Showing posts with label licensing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label licensing. Show all posts

Sunday, April 1, 2012

What it takes to sell BBQ


BBQ in Texas is a passion for some folks, and I love dinning on their handiwork.  Just the other day, I stopped into a local BBQ joint for some brisket.  Prior to moving to Texas, I’d never had this cut of beef.  BBQ to me was pulled pork or chicken, or beef ribs.  I am now a big fan of Texas brisket.  Good stuff. 

While I was waiting (and drooling) in line I couldn’t help but notice the display of paperwork mounted on the wall.  Upon closer inspection, what I found were the company’s occupational licenses – eight in all.  These ranged from a license just to open (certificate of occupation) to a desert license.  Are the risks so great that one must be duly licensed to sell deserts?  Apparently in San Antonio.



Texas is (was?) known for its rather lax laws and regulations, and so this caught me by surprise.  Is all this necessary to protect the public?  I mean a desert license?  Get real.  Many of these so-called public protections are simply a way for the City to generate income, but it also has another effect (the unseen).  The average Joe is oftentimes pushed out of the market.  Starting a BBQ business would not only require all the capital necessary for acquiring equipment to cook and prepare meat, the owner must attend hours of education and pay the City large amounts of money to obtain all the necessary permits. 
 
Entrepreneurs loaded with a good recipe but not cash may balk at all the permits required.  The result of this is consumers are made worse off.  That’s one less choice we have, and that’s a bad thing.  So, the next time you’re out dinning on some good ole BBQ, thank the business owner for navigating their City’s labyrinth of occupational licenses and permits.  Pleasing City officials is often harder than pleasing customers.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Protecting the public or their own interest?


I’m in the accounting profession, and make my living as an auditor.  And my employer encourages the workforce to pursue higher education and obtain relevant certifications, which lend our agency the credibility needed to satisfy our clients and stakeholders.  In this profession, the crown jewel is the certified public accountant or CPA.

I have toyed around with the idea of sitting for the CPA several times throughout my extensive and venerable career.  I have other credentials, but the CPA would open other opportunities, and so I’ve looked into the requirements to sit for the exam here in Texas.   I was quite surprised at what I found.

Beginning just recently, applicants must take a Board approved ethics class.  The Board is the governing authority for the public accounting profession, and each state has one.  Each state Board has the authority to set whatever requirements it deems necessary to “protect the interest of the public.”  And I guess the Board feels the accounting profession is somehow lacking ethically.  Not only do all new applicants have to take this 3-hour class at a considerable expense, only certain classes taught bycertain professors/instructors are acceptable.  And I just learned of two new impending requirements.

Beginning shortly, new applicants must have 2 hours in “accounting research”, and must have taken business communication.  Why, you ask?  Apparently to reduce the number of public accountants in Texas, as these requirements serve only to restrict and limit the supply of applicants.  Additionally, many board members are university professors, and increasing the academic requirement of public accountants funnels more money into the university.

I question whether these new requirements will enhance the public interest, or only hurt consumers by reducing the number of available CPAs in Texas and driving up prices.  Naturally, the board probably envisioned a more ethically, researched-enabled CPA with honed communication skills, but they overlooked the diminished workforce ready and able to serve the public that these expensive requirements will leave in its wake.  Unfortunately, the unseen is all too often – well, overlooked.