SANDY

Years ago, after this writer had succeeded in working up to a middle management position with a prominent (albeit now extinct) public accounting firm, a certain personally memorable incident took place. Minor in many respects though it was, the eventual outcome remains unknown, and holds to this day a considerable amount of wonderment.

The event occurred back in that era not too far beyond World War II and Korea, when every young lad recently having finished his formal education fell subject to military draft. As new staff members were brought in from various universities each autumn, the expectation was that, one-by-one, we’d soon be losing them temporarily. Nevertheless, their forerunners would be due to return as replacements.

Among our younger personnel one year was a promising lad named Sanford Weisman, known to his cohorts as Sandy. His military number had come up, with a departure date only a few weeks off. How many more senior people he sought advice from in his particular situation isn’t known. Anyway, this writer happened to be among them.

Sandy had been assigned to the Air Force. At the time, as he explained, the option lay open either to try for flying duty or restrict his activities to ground crew participation. This was a key decision, and he asked for help in making it.

If he chose to fill out his service days on the ground, the term would be two years. However, should he endeavor to and succeed in becoming a flyer, he’d be required to sign up for five. Consequently, being away for the longer period would delay his career as a budding income tax accountant rather unduly.

The obvious question he posed, therefore, dealt with returning to the accountancy world as quickly as possible, or else playing the odds of becoming a pilot for a longer service stay.

Again, lacking any knowledge as to what course others may have advised Sandy to take, this fellow’s reply to the lad’s puzzlement became swiftly obvious. The words used to counsel him are still vividly remembered, and are quoted below.

“Sandy, do you want to get in and out of the service as expediently as possible, rather than seek a more useful military job? Would you like spending the rest of your life looking skyward whenever a plane flies over, and telling yourself you might have been up there too, but had turned down the chance?

Should this situation be repeated today, many decades afterward, the advice tendered wouldn’t be altered by a single word. It was sincerely offered and the absolutely correct thing to say, beyond all doubt.

A few days later, the conversation with Sandy was related on separate occasions to two of the firm’s high-ranking partners. Sworn bean-counters to the very end, both of them displayed the same indignant reaction. Once again, their words still ring loudly.

“Well,” each gentleman stated in somewhat of a huff, “Sandy had better decide pretty soon whether he wants to be an accountant or a pilot!”

An accountant or a pilot indeed. How many of us have ever had that choice laid before us? Not many. Given such option, this writer would have likely debated roughly five seconds before coming up with the answer. What’s the sense of settling for a “what might have been” result?

People who hold strong devotion toward being accountants above all else are of a certain mind. This particular fellow doesn’t happen to fall within their ranks.

We can’t help but remain forever curious whether Sandy Weisman did or not.