In the mid-2000s, California stood at the threshold of a digital revolution. The market dominance of cable providers had led to stagnation in pricing, service options, and infrastructure innovation. That status quo was disrupted by a sweeping piece of legislation—AB 2987, The Digital Infrastructure and Video Competition Act of 2006. Behind this bill was an unlikely coalition of labor leaders, business associations, elected officials, consumer advocates, and telecommunications providers. I had the opportunity to work within AT&T’s California public affairs team at the time, helping craft and communicate the policy case for a new era of competition and digital access.

The story of AB 2987 is not just a legislative triumph—it is a case study in coalition building, rapid regulatory adaptation, and the challenging task of aligning public interest with private enterprise. It revealed how state-level action can catalyze infrastructure investment and open markets once deemed monopolistic.

The Problem: Monopoly by Default

For decades, local governments issued city-by-city cable franchises—an antiquated process that resulted in limited competition and geographically uneven coverage. Consumers in many communities had only one option for pay-TV services. Cable bills soared, service remained static, and technological innovation lagged.

At the same time, AT&T and other telecom carriers were investing billions in broadband infrastructure—laying the groundwork for IP-based services, from internet and digital voice to streaming television. The regulatory problem? Telecoms still needed approval in every locality to compete with entrenched cable providers, even when their technology offered new capabilities and better pricing.

The Catalyst: A New Vision for California

Assembly Speaker Fabian Núñez introduced AB 2987 in early 2006, backed by a broad and bipartisan group of stakeholders. The legislation proposed a single, statewide video franchise process administered by the California Public Utilities Commission (CPUC). Instead of negotiating dozens or even hundreds of local agreements, a new entrant could now receive authorization in 30 days and begin delivering services across the state.

It was a sea change in telecommunications law. But it was not without controversy.

Consumer groups were initially skeptical, concerned that rural and low-income communities might be left behind. Cities worried about losing franchise fee revenues or local control over rights-of-way. PEG (Public, Education, and Government) access proponents feared a loss of funding.

In my role, I helped shape public narratives and informational resources for use in community meetings, council hearings, and media interviews. Much of our messaging centered on the theme of Choice. Competition. Consumer Savings. The aim was to show that reform didn’t mean deregulation—it meant modernization.

The Politics: Building the Coalition

Over 250 organizations came out in support of the bill. These included powerhouse labor unions like the California Labor Federation and the Communications Workers of America (CWA); major employers such as Intel, Microsoft, and Alcatel; and civic groups like the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) and the National Council on Aging.

Editorial boards from the San Francisco Chronicle to the Los Angeles Times voiced support. Each publication focused on the same theme: consumers stood to save real money—up to $1 billion per year—if video competition could take hold.

As part of the AT&T California external affairs team, we helped orchestrate meetings, fielded public inquiries, and delivered updates to stakeholders. We translated dense policy into accessible language. We highlighted job growth estimates: over 10,000 new positions, especially in construction, engineering, and IT. And we underscored that PEG funding, franchise fees, and consumer protections would not only remain but be strengthened.

The Outcome: Law and Legacy

AB 2987 passed both the Assembly and the Senate with overwhelming bipartisan support. On September 29, 2006, it was signed into law by Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and became effective January 1, 2007.

The impact was immediate. Within five years, Californians saw new video services roll out across the state, from urban centers to rural towns. Infrastructure investment surged. Broadband speeds improved. And cable prices—long a point of consumer frustration—began to stabilize in competitive markets.

AT&T, for its part, invested an additional $1 billion into its "Project Lightspeed" initiative, which brought fiber deeper into neighborhoods and supported next-generation TV, digital voice, and faster internet access.

Lessons from the Field

I was in my early 30s at the time and had recently moved into a public affairs leadership role after supporting the SBC-AT&T merger from our California office. The AB 2987 effort taught me that policy change is possible when facts are paired with stories, and when corporate initiatives align with public benefit.

It also showed me how challenging—but rewarding—it can be to work at the nexus of business, technology, and public service. Whether presenting to local officials, coordinating with advocacy groups, or answering tough press inquiries, the goal was always the same: explain why this matters.

Sidebar: Lessons from the AB 2987 Campaign

• Coalition Power: Building unlikely partnerships (labor + business + civil rights) created momentum.
• Narrative Simplicity: “Choice. Competition. Consumer Savings.” proved more powerful than technical arguments.
• Equity Matters: The inclusion of anti-redlining and PEG funding provisions helped secure support from skeptical voices.
• Policy Literacy: Providing digestible explanations of franchise structures and consumer protections made it easier to build public support.
• Execution is Political: Even the best ideas must be sold, not just written into law.

As with the SBC-AT&T merger, the passage of AB 2987 was a moment where the telecom industry turned a corner. For California, it meant greater access, faster speeds, and a seat at the table in the broadband revolution.

For me, it was another chapter in learning how systems change—not overnight, but through the tireless, tactical work of aligning values, policies, and people.

The sun was bright that morning and the humidity oppressive. Clear skies and summertime in Kansas City make everyone sweat like an amphibian. With the sun up so quickly, being late is inescapable, even if it’s 8 am.

My father loves his coffee on the lighter side. Some might call it weak or something closer akin to tea. It is however, in no way a reflection of him. His personality is that of a double shot of espresso. I think he just doesn’t like the thought of his coffee more pronounced than his personality. You can learn a lot from someone in how they take their coffee. It's how they live their life in a nutshell.

Don't believe me? Just go to Starbucks. Regulars know their orders and they say it with confident definitiveness, like a statement of purpose or the Apostle's creed.

In Kansas, one of the local super-markets is named Hen House where an in-house, smaller version of the coffee monolith Starbucks resides. Entering through the sliding automatic entrance doors, immediately brings you to the line. There's always a line. Today, 6 people were ahead of me. All addicts like myself waiting to get their stimulants, orders ready. It's the waiting in line that kills you. It's an itching anticipation.

It was a venti day. Unshowered, glasses on, a mild case of body odor and athleisure attire, I waited in line with the apprehension of a person in a dream.

Then yelling.

“GOD DAMN IT, I HIT THE FREE AMOUNT! WHAT THE HELL?!”

This particular satellite Starbucks had a gallon club. It’s common in grocery stores. You join a coffee club and once you hit a certain amount, boom, a free cup of coffee. Obviously, someone was upset and the yelling snapped all of us waiting in line out of our dazed dream like a glass shattering.

“YOU ASSHOLE! WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?!”

It was jarring to see someone yelling at 8 am. I wasn’t ready for this. Most of the other customers were just standing there in disbelief and cowardly avoiding the unhinged lady yelling. She waved her receipt in hand like a flyswatter. It was confusing as to why this was such a big deal.

I looked ahead to see a girl, behind the counter wearing the iconic green apron with the siren on it. She was black around mid to late twenties. She had a nice smile, but it wasn’t showing. She was trying to calmly explain to the outraged woman that you needed to go beyond the gallon mark and then, only then, would the next coffee be free.

The angry woman wasn’t having any of it and continued to get louder and argue more.

There’s a point where you realize for a split second that the next set of decisions made will have consequences. Where you’re the one, from that point on, is responsible for the cascading events that happen next. I realized right then and there, I am my father’s son and he doesn’t tolerate rudeness.

I decided to engage her and shouted to overthrow her voice from the back of the line, “Hey lady! What in the world is wrong with you? Just who the hell do you think you are?!”

The angry woman up front, shorter and fatter looked at me like an animal assessing a threat - was I friend or foe? She decided for a moment to win me to her cause by waving the receipt towards me.

“I deserve a free coffee!” She is trying to cheat me out of it!”

Everything she claimed seemed irrelevant.

“I really don’t care," I said. "but am happy to buy you whatever coffee you want so long as you apologize to her. The way you’re talking is uncalled for.”

“Why don’t you just mind your own business! Who the hell are you?!” she yelled back to me.

“I'm the guy telling you you're acting like an asshole! I would love to mind my own business, but I’m the one having to listen to you act like a child. So apologize and let me buy you a coffee!”

The girl behind the counter looked at me. Still expressionless, but a little bit of appreciation for my outcry with an ever so slight smile.

The angry woman with the receipt found a new target for her fixation. Her eyes narrowed at me.

“I’m not apologizing and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up. I’ll kick your ass,” she warned.

“Really?!” I smiled in disbelief. “I’d like to see you try.”

“She’ll fuck you up and I’ll help her!” yelled some woman from out of nowhere. She was holding a baby in her right arm and a Starbucks coffee in left. I was flabbergasted, outnumbered and they both proceeded to advanced towards me.

I stared in disbelief. Heart pounding.

The lady with the receipt got to me first and attempted grab me. I evaded and pushed her hand and body away from me.

It was at that point I said, “Forget it, I’m out of here.”

No coffee was worth this.

Making a 180-degree turn I bolted out the automatic doors. I was driving my mother’s Saab 9-3 convertible and unlocked it. Walking as quickly as I could, the old martial arts mantra of “you win every fight you walk away from.” went through my head.

From behind, I hear shouting, “I just called my husband and he’s going to kick your ass!” I turned, it was the psycho with a baby in one hand and a coffee in another as she and her friend, receipt still in hand, followed me out to the parking lot. This was indeed Hen House - only these hens were angry.

“Yeah-Yeah...” I replied back dry in sarcasm. “I feel bad for him already if he’s married to you.”

That really got them angry. I suppose there was some small satisfaction in it. They continued to advance while yelling.

I got into the Saab 9-3 hatchback convertible and started the engine. I did not feel as tough as I wanted. Conflict like this always seemed to end in a way that is completely unsatisfactory. I readjusted my glasses and looked in the rearview mirror.

The angry lady with the receipt, still in hand, was blocking my ability to reverse. She stood directly behind my bumper and slammed her hand down on the trunk.

"Oh, hell no," I said putting the car into drive and pulled through the spot. I drove directly home, adrenalin up and in no way needing caffeine for energy. There was already a bitter taste in my mouth.

My father was in the kitchen, sipping coffee. My mother was still asleep.

I began to recount my story to him when there was a knock at the door.

It was a police officer. Oakley sunglasses, hands-on utility belt, chewing gum at an accelerated rate and asking if I could step outside for a moment and speak with him.

“Were you just at Hen House?” he asked with accusations authority.

“Yes.”

“May I see some identification please.”

He took my license.

“A lady is wanting to press assault charges. Why did you flee?”

In his mind, I was guilty.

I began to recount the story. Halfway through, there was an interruption on the speaker attached to his shoulder.

“You might want to ask if HE wants to press charges. The video footage makes it pretty clear she assaulted him.”

Later in the day, I had to get lemons. I decided to go back to Hen-House. It is funny how ghosts stay with us. Walking through those automatic doors, was like the trigger that the psycho angry lady with a receipt was still there, just around the corner. It was the gate on the horse track, the ring of a boxing bell, the gunshot of a track race. It’s important to fight those fears and even more important to embrace those fears because that is how you obtain courage. That is how fear becomes courage and then freedom.

Behind the cash register this time, not the Starbucks booth, was the girl that had been berated by the psycho angry lady with a receipt. My heart went out to her. She saw me, and smiled for the first time. It wasn’t so much a smile as a grin of appreciation. It was real, not something forced like when someone says “hello,” or “have a nice day” and it really was a pleasant smile. She closed her register, walked over and hugged me, as if I was an old friend.

“I need both these jobs and I couldn’t afford to get fired. I couldn’t say anything back. I appreciate you standing up for me,” she said.

“I couldn’t just let her talk to you like that,” I replied. “I don’t know why everyone else was just standing around. I felt like the crazy one.”

There was a short pause.

“Uh, would you like a cup of coffee? For free?” she asked with a smile.

In January of 2018, my father Carl and I bought a mobile home park in western Michigan. On paper, it was a real estate acquisition. In practice, it became an education, a crucible, and a father-son project I will treasure for the rest of my life.

Windmill Mobile Home Park was a 57-acre, 399-pad community in Holland Township, Michigan. Originally developed by the Hossink family in the 1960s, it had grown in stages until 1984, by which point every lot was filled. But time and entropy are undefeated, and by the time we arrived, Windmill had become a textbook case in deferred maintenance, with many pads empty. The infrastructure was decaying. The office had a sagging roof. Sewer manholes were literally pits in the dirt.

We bought it anyways.

The Buy

We structured the deal using a ROBS plan (Roll Over for Business Start-Up), a commercial loan, and equity from family trusts. We didn’t acquire just the land—we acquired the history, the baggage, and the opportunity to rebuild something meaningful.

The park was over 90% occupied, and we saw tremendous upside through infill, rehab, and better management. On the spreadsheet, it penciled.

But the spreadsheet didn’t capture what it would feel like to be the snow plow guy, the manager, the maintenance person, and a resident—all at once. It was like being the mayor, sherif and bartender of a small town.

What We Found

The truth is: we didn’t fully know what we had bought, despite our extensive due diligence. We discovered:

• Electrical lines patched with extension cords
• Sewer systems clogged with roots
• Water mains on the verge of collapse
• No maps, no shutoff zones, no diagrams
• A lighting system wired like spaghetti and half inoperative

One underground power line was so compromised it shorted and shut down half the park. When we fixed it, the electrician said: you’ve got eight more segments just like this. The water lines were galvanized steel, something that rusts from the inside out, unwrapped, corroding underground.

The Fix

But we didn’t flinch. We got to work. In 2018 alone:

• We rebuilt the sewer lift stations, fixed roofs, and repaired water leaks
• Cleared out a field and converted it to RV and trailer storage, which cleaned up the park and generated new revenue
• Removed dozens of dump truck loads of debris
• Spent significantly on tree trimming and infrastructure triage
• Repaired or replaced most park lighting and signage

We brought in over 30 homes—some new, some rehabbed. We sold them affordably, at a loss in many cases, but doing so brought new life and dignity to the community.

Our lot rent remained intentionally low—far below market. And we never evicted a tenant.

Living the Work

I lived in the park. I managed it personally. I knew every tenant by name. I plowed snow, chased off solicitors, answered maintenance calls, rebuilt the roads, ran payroll and the rent cycle. I sold homes, settled disputes with tenants and had my entire arm in go numb trying to shut off a water pipe more times than I care to remember. We built trust. That trust helped us keep rents at $350/month and gave the community a sense of pride.

We planted over 100 trees. We converted the old laundry room into a community space. Local churches came to host events—cider and donuts in the fall, bouncy houses for kids in the spring. We even donated one home to a church for its housing ministry.

We had plans to renovate the old bakery into a coffee shop. We fixed up the pole barn. We got it running again.

We were deeply embedded in the park—as owners, as neighbors, as fellow stewards.

Windmill Estates · 333 E Lakewood Blvd, Holland, MI 49424, Verenigde Staten

★★★★☆ · Stacaravanpark

Windmill Estates · 333 E Lakewood Blvd, Holland, MI 49424, Verenigde Staten

The Bureaucratic Reality

But in the midst of our work, we ran into something we couldn’t fix with sweat and capital: the local township.

What began as routine permit applications turned into Kafkaesque delays. Officials began rejecting home placements, questioning zoning, asking for historical documents that didn’t exist. Even a donated home, fully rehabbed, was subject to endless inspections and contradictions.

We hired lawyers. We filed demands. We hit a wall.

Townships say they want affordable housing. But they don’t treat mobile home parks like affordable housing. Apartments, with their higher assessed valuations, generate more property tax. MHPs? Less so.

I’ll keep this diplomatic: we encountered resistance that made continued infill and long-term growth nearly impossible. In time, it became clear the township didn’t want us to succeed.

The Turning Point

As we approached year-end 2019, national headlines were starting to mention a new coronavirus. It was a season of rising uncertainty, and we had to consider our next move.

We had already transformed the park physically. But the regulatory climate was immovable. We were proud of what we had built—proud of the community we helped strengthen. But we also knew the limits of what could be done without broader support from local government.

So, after a great deal of deliberation, we decided to sell the park.

After Windmill

We sold it to a national operator just before COVID changed the world. It was, in retrospect, a good decision. The timing was right. The community was stable. The systems, while aging, were improved and operational. And for us, the mission had been fulfilled.

After Windmill, we pivoted into storage facilities. A different asset class, but the same mindset: care, systems thinking, attention to detail, and a desire to create stability for the people who use the space.

What I Learned: 12 Lessons I Carry With Me

1. Sweat equity has compounding returns—until it caps out. There’s a limit to what your own two hands can fix. We pushed those limits, and that taught us when grit isn’t enough.
2. Not all value is visible on a balance sheet. We created a better environment. Happier tenants. Less turnover. A feeling of pride. Those metrics don’t always appear in a spreadsheet or financial statement—but they matter.
3. Bureaucracy is the hidden gatekeeper of value. You can do everything right as an operator, and still be strangled by local government. Regulatory risk is real estate risk.
4. Deferred maintenance is often cultural, not just physical. It wasn’t just the buildings that were worn down—it was the systems, the community rhythm, the mindset. You can’t fix culture with caulk.
5. Affordable housing faces misaligned incentives. Everyone supports it in theory. But municipalities chase tax revenue, not equity. MHPs don’t fit their spreadsheet or how they like to think of themselves.
6. Proximity builds empathy—and leverage. Living in the park gave me insights a dashboard never could. It gave me leverage with residents, not through power, but through mutual trust. Boots on the ground is essential. Passive investments don't exist.
7. Craftsmanship and character go together. Watching Carl solve problems with precision and pride reminded me: there is nobility in mastery. Good workers are rare. They are worth everything.
8. Gratitude beats fear in community management. We led with respect and consistency. Our tenants responded in kind. Dignity is contagious.
9. Legacy isn’t something you leave—it’s something you build together. Carl and I didn’t just work on Windmill. Windmill worked on us. That was the point.
10. Sometimes the most meaningful work doesn’t scale. There’s honor in the local. In the one-off. In the project you feel as much as fund.
11. Exit isn’t failure. It’s completion. We didn’t sell because we gave up. We sold because we knew we had given our best. Some would say this asset was one you'd never sell. Who's to say...
12. Small places can make a big impact. A few dozen acres in Holland, Michigan shaped my values, my career, and how I want to show up in the world.

The Legacy

We didn’t get to finish what we started. But we did enough to know it mattered.

We provided safe, stable housing to hundreds of people. We made a run-down park shine again. We proved that mobile home communities—when cared for—can be beautiful, affordable, and dignified places to live.

Housing is now a passion of mine. Not just as an asset class. But as a calling.

Affordable housing isn’t about margins. It’s about the people who live in the margins. If you treat them with respect, they pay it back tenfold.

Windmill wasn’t just an investment. It was a partnership. With my father. With our tenants. With the land itself.

And for a little while, we made it better.

And if we made one life a little more stable, a little more hopeful, or a little more dignified—then it was worth every cold morning, every long night, and every lesson learned.

Because that’s what legacy is: not the things we leave behind, but the good we plant in others while we’re here.

Dedicated to Carl Heintz.

Building the Certified Entrepreneurial Advisor Program

In an age where niche expertise reigns and entrepreneurship is booming, a father and son set out to redefine how small business advisors are trained—and more importantly, how they’re seen.

The Certified Entrepreneurial Advisor (CEA) Program was born out of a deeply felt market need. For decades, small businesses have relied on a patchwork quilt of advisors—CPAs, attorneys, insurance brokers, marketing consultants—each with deep knowledge in their silo, but rarely with cross-disciplinary fluency. As anyone who’s ever tried to run a business knows, it’s rarely one issue that breaks a company—it’s the intersection of issues.

My father, Carl Heintz, a CPA of over 40 years, knew this problem intimately. I had seen it too, from the perspective of a consultant and corporate executive. We both believed that small business advisors needed more than technical skills. They needed a system—a holistic framework—that would equip them to see the big picture and act as true entrepreneurial guides.

The Vision

The idea was straightforward, even if the execution wouldn’t be: create a rigorous, practical certification for small business advisors modeled loosely after the CFP (Certified Financial Planner) designation, but rooted in the real-world challenges of Main Street, not Wall Street.

The CEA would cover 12 core areas—from accounting and finance to leadership, marketing, risk management, and law. It would be delivered through online modules, accessible anywhere, built for working professionals. The format would be user-friendly, but the curriculum uncompromising.

We designed the program with dual benefits: to fulfill continuing education (CPE) requirements for existing professionals, and to offer them a new credential that would build credibility, deepen client trust, and allow them to command higher fees.

The Build

We bootstrapped from day one. No venture capital. No grants. No external investors. The entire platform—video content, LMS, curriculum, quizzes—was produced between our two homes, one course at a time. Carl built the curriculum and recorded the lectures; I managed production, operations, and marketing.

The business model was simple: subscription-based access at $29 or $39/month, depending on feature level. Upon completion, users would pay a modest license fee to use the CEA designation. The math was conservative: break-even at 400 users, profitability well before 1,000.

As we launched, we saw immediate validation. Emails came in. Professionals who were tired of dry, technical webinars praised our practical, story-driven courses. Others saw the CEA as a way to pivot their careers into small business consulting. A community started to form.

Challenges We Faced

We were entering a crowded market. Over 2,000 registered CPE providers exist in the U.S. alone. Titans like Thomson Reuters, Western CPE, and the AICPA had brand dominance. But what they didn’t have was focus. They didn’t have a certification.

We focused on our edge:

• Hyper-focus on small business advisory
• Engaging, high-production video content
• A sense of identity and mission: becoming a CEA meant joining something bigger

Yet, the hurdles were real. Gaining CPE approval from organizations like NASBA required exacting compliance. Marketing in a noisy world was slow and iterative. And we had to do all of it while managing full lives outside the business.

What We Learned

We learned that:

1. Niche beats general every time – Our strength wasn’t trying to be all things to all people, but being the onlything to the right people.
2. Credentialing is about signaling, not just learning – Professionals wanted more than knowledge; they wanted proof.
3. The market will validate you if you solve a real pain point – Our early adopters stayed, paid, and spread the word.
4. Education is a relationship, not a transaction – Our community forum, masterclasses, and ongoing CPE updates became retention tools and trust builders.
5. People want to feel part of something – The CEA became more than a credential. It became an identity.

Twelve More Lessons I Carry With Me

1. Content matters—but story matters more. Dry compliance videos abound. But people engage when they see themselves in the material.
2. Never underestimate the complexity of the simple. Our subscription model was straightforward, but managing churn, support, and delivery required constant tuning.
3. Production value builds credibility. Even a homegrown product can look premium if you invest in quality.
4. Everything is copy. Emails, course descriptions, quiz language—every word is a chance to clarify or confuse.
5. Focus on “painkiller” features, not vitamins. Advisors don’t want fluff—they want help solving real business problems their clients face.
6. Membership is more valuable than access. A monthly subscription works better when it’s tied to identity, not just utility.
7. Credibility compounds. Each new success story, review, or endorsement strengthened our position.
8. Certifications are gatekeepers. People respect initials after your name—CEA gave professionals a way to stand out.
9. The regulatory path is part of your moat. Complying with NASBA and state rules wasn’t just required—it protected us from fly-by-night competition.
10. Good advisors want to be great. And they’re willing to invest the time and money to get there.
11. Start scrappy, but build like you’ll scale. Our processes, file structures, and naming conventions made growth easier.
12. Don’t wait for perfect. Launch with what you have. Iterate in public.

The Future

The CEA and small business institute was a labor of love, a professional experiment, and a real contribution to the advisory space. It was about making Main Street matter again. And at its heart, it was about teaching others what my father taught me: that true wisdom lies at the intersection of disciplines, and that great advisors don’t just give answers—they shape futures.

To learn more about the Certified Entrepreneurial Advisor program, visit ceanow.org.

Financial statements are essential tools for evaluating the health of a business, yet they can often be misleading. Sometimes, the issues with these statements are not rooted in bookkeeping systems, internal controls, or software glitches. Instead, they stem from fundamental systemic problems within the principles of accounting itself. 

The Systemic Problems in Accounting

Many accountants may hesitate to acknowledge this, but there are inherent flaws in traditional accounting practices. Issues arise in several areas, including:

• Inflation Accounting: Difficulty in accurately accounting for the effects of inflation on financial statements.
• Cost Basis Accounting: Challenges associated with determining the true cost basis of assets.
• Conservatism: The tendency to adopt overly conservative estimates, potentially distorting financial results.
• Cash vs. Accrual Accounting: Differentiating between cash and accrual methods complicates the understanding of a company's cash flow.
• Income Tax Regulations: The impact of tax rules can further obscure the true financial position of a business.

A critical question that arises is: why is the net profit reported on the income statement not equivalent to the cash available in the bank? To explore this discrepancy, the cash flow statement—also known as the statement of changes in financial position—provides valuable insights.

The Importance of Reconciliation

When examining financial statements, advisors must be vigilant in their approach. For example, consider two balance sheets: one prepared using the accrual basis and the other on a cash basis. The stark differences between these statements can often be traced back to accounts receivable. 

Determining which method provides a more accurate picture depends largely on the reality of those accounts receivable. As advisors, we must prioritize reconciliation in our discussions. 

A common misconception is that software like QuickBooks performs comprehensive reconciliations. While it may assist in some areas, it's crucial to conduct a thorough reconciliation process on paper or a spreadsheet. This ensures that all items on the bank statement have been accurately recorded in the financial books. 

Additionally, reconciliations should extend to credit card accounts, payroll, sales tax liabilities, and loan balances. It’s vital to ascertain that all balance sheet items reflect a reasonable reality.

Professional Integrity in Accounting

As professionals, we must avoid the pitfalls of willfully or recklessly using incorrect financial statements. A responsible accountant should ensure that there is a reasonable basis for the information presented. This involves making inquiries into any data that appears incorrect or inconsistent. 

Advisors—whether bankers, attorneys, or consultants—must ask critical questions about financial statements. Failing to do so could lead clients astray and result in significant financial repercussions.

The Causes of Accounting Failures

In summary, when accounting fails, the root causes can typically be traced to:

• Systematic flaws within accounting practices.
• Errors that remain unaddressed due to inadequate accounting procedures or untrained personnel.
• Software issues.
• Malicious activities like theft or deception within the accounting system.

Just as a garden requires attention and care to flourish, accounting systems also need diligent oversight. Without proper management, these systems can become overgrown with "weeds"—errors and inconsistencies that obscure the truth about a business's financial health.

Investing time and skill in the accounting process is essential for maintaining the integrity of financial statements, transforming what can be a chaotic environment into a well-ordered, beautiful representation of a company’s financial status.

“We are ready to meet the needs of a new generation of customers in a new era of communications and entertainment.”

– Edward E. Whitacre, Jr. Chairman and CEO, AT&T

When the "Unthinkable" Happened

View from the AT&T Merger Frontlines

In early 2005, a corporate maneuver once deemed "unthinkable" became a defining moment in American telecommunications history. SBC Communications, a regional offspring of the Bell System's 1984 divestiture, announced its intent to acquire AT&T—its former parent and a once-dominant force in global communications. The $16 billion deal, initially met with skepticism and political scrutiny, would become one of the most consequential mergers in the modern telecom era. I was 28 years old and, somewhat improbably, managing the California War Room in San Francisco—a nerve center for the public affairs campaign underpinning this unprecedented transaction. The "west" region was a significant market for the company. Success hinged on seven Public Utility hearings going smoothly, among other politics and regulatory hurdles.

AT&T, the name that had once defined American telephony, was by then a diminished enterprise. The consumer long-distance business had eroded under regulatory change and technological evolution. SBC, by contrast, had quietly built scale across local and regional markets, positioning itself as a formidable contender in wireless and broadband. Still, the optics of a regional upstart acquiring a former global hegemon demanded not only operational integration, but narrative control. The War Rooms—in San Antonio and in key states like California—were created to accomplish just that.

Reconstituting a Legacy

What was at stake in this merger extended beyond synergies and balance sheet consolidation. This was about resurrecting a legacy brand, while aligning it with the future of digital infrastructure. SBC was no longer content with being a regional carrier. Its leadership, particularly Chairman Edward Whitacre, understood that the industry was moving toward a model of convergence—where voice, video, data, and mobile services would all be offered by the same entity. For that, SBC needed AT&T’s reach, patents, and institutional expertise.

But ambition alone doesn’t drive policy approval. The merger had to survive regulatory scrutiny at both the federal and state levels, and it had to do so against the backdrop of fierce opposition from competitors, consumer watchdogs, and ideologically motivated commentators. The Federal Communications Commission and the Department of Justice would eventually approve the deal, but much of the practical work happened in the states—especially California.

California: Campaign as Strategy

In California, the Public Utilities Commission (CPUC) held disproportionate influence over public perception and regulatory tone. The CPUC scheduled 14 public hearings in cities across the state. These sessions became flashpoints for public sentiment—and, more importantly, public theater. The hearings attracted not just concerned citizens but also orchestrated opposition from consumer advocacy groups, such as TURN and the Greenlining Institute, often joined by actors representing competitive carriers.

Our mandate in the San Francisco War Room was to shape the battlefield before the battle began. We worked in sync with Public Strategies, SBC's corporate affairs team, and local allies to ensure turnout, message alignment, and rapid response. We were not engaging in subterfuge; we were engaging in advocacy. Every public speaker, op-ed author, or civic leader who stood in support of the merger was part of a broader architecture designed to demonstrate societal benefit.

Polling data revealed a nuanced landscape. Most residential consumers were indifferent to the merger, but enterprise buyers cared deeply about infrastructure stability and service continuity. Using those insights, we emphasized the complementary strengths of SBC and AT&T: the former's regional and consumer focus; the latter's global enterprise capacity. Together, they would form a vertically integrated, technologically forward, and financially resilient entity—capable of competing not just with legacy rivals, but with emerging threats from VoIP startups, cable operators, and nascent wireless broadband providers.

The Mechanics of Control

The War Room itself was a hybrid between a newsroom and a command center. Our days began with 8 a.m. strategy calls, often involving teams in San Antonio, D.C., and across multiple time zones. We monitored national media, tracked regulatory filings, and maintained real-time dossiers on opposition activity. In the evenings, we would often brief allies or prepare for the next day’s hearing or editorial board engagement. Our virtual war room—a secure online platform updated in real time—allowed a geographically dispersed team to maintain message discipline and operational synchronicity.

At the core of our messaging were three pillars: complementarity, technological leadership, and industry stability. We drafted and disseminated thousands of talking points, white papers, PowerPoint decks, and Q&A documents. Much of this material was targeted not at the public, but at intermediaries: third-party validators such as labor unions, minority advocacy groups, think tanks, and small business associations. The Communications Workers of America (CWA), the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), and Jesse Jackson’s Rainbow/PUSH Coalition all publicly supported the deal, offering statements and testimony that reinforced our narrative.

Opposition as a Known Quantity

The loudest dissent came from ACTel, a coalition of competitive carriers that hired Gary Reback—the same attorney who had led the antitrust campaign against Microsoft in the 1990s. ACTel filed white papers, held press conferences, and purchased ad space in Roll Call and The Washington Post. But their arguments—mostly focused on job losses and market concentration—were not materially new. In many cases, we were able to preemptively rebut their claims by using their own past statements or economic inconsistencies.

Qwest, meanwhile, played a more cynical game. CEO Richard Notebaert alternated between opposing the SBC-AT&T merger and courting MCI, AT&T's closest peer. In public hearings and filings, Qwest argued for divestitures—but privately, they positioned themselves to acquire any spun-off assets. Our opposition research documented these contradictions and deployed them tactically during public comment windows and editorial board briefings.

The Human Element

What is often overlooked in post-merger analyses is the human cost—not in terms of job losses, but in cognitive and emotional bandwidth. Our War Room operated 12 to 14 hours a day, six days a week. Team members slept with their phones on their nightstands. I occasionally slept in the war room. Every misstep had the potential to become a headline or a regulatory sticking point. The pressure was real. So was the camaraderie. We learned to trust one another’s instincts, to edit each other’s documents in silence, and to maintain decorum even under stress.

For me personally, the experience was transformative. I entered the year with a few wins under my belt from Missouri, and a sense of ambition. I exited with a toolkit of skills that I still draw upon two decades later: stakeholder mapping, regulatory fluency, media orchestration, and the ability to keep calm in rooms thick with consequence, big egos and loud voices.

Legacy and Perspective

The merger closed on November 18, 2005, after approvals from 36 state commissions, the DOJ, the FCC, and foreign regulatory bodies across more than a dozen countries. AT&T reemerged not as a relic but as a platform—positioned to invest in fiber, wireless spectrum, and eventually, content distribution. Whether the merger "worked" depends on your metrics. From a regulatory strategy perspective, it was executed with remarkable precision.

Today, when I read about mega-mergers, I rarely think in terms of stock price or EBITDA multiples. I think in terms of narrative risk, message control, and stakeholder psychology. I think about how a 28-year-old professional found himself fielding questions from reporters, working with the former speaker of the California Assembly, strategizing with lobbyists, and drafting materials for some of the most powerful executives in American business.

And I remember the lesson that matters most: In moments of complexity, clarity is a form of leadership.

Sidebar: Lessons from the War Room

• Narrative is Power. Don’t let facts speak for themselves; facts require framing.
• Local Matters. Federal approval may drive headlines, but state regulators shape outcomes.
• Opposition is Predictable. Most critics recycle talking points; rebuttals should evolve but remain anchored.
• Youth Is Not a Liability. In high-stakes environments, curiosity and stamina often trump tenure.
• Coordination Is Strategy. A message unshared is a message unmade.

This is the first time I’ve reflected publicly on my role in the merger. Perhaps it’s because I now appreciate not just the historical significance, but the personal one. For a brief moment in time, I stood at the intersection of policy, commerce, and narrative. And I learned that even in the shadows of giants, one can find space to stand tall.

There’s one word that captures the gamut of tactics you can use: SEDATE (apologize if this sounds a bit like brainwashing).

Statistics: Numbers are one of the most persuasive tools in public relations. Quantitatively qualifying any statement goes a long way. We live in a metric society and if you can’t utilize the power of numbers, your message isn’t as strong as it could be.

Example: Convey to an audience specific examples to illustrate how something works in the real world. The cell phone industry has created a great image for themselves when you hear stories about how lives were saved just because someone had their cell phone (and cell service) at the right time.

Demonstration: Demonstrations are often persuasive in anything related to science or technology. Walking reporters through a new technology or giving a demonstration is much more effective than trying to put that experience into words.

Analogy: An analogy can be extremely powerful. Harris Wofford did an analogy comparing criminals and lawyers to ‘working Americans’ and doctors…anytime you can associate the image of something to another image more closely related to your image objective, you’ve made progress.

Testimonials: A real person who can tell their story is always more persuasive than an expert or some other talking head. It’s one thing to tell people that the nationwide nursing shortage is hurting patient care. It’s an entirely different message to hear when it comes from a compassionate looking woman in a white nurse’s outfit or from an ailing patient.

Experience: More than likely, if you’re telling a story, there are people who can relate. Find these stories and understand how people’s experiences shape their understanding of the issue. You’ll not only become a better writer, but will be able to craft a better message.

Along with patient stories, most departments have some kind of new procedure or technique or technology to treat an illness. It’s important to always keep the marketing department in the loop with what is going on, particularly if you think it will yield a good media story. Stories that the media look for include:

• human interest stories
• interaction with the community
• new technology
• educational health programs for the public
• innovative health care procedures
• special events, celebrations

For a certain kind of reporter, it’s important to realize they may attempt to get you to answer a question in a way that could be potentially embarrassing or harmful to the hospital. In situations like these, it is crucial to keep your composure and remember that you don’t have to answer the question within the framework given to you by the reporter. This happened to me on the first day of my job. Be able to spot these tactics that could be used and know how to counteract them:

False Premise: The reporter makes an assumption about the hospital that is incorrect. Do not restate their error in your answer — or even deny it. Instead, say, “That’s not true. The truth is…” or, “That’s not an accurate statement.”

Hypothetical Questions: You are given a “what if” situation and asked to comment or give your opinion. Never make guesses or speculate during an interview — respond only to real situations.

Phantom Authority: In this situation, the reporter makes a vague reference to a study or quote made by some authority. Never respond to this type of question unless the reporter can provide you with the exact data. If the data is produced, you are within your rights to take time to review it before you respond to the question.

Unacceptable Alternatives: The reporter gives you a choice between two situations and wants to know which one you prefer. Do not hesitate to state a third option that you support and give an explanation why.

Badgering: The same question is asked dozens of times by a persistent reporter tying to get the answer he or she desires. Never concede the point just to get the reporter to stop.

Rapid-Fire Questions: The reporter “fires” one question after another without waiting for a response. Do not let this rattle you. Instead take one question at a time. If you are confronted with several questions, select the one you want to respond to and disregard the rest.

Why not just accept that reporters are likely to be sensitive about the “list of questions” issue, and avoid this language altogether (we covered this in our media kit part 2 section). Here’s how you do that. Here are five questions you can ask any reporter before any interview to elicit all the information you need to prepare:

1. What’s your story about? Reporters will always approach an interview with a story angle in mind. This isn’t necessarily bias against you or your organization. Most often it is simply the reporter’s beginning expectation of how the story will come out. Even a reporter has to start somewhere. You have a right to know a reporter’s angle on any story before you submit to an interview. With this information, you have the opportunity to prepare your messages either in support of, or in opposition to that angle. Just remember that the interview itself is your opportunity to be persuasive, so don’t attempt to negotiate a more favorable playing field prior to the interview.
2. What background information or research will I need to help you with your story? In other words, what level of detail will the reporter be expecting in the interview? Will quotes from you be sufficient, or will you need to cite facts and figures from memory? This is critical, because it helps you avoid spending precious interview time saying “I don’t know,” or “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Don’t be hesitant to make those statements if required in the interview. Just minimize that necessity.
3. Who else are you interviewing (or have you already interviewed) for this story? Just knowing who else is being interviewed can indirectly give you lots of information about questions 1 and 2 above. It will also give you important information about how important the story is to the reporter. Several other people being interviewed, for example, could easily indicate that the story is a major investigative piece, which tells you quite a bit about how to prepare.
4. What subjects are you most interested in talking about? A very general sounding question, perhaps, but it will often lead to insights into the reporter’s thinking about the story. If there is a genuine bias there, the answer to this question may reveal it.
5. How else can I help you with your story? Such a blanket invitation to be helpful may be turned down by the reporter, but asking this question with the sincere intention of being helpful can go a long way toward negating any hostility or antagonism between you and the reporter. Once you’ve agreed to talk with a reporter, don’t blow it in advance by asking for a set of questions. Instead, recognize how reporters can misinterpret language commonly used by business people. Then position yourself as being sincerely interested in helping the reporter get a balanced, full story. Use this approach, and you’ll get all the information you need to prepare for your interview.

News Interviews: They Don’t Have To Be Like Root Canals

The thought of going one-on-one with a reporter is enough to throw some corporate managers and executives into a fit of full-blown interview anxiety. It can generate snowballing self-doubt and even panic as they imagine the absolute worst that could come of the encounter.

“I’ll embarrass myself.”
“I’ll embarrass my company.”
“I’ll say the wrong thing.”
“I won’t know all the answers,”
“They’ll trick me into saying things I don’t want to say.”
“I’ll get fired.”

Good reporters have lots of sources, and the staple of their professional diet is the interview.

For the uninitiated businessperson, the interview is the place where most mistakes are made, where misinformation develops and where even well intentioned efforts to cooperate with the news media may backfire.

Interviewees often go away from an interview frustrated, anxiety-ridden and angry. Reporters often feel the same way, although from a different perspective. When the story shows up in the paper, or on radio or television, it confirms the source’s worst fears. Most blame the reporter for “not getting it right,” which merely increases the sense of mistrust.

It’s a form of self-sabotage, but it doesn’t have to be that way. In fact, interviews can be incredibly fun. I have a custom ritual of taking a “selfie” with the reporter and the interviewee afterwards. It’s fun and goes a long way of creating goodwill in a relationship.

Here are the 10 ways organizations and their members most often sabotage their media relationships, as well as individual interview opportunities:

1. Ask a reporter to submit a complete list of questions in advance. This is asking for trouble. But you can and should ask what the story is about, and you should expect an honest, complete answer.
2. Insist that “no comment” makes you sound important. “No comment” speaks volumes, and none of it is good.
3. Go into an interview with a bad attitude. This can only guarantee that a potentially adversarial situation will go wrong. What else can this produce but a bad story?
4. Blame the reporter for asking the wrong questions. There are no wrong questions, only opportunities for you to make a point and to communicate your organization’s messages to its audiences beyond the news media.
5. Keep a low profile during a crisis. Silence may be golden sometimes, but try it here and you’ll find your organization’s image severely tarnished.
6. Refuse to ever acknowledge, “I don’t know.” Not only is it OK not to know all the answers, in some situations it can be essential to your credibility as an interviewee.
7. Respond to questions when you don’t really know the answer. This is the quickest way to get into trouble. Why not just offer help in getting the right person to answer those questions?
8. Get into an argument with a reporter. Even if you win, you lose.
9. Succumb to an “ambush” interview when you could turn the situation into a positive platform for your messages (or politely decline the interview altogether).
10. Throw in plenty of jargon so people will see you as an expert. It’s a guaranteed turnoff. Instead, speak the language of the audience you really want to reach.

Here are the top five things your organization can do to assure fair and accurate media coverage.

1. Establish reasonable expectations about media coverage of your organization. Serious, professional journalists will never be concerned with your image, so don’t expect it. If your standards for coverage are fairness, accuracy and balance, you’ll be on the same wavelength with most media representatives. If you expect special treatment, better stick with advertising.
2. Learn how the news media work. What is news and what isn’t? How are stories assigned? Remember, news media organizations are for-profit businesses. Media coverage of your organization will improve when you know as much about them as you expect them to know about you.
3. Develop the skills you need to work with the media. Make certain that anyone in your organization who will do interviews has experience and/or professional training in interview skills and crisis communication. Interviewing is not simply a matter of holding a conversation with a reporter. It is a meeting of agendas, and that requires knowing how to communicate your organization’s messages.
4. Establish relationships with members of the media. There is no such thing as a last-minute friendship with the news media, especially in the case of a crisis or special event. Reach out. Don’t wait for them to come to you. It’s really no different from your own sales department, or life in general, for that matter. It boils down to three things: 1) Who do you know? 2) How do you get along with them? And 3) What are you doing to maintain the relationship?
5. Take responsibility for your own image in the news media. This is probably the single greatest step any organization can take to improve its media coverage. You might be amazed at how reporting about your organization improves when you stop blaming the news media for bad coverage and become intent on talking to the media effectively to deliver your own messages.