Reflections - Finding the Balance (Part2)

“Coming together is a beginning,

staying together is progress,

and working together is success.”

Henry Ford

Milledgeville Presbyterian Church

 

 

 

My heart felt as heavy as the box I lugged up the church ramp. The joy of balancing the state fund in two days had evaporated when Sandi, the new auditor, predicted we would finish by the end of the week. I’d mumbled, “The general funds usually take longer,” and hoped for a miracle. After auditing four years, I had to lead my inexperienced coworkers through balancing the French Creek Township accounts. Had Nancy, the head auditor for decades, taught me enough before she died of dementia?

I dumped the box of financial records on the table in the Milledgeville Presbyterian Church’s classroom, pulled off my coat, and joined the others.

Resting her sling on a pillow, Sandi wiggled her pen back and forth. “Where do we start?”

Carol straightened in her chair and raised her eyebrows.

“We’ll audit expenses after writing down the general fund’s beginning balance. It’s on Gretchen’s January reconciliation sheet.” Forcing a confident smile, I grabbed my calculator. “We can verify the balance against the January bank statements.”  

Fingers tapped calculators. Sandi reported. “There's a three hundred ninety-seven dollars and seventy-two cents difference.” 

Carol’s mouth formed an O.

I bit my lip. 

“I gather you weren’t expecting that.” Sandi adjusted the ice pack on her shoulder, the site of recent surgery. 

“No, but we have to start with the number Nancy submitted to PSATS last year.” I flipped through the files. “Gretchen gave me a copy of that report.”

“I have it.” Carol waved a report. “Nancy gave me one.” The balance on Carol’s report didn’t match the bank’s or reconciliation’s. 

My report’s balance matched the reconciliation’s. 

We scanned the reports. Everything was the same except the summaries and cover dates. I headed a paper with QUESTIONS and scribbled which beginning balance. “I’ll email PSATS later.” Pulling out files, I said, “Expenses ladies.”

Ruler in hand, Carol accepted the computer ledgers. Sandi took the bank statements, and I grabbed the folder of January bills. Expense by expense, Carol marked her ledger with pink dots, Sandi made left-handed checks, and I wrote cleared-dates.

Sandi worked quickly. She blurted out the number and amount for the next check before Carol and I finished marking. Sandi reminded me of Mr. McFeely, the Speedy Delivery mail carrier on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Carol and I were plodders. Inside my head, I hummed, “I like to take my time and do it right.”

Our list of questions grew. Could Gretchen get credit for tax paid on gravel and for an overpayment when she transposed numbers? Why did the ledger assign several checks duplicate numbers?

We also learned about each other’s families. Carol’s daughter worked as a missionary in Slovakia. Sandi was sewing a quilt for her two-year-old grandson. And Carol spoke for us all when she said, “Taking a bathroom break was never so pleasant.” Sandi’s sister had painted a floral border near the ceiling brightening tedious auditing tasks.

 

Floral Border in Church Bathroom

By the end of the first week we’d followed the general fund paper trail for bills, the debit card, and bank transfers. We even made a dent in revenues—not finishing like Sandi had expected but progress. All three auditors followed every step, and Friday's clean up brought a surprise. Sandi softly sang, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” Was she a mind reader as well as speedy?

The following Monday, with Sandi on a three-day trip to Pittsburgh for medical appointments, I took our questions to Gretchen. Seated by her sofa-size desk, I confessed. “Jennifer from PSATS said to use your report balance, but I’m confused. Why were there three different beginning balances?”

Gretchen opened the PSATS email on her computer. “Last year, Nancy entered the January first balance instead of December thirty-first. Jennifer changed it.” 

Gretchen’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Nancy insisted I change my balance sheet to match that number instead of the actual bank balances.” Gretchen stared at her lap. “I’d only been secretary-treasurer for two months. She’d been an auditor for more than twenty years.” Gretchen sniffed. “I didn’t understand, but I did what she told me.”

“It’s okay. Nancy could be insistent.” I rubbed Gretchen’s arm. Had Nancy known what she was doing, or was she confused? “She must have been trying to compensate for the public auditors changing the beginning balance years back.”

Gretchen pulled up a reconciliation document. “Nancy added three hundred ninety-seven dollars and seventy-two cents in August twenty-twenty, but took it out this February. Why did she make me change my bank balance?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll balance your actual accounts. Then we’ll deal with the legacy issues so they’ll stop haunting us.” I didn’t add, if I can figure out what Nancy had tried to do and work a miracle.

The other questions on the list didn’t need miracles. Gretchen fixed them in minutes.

At the church that afternoon, Carol and I started on payroll. “I’m glad Sandi isn’t here to see how clueless we are,” I said. 

Carol studied the ledgers while I inspected state quarterly folders and payroll checking statements. We juggled net and gross amounts then divided each check among various codes—snow removal, road repairs, and holiday pay. We even finished auditing the general revenues.

On the ninth day of the audit, Sandi joined us to begin the part Nancy always did alone—filling in the report worksheet. We added the amounts for each code, checked them against Gretchen’s trial balance, and wrote the totals in appropriate boxes. Manageable, until page twenty-two which had separate lines for the dreaded liabilities. Nancy had put numbers on the line for unemployment compensation and the line for worker compensation insurance. We only found unemployment compensation. And our number was twice as large as her combined numbers.

Sandi adjusted the strap on her sling. “Nancy didn’t do you any favors working on her own. You’re both clueless.”

So much for working on payroll while Sandi was away.

That night, I emailed Gretchen for a detailed list of the withholdings. The new papers, that I picked up on the way to the church, didn’t show workers comp and increased the amount. 

Rubbing my forehead, I said, “We know the liabilities are wrong, but let’s do a balance to see how far we’re off. That amount will provide a clue for what we're missing.”

Carol and Sandi exchanged worried glances but picked up their calculators. Off by more than seventeen thousand meant liabilities wasn’t the only problem. I kept that to myself.

Sandi tapped her worksheet. “It says employer contributions. We put in workers’ contributions too.” 

“Right. About a third was from employers. Another third was already reported with worker’s pay. But that last third is a mystery.” 

The next day I drove to Gretchen’s. Again.

“Our insurance covers workers comp. It’s not in the liability folders.” She scrolled down her computer screen. “And you’re right. You shouldn’t add the employee . . . Gosh! Why is Dan’s withholding so large on this check?” She clicked. An enlarged check stub appeared in the corner. “Oh, no. I coded it wrong. The whole check went under withholding. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” I exhaled in relief. “That’s why townships elect auditors.”

But I worried. In the wee hours, auditing nightmares woke me. I couldn’t get back to sleep. The next morning I peered at Sandi through blurry eyes. “Carol, er Sandi, call the numbers for us and we’ll try balancing again.” I’d known these women for several years and hadn’t confused their names. Putting them at the table together sparked many blunders.

Sandi called the numbers and announced, “We’re off by five hundred forty-one dollars and twenty-one cents.”

“That number sounds familiar.” I reached for the folder of computer ledgers and handed several to Carol and Sandi. “Look for that amount.”

 

Auditing Tools

Silently, the ladies ran their rulers down the lists. Had I sent them on a fool’s errand? 

“Found it.” Sandi tapped the ledger. “And it isn’t checked.”

Taking the ledger from Sandi, I studied the listing. “Carol, wasn’t the Segworth plow repair in the state funds?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

I grabbed the spiral notebook and leafed through to the page with codes. Under 437, I’d written S 541.21. I shimmed in my chair and shrieked, “Yes!”

Carol and Sandi exchanged a there-she-goes-again look.

“Soooooo,” Carol said. “What does it mean?”

“It means the bill is listed in both the state and general funds. I hope it doesn’t change the state fund. That already balanced.” I ran my hand through my thinning hair. “I’ll email Gretchen tonight and pick the new paperwork up in the morning.”

The next day I passed out Gretchen’s latest trial balance. “The good news is the state funds didn’t change.” I took a deep breath. “But we need to recalculate the general fund.”

We did and Sandi blurted, “One hundred seventy dollars and eighty-six cents.” 

That number didn’t sound familiar.

Sandi raised her pen. “I think it might be in the January bank statement.” We looked. It wasn’t.

Carol pointed to the records box. “Maybe it’s a reality transfer.” 

By the end of the day, we’d chased every lead the ladies suggested. None worked. 

March 1, I trudged up the church ramp, yet again, fearing we would never find the balance.

Sandi wiggled in her chair. “What do we do now?”

Lacking a magic wand, I handed out the ledgers. “We look for something we missed.”

“Again?” Carol wrinkled her forehead. 

“Again.” I took off my glasses and squinted at the tiny print on the ledger. 

Papers crinkled. Carol’s chair scraped and her footsteps echoed down the hall.

“Hey.” I grabbed Sandi’s arm. “There’s an expense that’s not marked. Check the trial balance. Does it have a line for code four hundred ninety-three?”

Sandi scanned the sheet. “No.”

“But, it’s on the ledger.” My heart pounded. “Quick, add this to the expenses.” I put a shaking finger under the number and shoved the paper at Sandi. I was too nervous to read it. “Then subtract it from the beginning balance and the revenues.”

Sandi did. “I get three hundred ninety-seven dollars and seventy-two cents.”

“That’s the extra money Nancy identified,” I whispered. Jumping out of my chair, I screamed, “CAROL! We found it. It balances!”

A few minutes later, Carol strolled back. “You would wait till I took a bathroom break to find it.” We cracked up with bonding, never-to-be-forgotten, belly laughs.

Having balanced Gretchen’s accounts, we coded the legacy money as a prior year expense, subtracted it from Gretchen’s books, and prepared the audit report. 

After Gretchen and I submitted the report electronically, the auditors met in her dining room to sign the paperwork. 

Sandi sat without her arm in a sling. Carol stood rocking from foot to foot. Gretchen fetched pens and copied papers. Each thanked each other for their help and cooperation many, many times. And me?

Leaning against the back of a chair, I watched the baby sleep in his swing and the little girl play with her blocks on the floor. Gratitude overwhelmed me. Gratitude these women worked together as a team. Gratitude I got a miracle. Gratitude that I don’t have to lug the heavy box up the church ramp until next year.

Audit Report