Mowing in the Name of Citrus

I am sitting in my financial management class on a Saturday morning that came up on me way too quickly. This course, only two weeks young, has proven rather entertaining, as the professor rewards the witty by cleverly mocking those who deserve to be mocked. Pull no punches. I think that once you reach college-level education and beyond, those you knowingly ask silly questions should be open game for professors who must endure them. “There are no stupid questions?” Ok, fine, but only if such questions set the prof up for a slam dunk punch line.

Teaching methods in the accounting and finance fields are pretty standard. As they both function essentially as applied sciences, professors cannot get too creative when it comes to method of instruction. Dead Poets Society, accounting is not. You cannot do ratio analysis while standing on your desk, nor can you compute dividends while kicking a soccer ball and listening to classical music. Mr. Keating would probably implode in front of the class due to the subject’s rigidity. Not good.

Accounting is taught in two veins: for companies that produce goods or services. Each type of business is taught using the same model: apply the laws of accounting to a real-world example. And no matter what teacher, what classroom, what college, whatever, those real-world examples ARE always the same:

“Suppose you want to have a lawn mowing business…”
“You want to start your own lemonade stand…”

Apparently, every single rule of accounting can be explained by either selling a watered-down citrus product or by keeping your neighbors landscaping trim. Who knew?

Now most of you probably haven’t realized this, as entry-level accounting classes are reserved for those who want to pursue a business career or lost some sort of tragic bet. But as a veteran of several of these courses, I can totally vouch. If you are to understand how to balance sheets, state income, or make cash, um, flow, you’re going to do it by pretending to run your own lemonade stand or by firing up the old mower.

What if?

I sit here wondering if we would have been better off had these been the only two new venture offerings for aspiring moneymakers. What if you could only start a lemonade stand or mow lawns, and no other products and services were offered in the world (at least for compensation). What kind of world would we live in if you could only have one of two jobs? Would it be that much different?

Wow, that was three open-ended questions in a row. Sorry. We’ll just called it a “Liz Grimm Homage.”

First off, going to work would be simple. Half of the population would leave work every morning to cut the grass of the world. Granted, without the need for skyscrapers, store fronts, or well, any place of business that is not a stand with icy pitchers of lemonade, there would be a LOT more lawn. Enough lawn for everybody who seeks employment. I assume professional baseball would still exist (players wouldn’t be paid to play), but since there’s lawn in the outfield, there’s still a need. Soccer should make a rousing comeback as well.

When those who mow lawns get tired, there is relief! They simply turn off the engine and walk over to their local lemonade stand, which I fully expect to be on more street corners than Starbucks. (Actually, they may just take all of Starbucks’ current locations. Same difference.) These people make money by quenching the thirst of the lawnmowers (people, not the equipment) They go home, have big houses from their earnings, with you guessed it – spacious front and back yards. Cyclical, no?
I’m sure I’m leaving out an assumption or two, but I think I’ve got it covered. Oh, there’s one more thing that you can count on.

No Enron-like accounting scandals. Hard to screw-up entry-level.