I wrote last week that I had planned a post about taxes. It would have been more appropriate on April 15, but as I wrote, a friend’s death trumped taxes. Still, taxes must be paid, so here is my post.
For twelve years, I stayed with the same accountant.
That sentence, on its own, sounds like a testament to loyalty—a long-term relationship that worked well for both parties. But in truth, it was not. On my part, I stayed due to inertia.
From the very beginning, I knew my personality didn’t mesh well with the accountant’s. I felt confident in his knowledge of the tax regulations. But from our first meeting, he was way to eager to schmooze. And I am not.
Plus, he was a poor communicator—slow to respond to phone calls and emails. I’d give him my documents, and nothing for weeks, even as the April 15 deadline approached.
His customer service skills were poor. He told me once that he didn’t bother to review my draft return after one of his subordinates had completed it, because “I knew you [meaning me] would catch any problems.” And believe me, I caught the problems—the same ones that had been on the prior year’s returns. What was I paying him for, if not to review his subordinate’s work? I should have fired him then.
His tax firm acquired other offices in towns around Kansas City. After the first acquisition, I told myself that the fact that his firm had merged with the tax provider that my mother-in-law used was an advantage. Then the firm merged with a bigger firm. Their systems changed, and not for the better. I couldn’t get anyone in the larger firm to address my problems with their system. I’m pretty competent on the computer, but I can’t see inside their programming.
So each year, as tax season approached, I braced myself for our encounters, rather than feeling reassured that I had a professional working for me.
And yet, year after year, I stayed.
Why? Because changing felt harder than staying. Because finding someone new meant research, phone calls, explaining our situation all over again. Because “good enough” felt like good enough.
So I stuck with him. For twelve years.
But on our 2025 returns, right after my husband and I moved, the firm made a royal error—they told me my payment was not due until October, when in truth it was due in April. That cost me money in interest and penalties.
I’d already decided that because of our move, I would finally switch accountants. I wanted someone I could go see in person and yell at if there were mistakes or delays.
After soliciting neighbors’ recommendations and making a few phone interviews, I selected a new accountant, someone local in Seattle. From the outset, the difference has been noticeable. I’ve never met this guy, but I know where his office is—an easy drive from our apartment. He communicates well, both on the phone and via email. His portal is easy to use, though his one-page “organizer” was inadequate to organizing our documents. Still, I could upload everything, and he managed to make sense of the documents. (I hope.)
And, most importantly, our tax return was filed on April 1—the earliest it’s been since the days when I did them myself using TurboTax. I found no errors in the draft he sent me. There was no drama. I still had to pay gobs of money to the taxing authorities, but the process was easy. Or at least, easier that with my schmoozer.
And that’s when I realized—I really should have changed accountants many years earlier.
I have a pattern of staying with things too long. I’ve stayed in jobs longer than I should have, long after I knew they weren’t the right fit. I’ve continued volunteer commitments out of obligation rather than engagement with the organization’s mission.
In each case, the same reasoning applied. The situation wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t quite right—and changing felt like too much effort. Inertia ruled.
But when I think back, the times I’ve been happiest are the times when I didn’t stay out of inertia, when I recognized that something wasn’t working and quickly stepped away. The decisions weren’t always easy in the moment, but I could move on to better uses of my time.
Staying too long with something has a cost—low-level dissatisfaction and a draining of energy. Over time, “not quite right” becomes normal, and we forget that things could feel better.
Of course, there’s value in perseverance. Not every difficulty is a sign to leave. The challenge is learning to distinguish between something that is hard because it’s worth it and something that is hard because it’s a bad fit.
The Serenity Prayer applies here as in so many aspects of life:
God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And Wisdom to know the difference.
I pray for wisdom every day—in choosing what to do, and in choosing what NOT to do.
When have you stuck with something for too long?
