The Purple Folder

This week we got our taxes done.  After looking at last year's stuff, I noticed everything was contained in a blue folder with the preparer's business label at the top and our names written in marker underneath.  So I put all of our 2011 tax documents together in a purple folder (I didn't have a blue one), left enough space for him to put his label at the top and wrote our name in marker underneath.

On Tuesday I went into his office and introduced myself.  After he greeted me, I handed him the folder with everything in it.  He looked at the folder and joked, "This is going to throw me off.  I always give out blue folders to my clients."

After getting a call that our taxes were done, I returned to the office today.  My check for his services was already written out and laying on the table.  While he was going over the details of everything with me, he absent-mindedly picked up the check and put it into a drawer.

I had a few questions and then he handed me the bill.  I sat and looked over it a bit for the sake of courtesy, then sat it down.  He did some things on his computer and made some light conversation as we were both sitting there.  I was wondering what was next.  Then he said to me, "Were you going to mail the check in?"

At first I thought he was talking about my tax payment, but then I thought, 'No, we don't owe anything.'  Suddenly I realized he forgot that he had already taken my check.  "I gave it to you earlier.  I think you put it in the drawer," I said as politely as I could.  He turned beet red.  He was so embarrassed.  He apologized and explained to me that he has a system in place for how he does things.  Usually after receiving the bill, he sits and waits for people to write the check.  I already had the check written.  "I think it all started with that purple folder," he joked.  "I told my wife the other day about the lady who brought in the purple folder to my office."

We talked some more and towards the end of our conversation he asked me where I was from.  I told him that I was from the area.  He said, "You don't seem like you're from Central Pennsylvania."

"How's that?" I asked him.

"You don't talk like someone from around here, and your mannerisms and courtesy...It seems like you're from out of the country."

I was kind of taken aback by that, especially since I don't have an accent and have only met with this gentleman once this year and once last year.

"Your parents must have raised you well," he concluded.

Then a light bulb went on in my head.  "Yes, they did," I agreed, "and my Father Jesus still raises me to this day."

"Well, God bless you," he ended.

Walking out of his office I thought, 'I pray that every day I can stick out to people like a purple folder.'