The
perils of company slicing and dicing
By Martin Paskind
Entrepreneurial slicing and dicing comprises a small-business
art form. It happens when a business founder wants to bring in
other owners. It occurs for reasons including retirement,
financing, employee rewards and incentives, attempting to assure
family harmony and estate planning.
Take for example a company we will call Concrete Clothing
Corp., a firm known nationally for suits that mobsters put on
victims before they are thrown from boats and bridges. Since
demand is high, the company has prospered since Al Gorio founded
it.
Being nothing if not generous, old Al gives big chunks of
stock to his children, Ensalada and Forklift.
"Use this to take care of Tipper, your mother, when I'm
gone," says Al. He wants to assure family harmony and do a
little estate planning.
The first hint that all might
not be well comes in a letter to Al from the lawyer representing
the children:
"As attorney for your children, I hereby demand that
you stop paying yourself and give Ensalada and Forklift all
the money."
Ungrateful
The lawyer, Quentin Quagmire, points out that Concrete
Clothing, which is an S-corporation, doesn't pay taxes. The
business reports to the IRS, but shareholders pay taxes, Al, who
gets a big salary, and Ensalada and Forklift, who get no money
at all.
Still, the company has huge profits, and Al gets a bonus to
pay taxes on his share. The children get nothing but a bill from
the IRS.
Quagmire's letter concludes: "Since you made such a mess
of this, you probably ought to sell the company and divide the
proceeds."
Poor Al can't believe it. He calls Maxine McKnife, his
lawyer. "Little Maxie," he pleads, "help me. What
should I have done?"
"Well," says McKnife, "first you should have
made an agreement saying that Concrete Clothing would give
Ensalada and Forklift at least enough money to pay taxes
resulting from stock ownership. Also, you should have a few
other provisions."
Salary Too High
Your salary is high for someone in the concrete clothing
business, says McKnife. As minority owners, the children may
want to challenge that. Maybe, however, you can sweeten their
deal a little. Not only do they get free stock, they get no-work
salaries.
"In addition," says Maxie, who talks like a lawyer,
"Ensalada and Forklift may not want you investing a lot of
money in gas stations, restaurants and airlines. They want to
invest in European vacations, all first class. By objecting,
they can queer all your deals. You won't have any power."
McKnife recommends a contractual provision giving Al all the
power to decide.
"Why would Ensalada and Forklift agree to that?"
asks Al. "Us Gorios don't raise no dumb kids."
"I can't think of a single reason," replies Little
Maxie, "except that maybe you will give them a lot of money
to sign the deal."
CPAs and Taxes
All these complexities have big tax consequences. Al's
accountant will get into the act, and so will a CPA for the
children. Concrete Clothing will pay both bills, creating still
more tax problems.
Al goes home, sorrowful and depressed. "This isn't any
fun, any more," he tells his wife. "Lets sell Concrete
Clothing and goof off in Europe with the kids."
"Okay," replies the wife.
A buyer appears, and all concerned, including Ensalada and
Forklift, begin working on a deal. The youngsters object to the
price, the payment terms and everything else about the
transaction. Power is the problem.
Three CPAs are in on the deal, Al's, the children's, and the
buyer's.
"We agree," they say, "that this deal will
have pooling accounting treatment."
"What's that?" shout Ensalada and Forklift.
"We don't know what that means."
Playing Pool
"I think," says McKnife, "that pooling means
the buyer won't have to amortize good will. I don't know,
because I'm just a lawyer. This is part of the priestly
mysticism of CPAs."
The buyer's CPA is eager to explain. "There's no
mysticism about this," she says. "Either do it our way
or the deal is off."
"We're not going along with this," say Ensalada and
Forklift as they stomp out the door. "We need to do our
Christmas shopping."
Everyone leaves except Al and McKnife. "I guess there
should have been an enormous contract," he says. "I
just blew it when I handed over shares of stock."
"Yes, you blew it," Little Maxie agrees. "Now
you must spend the rest of your life working to give the
children whatever they want, just as when they were 3 years old.
Good luck, Al, and happy holidays."
At least Al didn't slice in a venture capitalist. Such people
are far worse to deal with than your kids. As always, power is
the problem.
If tempted by entrepreneurial slicing and dicing, check F.
Tannenbaum's "Slicing It Up," 9:2
Business Law Today
52 (Nov.-Dec. 1999).
Martin Paskind is an Albuquerque
lawyer. His practice emphasizes legal services to small
businesses. Questions or comments can be mailed to him in care
of the Albuquerque Journal, P.O. Drawer J, Albuquerque, N.M.
87103. This column is not intended to provide legal advice to
any specific person, or with respect to any particular problems
or situations. Paskind's columns are available online at www.abqjournal,com/biz/pask/
For advice on specific problems
and circumstances, contact your attorney.
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