[ back ]
Complex paper trail is best left to experts
(by Lauri Gross - September 30, 2010)
VITAL TRIFLE, BY LAURI GROSS
Complex paper trail is best left to experts
A career as an accountant or an attorney has always seemed to me like something to force upon your enemies, rather than something to willingly choose to occupy one's time. Besides the technical aspects of the jobs, which run contrary to the wiring of my brain, there is the fact that both professions seem to exist in a fog of paperwork. Even if the paperwork is now virtual, the forms, procedures and regulations are still real.
Since hiring my first accountant to prepare my taxes decades ago, I have always maintained that the money I pay that accountant is the best money I spend all year. I am only too happy to pay someone to provide a service that needs doing and that I could never do myself.
The recent death of my father-in-law has driven this point home even more as Judd's two sons -- my husband, Brent, and brother-in-law, Todd -- and I are left to settle his estate, with help, of course, from lawyers and accountants.
I know that civilization needs things like car titles, wills, death certificates and bank statements, but I much prefer to live without giving these things much thought in my day-to-day existence. I couldn't imagine the world of an attorney or accountant -- or county recorder, for that matter -- for whom this paperwork is the very reason they exist.
Through the process of settling Judd's estate, we have learned many things that, frankly, I would rather not have learned.
For example, now I know the difference between a notarized signature and a "medallion guaranteed" signature. Several of the documents required to transfer ownership of this, that or the other from my father-in-law to his sons required a medallion guaranteed signature. "A notarized signature will not do," the forms admonished. So off we went to Google to learn about these signatures and then to a local bank to secure the required signature guarantee. Actually, I still don't really know the difference, except that you can only secure a medallion guaranteed signature at a bank if you have an account there, whereas you can get a notarized signature at any bank.
Many of the steps along the path of settling Judd's estate required a certified copy of the deceased's will. Here's how you get a certified copy of a will: Hand over the original will to an attorney, who will charge you money to file the will with the state, which will then charge you money to make and deliver certified copies. The same goes for the actual death certificates: The funeral home will get you as many as you want, as long as you pay dearly for each one.
We faced the task of transferring ownership of a car, a house and some bank accounts from Judd to Brent and Todd. Sometimes, the steps laid out by, and the forms provided by, the attorney differed from what it turned out we actually needed.
Should these assets be transferred to the executor, my husband, or the trustee, my brother-in-law? Depends on who you ask. Do you need to show originals or certified copies of the will, the death certificate, bank statements, etc.? Depends on who you ask. Will the procedure go smoothly and be completed efficiently, or will it drag on, requiring more calls to the attorney and more afternoons spent sniveling before the desk of a civil servant? Depends on whether that civil servant is having a good day. Either way, you, most certainly, are not. Having a good day, that is.
How about a safety deposit box? How do you get into someone else's safety deposit box? Brent and Todd had a key and all that paperwork with all those fancy guaranteed signatures, raised seals and whatnot, but it still appeared they would not get into the box, because, you see, they needed two keys. It turns out that securing that crucial second key simply required a $20 fee, but Brent and Todd didn't find that out until they -- and their one key -- were very nearly sent home empty-handed.
Even canceling magazine subscriptions and phone and cable service and changing the deceased's address to our own was not as simple as you might expect. In some cases, forms requested a signature -- of the deceased -- which we had to explain was simply not possible.
In other cases, we could do online what we could not do in person. Changing an address, other than your own, is nearly impossible to do in person but entirely reasonable online.
I have kept copies of all these papers, including 50-plus-year-old life insurance policies and Judd's hand-scrawled notes about where he kept certain important papers -- in a 4-inch three-ring binder marked, "estate documents." I am making sure every paper is dated, copied and labeled. And most papers include my handwritten notes about who I talked to and when and what instructions they gave me to move the process along.
Through it all, the attorney and the accountant generated returns, reports and other mysterious documents, all designed for the efficient flow of the official business of a civilized society, of which I am glad I am usually not a part.
[ back ]
