Life's Too Short to Work with Jerks Three simple rules for choosing the right clients My brother Chuck has a pretty straightforward philosophy about who he does business with. Over the years, I've come to appreciate just how smart it is. Three rules. That's it. 1. Can we deliver real, measurable results? 2. Can they afford our services? 3. Do we like them? That third one always makes me smile. Chuck isn't suggesting we need to become best friends with our clients, invite them to Thanksgiving dinner or share vacation photos. He's talking about something more fundamental: mutual respect and trust. Or, as Chuck might put it, life is too short to work with assholes. And you know what? He's right. The First Two Are Pretty Straightforward The first rule is about competence and integrity. Can we actually help an organization achieve something meaningful? Not just produce an impressive report or a beautiful PowerPoint presentation. Can we make a measurable difference? If the answer is no, we shouldn't take the engagement. Period. The second is about economics. Professional services are an investment, and clients need the resources to make that investment without financial heartburn. If every invoice becomes a source of anxiety or resentment, nobody wins. Pretty simple, right? But then there's rule number three. The One We Tend to Ignore Do we like them? I've worked with some incredibly demanding clients. Smart, driven, impatient people with high expectations and very little tolerance for nonsense. Frankly, I like those people. They challenge assumptions, ask tough questions, push for results and make us better at what we do. But demanding and difficult aren't the same thing. There's a world of difference between a client who challenges your thinking and one who challenges your integrity. Between someone who expects accountability and someone who refuses to accept any themselves. And no amount of money makes up for that. It's a Two-Way Street Of course, advisors aren't automatically the good guys. We need to deliver on our commitments, communicate clearly, acknowledge mistakes and take responsibility when things go wrong. Clients have every right to expect results and question whether they're getting value. But successful engagements are partnerships. Both sides need to participate, communicate and occasionally have uncomfortable conversations. When a relationship becomes more about assigning blame than solving problems, something has gone sideways. Sometimes the chemistry simply isn't there. And that's okay. Knowing When to Say No (Or Goodbye) Here's something I've learned: Chuck's three rules aren't just useful when deciding whether to take on a client. They're worth revisiting throughout the relationship. Can we still deliver meaningful results? Does the engagement still make economic sense? And is there enough mutual respect and trust to do good work together? Sometimes expectations can be reset and relationships repaired. And sometimes the best business decision is to shake hands and part company. That isn't failure. It's recognizing that a professional relationship needs to work for both parties. Brother Chuck Had It Right  In business, we spend an enormous amount of time talking about revenue, growth, profitability and client acquisition. We spend considerably less time talking about the quality of the relationships we're building along the way. But the people we work with have an outsized impact on our effectiveness, our energy and, frankly, our enjoyment of the work. I've reached a point in my career where all three matter. So, thank you, Brother Chuck, for three wonderfully uncomplicated rules. Can we make a difference? Can they afford us? Do we like them? Three questions. A whole lot of wisdom. And a very good reason to occasionally say, "Thanks, but no thanks." Turns out Brother Chuck wasn't just giving business advice. He was protecting our sanity.

One of the most surprising things about getting older is realizing how much more you still have to learn. It’s the opposite of your twenties when you think you know everything. Let me share a story. It was the late 1990s. I was 28 years old, six years into my career in public accounting in Chicago. Ambitious, confident and eager to be where the action was, I thought I was doing pretty well. I figured I could outwork anybody even if I wasn’t the smartest guy in the room. When other people avoided the messy assignments, I usually stepped up and said yes. One day my client Bill called. He was a pretty tough guy. A Vietnam veteran and a very successful businessman, Bill was having a dispute with another businessman named Vincent. Vincent looked and sounded like a younger Joe Pesci from the mafia movie Goodfellas. Word on the street was that Vincent was…let’s say…connected. I never asked for clarification. Apparently, Bill and Vincent’s dispute had been escalating over the years until one day Vincent showed up outside Bill’s office window. He didn’t knock on the front door or announce himself in the waiting room. He went right to the office window, pulled out a handgun and tapped it against the glass while Bill was working at his desk. And in that unmistakably high-pitched (Joe Pesci) voice Vincent said: “We gotta talk.” The core of Bill and Vincent’s dispute, which became an accounting assignment for me, involved Vincent’s use of Bill’s private jet. More specifically, the dispute centered around Vincent’s refusal to fill up the gas tank after each trip he took in the plane. Given the size of the tank and the cost of jet fuel, Bill believed Vincent owed him more than $200,000. So, I spent three weeks evaluating the evidence. And making the substantive financial data the primary (and sole) evidence of proof was my first mistake. I painstakingly went through every invoice, every flight, every gallon of fuel, and every dollar. I built the analysis and determined that the financial facts were indisputable: Vincent owed Bill $200,000. Now all I had to do was explain that outstanding balance to the guy with the gun. A few weeks later, we gathered in Bill’s office. The place hadn’t been updated since the 1960s. It was dimly lit with shag carpeting and wood paneling accented by the faint smell of mildew, cigarette smoke, and hazelnut coffee to which Bill was addicted. We crowded around what looked like a kitchen table that had been repurposed as a conference room table. Bill and his attorney were to my left. Vincent and his attorney were to my right. My boss Jason sat across from me. It quickly became clear that I would be the one mediating this dispute. I also realized that I was the only person at the table who wasn’t carrying a gun. The meeting started abruptly. No small talk. No rapport building. Bill motioned toward my boss who then swiftly turned the attention on me saying: “Dan…show us what you got.” I asked Bill what he wanted from this meeting. “I want my gas money,” he exclaimed. Vincent promptly jumped in: “I don’t owe you any fucking gas money!” he seethed. Okay then. I handed out my analysis to all those gathered around this dealmakers’ table which clearly showed Vincent’s outstanding balance of $200,000 for unreimbursed fuel. Vincent didn’t even look at my analysis. He just glared at me and snarled: “PROVE IT!” “Perfect,” I thought to myself. This was my moment. Every invoice was accounted for. Every number tied. The facts didn’t lie. This meeting was over in my mind, and I was preparing for the mic drop. Then Vincent asked one question: “Was That in the Agreement?” Silence. Nervously I looked at Bill and asked to see the airplane rental agreement. He didn’t have it because there wasn’t one. My heart sank. As an auditor I was trained to go to the source and then multiple sources. I’d spent three weeks examining every invoice, every flight and every number. But it never occurred to me to ask for and review the rental agreement. The room went dead quiet. Then Vincent’s attorney looked at me and asked: “Hey Dan…you like fishing?” “Yeah. I like fishing,” I replied. “Whaddayah say I take you fishing out on Lake Michigan?” he asked. Pause. “But only one of us is coming back.” Vincent burst out laughing and then the room erupted into chaotic conflict. For the next half hour, Bill and Vincent went after each other verbally. Screaming. Accusations. Attack after attack. Eventually Vincent offered to pay Bill fifty cents on the dollar. Bill refused. Nobody was listening. Nobody was moving. I couldn’t see a way forward. Then out of nowhere, Bill stood up. He walked over to his personal Keurig coffee maker and pulled out a hazelnut coffee K-Cup from his private stash, inserted it into the basket and hit the brew button. Then he turned around and as he adjusted the belt around his 52-inch waist he said: “Hey Vin…how old a guy are ya?” Through his clenched teeth and jaw that was tense from the conflict, Vincent replied emphatically, “I’m Sixty.” Bill looked at him. “You look good for your age. What’s your secret?” Vincent’s entire demeanor changed. He smiled and sat up a little taller. “My secret?” he replied…And, after a long pause. “I eat salads. I drink Coronas. I pump iron. And I FUCK.” The room exploded in laughter and the two men looked across the table at each other. There seemed to be a sense of relief. The air in the room wasn’t weighed down by two tough guys with guns fighting over $200,000. This conflict became two guys laughing at a joke together. Bill reached across the table and shook Vincent’s hand saying: “I think we have ourselves a deal.” They agreed to split the difference. And just like that it was over. Lesson learned Through the lens of an accountant, I walked into the meeting believing the outcome would be all about the numbers in my spreadsheet. It wasn’t until years later and I had matured as a negotiator and CPA that I realized something profound. These two intimidating, rough & tumble guys were also human beings. They were two humans who just needed to speak and be heard. We use the phrase “trusted advisor” constantly in the accounting profession. Being a trusted advisor isn’t a menu offering on your services listing page. Sometimes your value isn’t having the answer; Sometimes it’s knowing when the numbers aren’t the answer. It’s understanding the people sitting around the table. It’s listening to the points made and counterpoints offered. It’s reading the room. And sometimes it’s recognizing the moment when two adversaries stop being adversaries long enough to become human beings again. CPAs occupy an extraordinary position with their clients. Because we are trusted, we get invited into rooms to help solve problems that aren’t always financial—even when they first appear to be. Our job is to see the whole field, not to stay laser focused on the numbers. Conclusion At 28, I thought I was walking into that room armed with the most important thing I could bring: A perfectly reconciled $200,000 spreadsheet. Turns out that wasn’t the answer. Nor was bringing a gun to the negotiating table. Instead, all it took to solve a messy, acrimonious dispute was a cup of hazelnut coffee, a good laugh and helping two adversaries finally see and hear each other when they couldn’t do it on their own. That’s the power of being your client’s most trusted advisor. The dates and names and location of this true story have been modified to protect the identity of those involved. To see Dan perform this very story in a live storytelling format, click on the following link and scroll to the 45:55-time marker: https://www.youtube.com/live/2DYxFI5gIgI?is=LLEDJjyc7RlAE4sg

There's a seasonality to CPA firm M&A that people outside the profession may not fully appreciate. Firms can technically complete a transaction at any point in the year, but in practice, the profession's calendar matters. Tax deadlines matter. Busy season matters. Client communication matters. Employee communication matters. And nobody particularly wants to combine two accounting firms on December 29 and then figure everything else out while heading straight into tax season. For that reason, two natural transaction windows tend to emerge: May through early August. Late October through mid-November, after the October 15 deadline That second window is particularly important. Completing a transaction before Thanksgiving gives both parties runway to communicate with employees, clients and other stakeholders in an orderly way before year-end — and before the next busy season arrives. So yes, CPA "deal season" is real. If you're considering selling, merging or bringing in outside capital, here are three things worth keeping in mind before the clock starts running. 1. Be Prepared Before the Buyer Asks This one should be obvious — particularly to CPAs. And yet it isn't. We continue to encounter firms pursuing significant transactions that don't have their own financial information organized and ready when negotiations begin. In an ordinary year, that's management's prerogative — you decide when your internal reporting gets done. A transaction year is different. If you're going to market, you need your house in order in advance. Have your financial statements ready. Understand your revenue and your normalized earnings. Know your partner compensation, your working capital, your client concentration and your people costs. Be prepared to explain any unusual or non-recurring items. Most importantly, don't wait until a buyer asks. If an interested party signs an NDA and requests information, you want to be able to say, "Here it is" — not "let me get back to you." Think about the message that sends. You're not just handing over numbers; you're demonstrating the caliber of organization someone may be acquiring. Now imagine the opposite: a firm trying to sell itself in the Fall of 2026 that still can't produce complete 2025 financials. If one of our own audit or advisory clients showed up that disorganized, we'd start asking questions. Buyers will too. A prepared seller also gains something less obvious: speed becomes optional rather than forced. You can move quickly when it serves you, and slow down when it doesn't — a far stronger position than scrambling to assemble information while a buyer's clock is already running. 2. One Buyer Is No Buyer There's an old saying in M&A: "One buyer is no buyer." It doesn't mean a deal with a single suitor can't succeed — it means that without a competing offer to measure against, a seller has little evidence the terms on the table reflect the market. We've seen the danger firsthand. A seller gets interest from a credible buyer. The opportunity looks attractive. Talks move quickly. The buyer asks for exclusivity, and the seller agrees. Suddenly the seller is locked up for 60 or 90 days, the competitive process stops, and something subtle starts to happen: the seller becomes increasingly invested in completing that one deal. It's the classic sunk-cost dynamic. Time has passed. Management has spent hours answering questions. Advisors are engaged. Diligence is underway. Employees may soon need to know. Another busy season is approaching. The clock is working against the seller, and the buyer knows it. Before exclusivity, the buyer was competing for the seller. Once exclusivity kicks in, the seller often finds itself working to preserve the deal instead. That's exactly why competition matters. Multiple buyers create alternatives; alternatives create leverage; and leverage gives a seller the ability to say one of the most important words in any negotiation: "No." There's an old advertising line: "When banks compete, you win." The same holds true for CPA firm M&A. When qualified buyers compete, sellers generally learn more about the market, have more real alternatives, and are better positioned to negotiate the terms that matter most — and notice I said terms, not just price. That's the third point. 3. Don't Just Compare the Offers — Study What the Buyers Are Telling You This may be the most overlooked benefit of running a competitive process. Different buyers can look at the same firm and see entirely different things. One may put a premium on earnings. Another may question management depth. Another may see succession risk. Another may want certain partners to stay involved — but not necessarily as owners. Another may discount the seller's stated EBITDA before diligence even starts, simply because experience tells them quality-of-earnings work usually turns up adjustments. Those differing perspectives are enormously valuable to a thoughtful seller. A hypothetical example. Consider a firm with $2.4 million of normalized EBITDA. One sophisticated buyer bases its initial offer on only $2 million. Why? Perhaps that buyer has completed dozens of deals and expects diligence to uncover something that lowers earnings — so rather than offer a higher number now and try to re-trade later, that buyer builds in a cushion from the start. Is the buyer just conservative? Does it see a risk the seller hasn't identified? Are other buyers seeing the same issue but waiting to raise it until after exclusivity? Or is this buyer betting that certainty of closing will ultimately set it apart? Now consider leadership. Suppose a seller expects four younger partners, with staggered exit timelines, to continue as equity owners after closing. One buyer offers two of them something less than equity. It may sting — but instead of taking offense, the seller should ask why. Is it a philosophical difference in how this buyer structures partnerships? A negotiating position? Or has the buyer spotted a gap in leadership, business development or client ownership that the seller hasn't fully reckoned with? That information has value even if you ultimately reject the buyer's read on it. Every serious offer contains signal, if you're willing to read between the lines. Sophisticated buyers are telling you how they see your earnings, your leadership, your risk and your negotiating position. Listen carefully and respond accordingly. Diligence should run in both directions. Sellers sometimes treat due diligence as something done to them. That's a mistake — the seller should be running diligence too, asking questions like: Who is this buyer? How have their previous transactions actually played out? What happened to the partners? To employees? How were compensation promises implemented? How does governance really operate post-close? What happened when a prior acquisition missed its projections? How has rollover equity performed? What does "autonomy" actually mean after closing? And perhaps most importantly: does this buyer behave the same way after exclusivity as it did while competing for the deal? It's also worth running some of the buyer's likely diligence on yourself before going to market. A sell-side quality-of-earnings analysis isn't necessary for every transaction, but understanding your own normalized earnings with the same rigor that a sophisticated buyer does can be extraordinarily valuable. Find your weaknesses before the buyer does. Understand the likely adjustments before someone uses them against you. Know where the disagreements are likely to surface before your leverage changes. The Best Time to Create Leverage Is Before You Need It CPA firm owners spend their careers telling clients to plan ahead. If you're considering a transaction, it's a good time to take your own advice: get your information ready, stay prepared to respond to opportunity on your own terms, create legitimate alternatives, pay attention to what competing buyers are telling you about your business, and do your own diligence before letting someone else do theirs. Once an LOI is signed and exclusivity begins, the dynamics of a deal change. The best time to prepare for that moment is while you still have choices — and time — on your side.

Retaining good people does not start with another policy, perk or compensation study. It starts with something harder for many firm leaders: stop talking, listen honestly and act on what you hear. Check out Robin Bienemann’s latest contribution to NJCPA where she discusses the importance of driving engagement of CPA firm staff by first listening. Want to Retain Staff? Listen First to 4 Categories of Feedback

Governance is the structure that holds a company upright and the signal path that carries leadership intent throughout the organization. Without it, growth becomes noisy, accountability becomes emotional, and control becomes personal. Governance Is Not Just a Boardroom Topic Many owners hear the word governance and immediately think about the boardroom — agendas, minutes, resolutions, and formal oversight. Those things matter. But if governance never leaves the boardroom, it is not doing enough work inside the business. The companies that feel organized, scalable, and under control are usually the companies where governance has made its way into the operating system itself. People understand who owns what. Decision rights are clear. Expectations are clear. Standards are consistent. Results are measurable and visible. That is governance too. Board meetings matter. Executive alignment matters. Tone at the top matters. But governance only becomes real when leadership intent actually travels through the organization and shows up in day-to-day execution. Governance – the Spine of an Organization The best analogy I have found for governance is the spine.  The spine gives the body structure. The spinal cord carries signals that coordinate movement and function. A business needs the same thing. Without structure, growth becomes chaotic. Without signal flow, leadership intent never reaches the front line consistently. The organization starts relying on personalities, memory, workarounds, and constant owner intervention. That is why governance is not simply a control mechanism. It is the structural and communication framework of the enterprise. When the spine weakens, the body compensates inefficiently. Pain develops. Movement becomes harder. Organizations experience the same thing. Decisions slow down. Accountability gets blurry. People work hard but collide with one another. The owner becomes the escalation point for everything. The business may still be growing, but it does not feel healthy. Where Governance Becomes Practical Governance becomes tangible in three critical areas: Roles and responsibilities Policies and procedures Metrics and goals These sound simple, but they are where operational control is either gained or lost. Roles and Responsibilities If ownership, authority, and accountability are unclear, confusion multiplies quickly. Work overlaps. Decisions stall. Finger-pointing increases. Teams become dependent on personalities instead of structure. Clear roles create alignment and reduce organizational drag. Policies and Procedures Without disciplined processes, companies default to improvisation. Important work gets handled differently depending on who is involved, which creates inconsistency, inefficiency, and avoidable risk. Clear procedures make the business more repeatable, scalable, and transferable. Metrics and Goals If nobody can clearly define what success looks like, accountability becomes subjective and emotional. Metrics create visibility. Goals create alignment. Together, they allow leadership to manage proactively instead of reactively. This is what I often refer to as clarity at the core: clarity around roles and responsibilities clarity around policies and procedures clarity around metrics and goals Most growing businesses are not struggling from lack of effort. They are struggling from lack of organizational clarity. Leadership Creates Pull. Governance Creates Traction. Leadership and governance are connected, but they are not the same thing. Leadership creates vision, energy, belief, and direction. In many ways, leadership acts as the pull mechanism of the organization. People move toward clarity, confidence, and conviction. But leadership alone is not enough. Governance is what converts vision into operational traction. It aligns strategy with execution. It translates priorities into systems, accountability, communication rhythms, and measurable outcomes. Leadership without governance often creates motion without alignment. Governance without leadership creates structure without momentum. Strong organizations require both. Policy Deployment Is the Real Test The real test of governance is policy deployment. It is one thing for ownership to say what matters. It is another thing entirely for the organization to consistently behave accordingly. Policy deployment means the signal from leadership actually reaches the rest of the company. People understand expectations. They understand process. They understand decision rights. They understand accountability. They understand how performance is measured. That is when governance stops being theoretical and starts becoming operational discipline. What Governance Looks Like in Practice Consider a CPA firm attempting to expand advisory services. The partners all support the idea, but each partner defines advisory differently. Staff receive mixed messaging. Clients experience inconsistency. Energy exists, but alignment does not. Governance forces clarity: What exactly is the offering? Who owns it? What is the delivery model? How is success measured? Now consider a custom home builder. Project managers use different spreadsheets, pricing assumptions, and approval processes. The company stays busy, but profitability visibility weakens and decision-making becomes inconsistent. Governance standardizes reporting, approvals, job costing, and accountability. The owner begins regaining visibility and control. Or take a landscaping company where sales, production, and billing have fallen out of rhythm as growth accelerated. The owner becomes the traffic cop for every issue. Governance creates operational rhythm. It clarifies handoffs, decision-making, accountability, and performance expectations. The business starts functioning as an enterprise instead of a collection of moving parts dependent on the owner. Why Governance Matters to Owners Most owners feel pressure in three areas: growth control transferability They want growth without chaos. They want control without becoming trapped in every decision. They want enterprise value without remaining the sole operating system of the company. Governance supports all three. It creates structure around growth. It improves visibility and accountability. It reduces dependency on individual personalities. And it increases transferability because the business becomes more institutionalized and less owner-dependent. This is why governance is not a luxury for larger companies. It is one of the foundational drivers of sustainability, scalability, and long-term enterprise value in private businesses. Final Thought When a business feels heavier than it should, the problem is often not effort. It is structure. The organization may have talented people, good intentions, and strong market demand, but without governance, complexity eventually overwhelms clarity. Strengthen the spine and the business starts functioning differently. Communication improves. Decision-making accelerates. Accountability becomes clearer and fairer. Execution becomes more consistent. Growth becomes more manageable. Transferability becomes more realistic. That is governance in plain English. Governance is the structural discipline that allows a business to scale, operate, and endure.

Local Knowledge The art of blending in and knowing which way your putt will break Golfers use a phrase that doesn’t get talked about enough in business – “local knowledge.” It’s the quiet advantage of the people who play a course every week. They know how the greens roll. They know where the wind shifts in the late afternoon. They know which putts break in ways that don’t make sense unless you’ve tried to navigate those greens a hundred times. When I lived in Connecticut I was a member of a country club there for many years. One of the strange things members knew was that many of the greens on the golf course would subtly break toward an out of sight highway that runs alongside the course at the base of a valley. Why? Who knows. Most likely it has to do with the topography and watershed that’s been in place for millions of years. You can design greens and prop them up, but the land still remembers where gravity wants to go. Guest players would read the green one way. Members knew better. That’s local knowledge. I was reminded of the local knowledge concept recently in my current home of South Carolina. I’m a member of a private club near where I live. A recent Friday afternoon I found a break in my schedule and snuck away my office work to play eighteen holes. Unfortunately, my home course was unavailable due to a members-only tournament going on that I couldn’t commit to due to my work schedule and the two best public courses nearby had no tee times on short notice. So, I ended up at a local course that carries golf legend Arnold Palmer’s name. I’ll just say this: if Arnold Palmer were alive today, I’m not sure he’d be thrilled to see his name on this establishment which I’ll just say was a “dog run” at best. Still, it was a beautiful early spring afternoon despite my early spring allergies and I was able to remain at a safe distance from a couple of alligators on the course. I’ve found I don’t mind the allergies when I’m playing well, and that was the case on this day. Then I reached the 12th tee where four wild turkeys were holding court on the tee box. One of them had its feathers fully fanned out like a peacock. I was enthralled with my up- close encounter with nature. I reached for my phone to snap a photo and then the gang of turkeys started gobbling at me with displeasure. They started walking toward me and their gobbles got more intense. The turkeys were behaving aggressively trying to intimidate me off their territory. I naively laughed. Then I realized these birds were serious. They were coming at me, and they were faster than my golf cart. At that moment I began to consider the possibility that I might spend my Friday afternoon tangling with a gang of turkeys. Then I noticed reinforcements coming in. More turkeys sprinting toward the tee box from the fairway intent on helping their comrades. So I made a strategic decision. I skipped the 12th hole and as I looked back, seven of the turkey thugs were gaining on me. When I got to the 13th tee, things weren’t looking any better. A trio of these gang gobblers were patrolling the 13th fairway daring me to set foot on their turf. That’s when a friendly younger couple playing behind me caught up to me. They had a confident swagger— the kind of people who seem like they don’t usually get rattled. They were rattled. They asked politely if they could jump ahead to the 14th hole. I said, “Sure, but I’m also happy to let you play through.” Their response: “We live here. We play here all the time. The turkeys are unusually aggressive and territorial. They never let us play #13. This afternoon they’re also on #12.” Then they added: “If you don’t see them, it doesn’t mean they’re gone. They hide in the brush and come running out” to defend their turf. Local knowledge. Sure enough, the couple skipped the 13th hole and I followed them. Later, I joked to a friend that I took the liberty of scoring a par on both of the turkey-cancelled holes. He asked: “Dan, if you parred the next hole would that mean you scored a turkey?” There’s a business lesson in all of this. Many markets operate exactly like those turkeys. From the outside, everything looks open. Friendly. Logical. Accessible. Then you step onto the tee box. And suddenly the locals start gobbling. Some markets are deeply parochial. They trust people who are “from here.” They work with firms that share their geography, their relationships, their background and their culture. Providence, Rhode Island is famous for this provincialism. I once pitched a significant opportunity there and the CEO of the company, who wanted to hire my firm, introduced me to his team of decisionmakers as being “from down Killingly way” — referencing a Connecticut town just across the border from Rhode Island. I had the full support of the CEO, but didn’t get the project. I wasn’t one of them. I once pursued an engagement with an accounting firm in Portland, Oregon that was planning to expand regionally. During the conversation a partner asked me a question that, in hindsight, was signaling to the group he was done with me. “Dan, what do you know about living in Portland and how will you relate to us?” I should have responded: “What do you know about integrating and running a firm in Boise, Idaho? Because that’s one of the cities you want to expand into.” But I didn’t. I live in South Carolina, eleven miles from Savannah. Local enough, right? Not quite. If someone hears that I’m originally from Chicago or Connecticut — or even worse, from just across the border in South Carolina — the social doors close quickly. Boston and Philadelphia can be the same way. Ironically, Boston gives me a pass because I was once a partner in a Boston-based CPA firm. Having that credential under my belt makes me a Bostonian. Tribal membership confirmed. Local knowledge matters. Local markets have a unique terrain just like every golf course does. There are invisible slopes that respect history, relationships, cultural norms, and regional pride. Visitors often misread the green. Locals know how the ball will break. But there’s another lesson here. Sometimes the outsider with the fresh perspective is the one who can provide the most effective and objective advice. Good advisors know two important things: 1. They respect the local knowledge. 2. They have the courage to bring perspective from outside the echo chamber. Without that courage, you may just fall victim to the “turkeys” blocking your ability to bring great value to your client. Conclusion Local knowledge is an advantage, but it can also bury you in the inertia trap. The best advisors respect the terrain, know when the turkeys are hiding, and still have the courage to call the break differently when it matters most.

What if the future of accounting isn’t about compliance, but about courage? In a recent episode of Codified Wisdom, I sat down to share my journey from a daydreaming high school student to CPA, firm partner, and founder of Integrated Growth Advisors. We talked about the profession’s evolutionary turning point, why advisory is no longer optional, and how AI is elevating — not replacing — the role of the trusted advisor. We also explored leadership lessons, the power of seeing around corners, and why stepping outside your comfort zone (yes, even into improv comedy) might be the key to growth. If you're navigating change in the accounting profession — or leading through transformation — this conversation is for you. Ep. 13: The Evolution of a CPA: Shifting to Advisory with Dan McMahon - YouTube

I’ve learned something important about competence. Sometimes what feels like competence is just projection. And projecting a false reality, especially when under pressure, is dangerous. As business owners and CEOs, we build confidence over years of repetition. We develop instincts. We create patterns that work. We get predictable outcomes. And over time, something subtle happens. We begin to believe the outcomes are because of us — not the conditions around us. And when life destabilizes us—chaos or a loss in our personal life, business downturn, market disruption—we don’t always slow down. We tend to speed up and hope to move quickly past our instability. When faced with adversity, we tend to make hasty decisions and sometimes convince ourselves that motion equals progress. It often doesn’t. That motion may actually be busyness masquerading as forward movement. I have learned this lesson the hard way. Let me illustrate by sharing a story. What follows actually happened. I later performed it in The Moth storytelling format — I’ll share that link at the end. I remember when I was living in Connecticut, a late winter day above 40 degrees. The sky was overcast. The air was damp and it had an early springtime feel to it. This is a perfect day, I thought to myself, to take my newly adopted pup Nina – an affectionate chocolate lab whose Petfinder profile said she was a ‘water dog’ - out to the local pond for a swim. Before giving you the outcome, I should mention this was at a critical juncture in my life. I had just finalized a messy divorce and recently lost O’Malley, an amazing golden lab who had proven to be my best friend over the years. I was impatient to get my old life back. O’Malley was incredibly obedient, predictable, and always under my control. I assumed it was because I understood dogs. I considered myself something of a dog whisperer. Little did I know on that late winter day that my impatience (and hubris) almost cost me my life and Nina was going to take center stage in this saga. After a mile-plus hike through the slushy Connecticut woods, Nina and I arrived at the local pond anxious to play fetch. But I realized I had left what I will call the ‘retrieval device’—aka a tennis ball—in the back seat of my car. I shuddered at the thought of wasting another hour to hike to the car and back simply to get a tennis ball. At this time of my life, patience was not one of my virtues. So, I decided to let Nina off leash and she went straight for the water, splashing with pure joy. It was fun for me to share this special moment with Nina. But that special moment became 30 more consecutive moments. “NINA! NINA COME! NINA GET OVER HERE!” I screamed. But no matter how loudly I yelled, she wouldn’t come. Then, a water snake swam past Nina’s snout. Naturally, she gave chase, and the next thing I knew, she was swimming 150 yards offshore. Those anxious seconds turned into minutes. As more time passed, it became clear she wasn’t going to listen to me. I thought to myself, “what the heck is wrong with her !!!” Fast forward 40 minutes later, and she’s still in the frigid water, but now swimming in tight circles. I thought to myself: “My newly adopted dog is not going to die today because of my own incompetence!” So, I scanned the pond for a way to get closer to where Nina was swimming. I spotted a path to the right that was protected by tall grasses, swaying in the breeze and yellowed by the dead of winter. I sprinted to that spot and in the magnitude of the moment, I stripped down to my boxer shorts. Barefoot and shivering in the cold damp air not even thinking about how ridiculous I must have looked, I went in to save her. The water was freezing cold. My chest contracted and pressed inwards. The water smelled like sewage and my toes slipped through the slimy mud at the bottom of the pond. But I kept churning through the muck toward Nina. When I got to within six inches of her, she turned and bolted for shore without giving me a second look. Nina wasn’t in danger. This was just a game for her! So, I trudged back to shore and took off in pursuit of Nina, running barefoot across a field of thornbushes that I barely felt because my feet were so numb. Just as I was about to catch up to Nina, she jumped back into the frigid water. Awkwardly, I followed. Just then, I spotted a family walking by on a nearby trail. Seeing me in distress, the father whistled for Nina. He whistled. She came. Why didn’t I think to whistle! I lugged my pasty white body out of the pond to retrieve Nina. I was embarrassed and full of guilt but also relieved to have her back. We all were speechless and I managed to whisper a gracious “thank you” to the family. On the car ride home, I looked over at Nina sitting upright in the passenger seat. She was soaking wet and smiling ear to ear. I had gone into the frigid pond to rescue my drowning dog. But what was actually drowning that afternoon wasn’t Nina. It was the illusion that I was in control. My Reflection Looking back, I wasn’t trying to rescue my dog. I was trying to rescue my sense of control. I had projected my history with O’Malley onto Nina. I skipped preparation because it felt inefficient. I confused speed with focus, and I paid for it. That afternoon at the pond became a metaphor for working thru chaos. When we rush to regain stability… When we assume past wins transfer automatically… When we ignore small disciplines because they feel inconvenient… We don’t just risk embarrassment. We risk losing control of the very thing we’re trying to protect. And often, what’s actually drowning isn’t the business. It’s our illusion that we’re still in control of it. If you would like to see my performance of this story, click the following link and find my five-minute story at the 8:55 time marker: https://www.youtube.com/live/5-wdeIkmGQw?si=0_J7qgbwG_RIOhKy

As private equity reshapes the accounting landscape and traditional partnership models strain under talent shortages and succession challenges, strong governance has become the real differentiator. By replacing ad hoc decision-making with clear roles, accountability, performance metrics and disciplined planning, firms can turn chaos into clarity and intention into execution. Read more in Dan McMahon's latest article published in TXCPA here: Governance is Your Growth Engine: Build Value and Outrun Private Equity