
They wanted an expert in everything because they couldn’t afford to pay for one. I still don’t understand the logic.
I’m a CPA with more than a decade of experience. I can figure my way out of most accounting problems. But for these companies, having the capacity isn’t enough. They want someone who has already lived through every situation. Taken a company public? Check. Led a large team at an established company? Check. Managed growth? Check. Managed through a stormy business environment, even bankruptcy? Check. A national expansion? Check. An international expansion? Check.
Other professions don’t work this way. When my mother-in-law passed away, we had an issue with her apartment in Florida, which had a reverse mortgage. The estate lawyers we called told us we needed a real estate lawyer. Then we found out that not every real estate lawyer handles reverse mortgages.
Other professions get to specialize, to be good at one thing and get really good at it. Accountants are held to a different standard, and it leads to burnout and frustration.
The first surgeon my friend saw knew what he couldn’t do, and he said so. That was him doing his job well. When I told a recruiter I would need an outside tax firm, I was saying the same thing. In accounting, it ended the conversation.
I know a lot of accountants, and none of them is an expert in everything. That doesn’t make them lesser professionals. It makes them human.
Imagine how much better our work could be if companies let us specialize like everyone else.
