August 2001
A Fable
By Ed Scribner, Ph.D., CPA
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, it was decided that testing the queen’s food was too important a task to be left to just anyone who was willing to provide that service. The queen asked her royal court, “How can we protect the queen by ensuring that only highly competent and honest testers be allowed to test my food?”
After a long period of silence, one of the princes exclaimed, “I’ve got it, Your Highness! Let’s create the credential ‘Certified Royal Tester’!”
“Yes!” exclaimed another prince. “Let us establish an organization, the Royal Institute of Certified Royal Testers, to develop a rigorous three-day examination for those who would become CRTs. And let us permit each region to establish a Board of Public Testership to ensure that regulations are promulgated and enforced throughout the kingdom regarding those who would aspire to this important role.”
As time went on, more and more testers strived for and achieved the much-coveted credential. To be sure, it took some of them more tries than others to pass the CRT exam. And, from time to time, even food tested by a CRT would upset the royal stomach, causing some members of the court to grumble that there should be more royal regulation of CRTs. But, overall, the queen was pleased and all was well in the land.
Many CRTs banded together in huge CRT firms that tested royal food in many kingdoms. Also, as more time passed, CRTs extended their offerings to include such services as recipe writing, restaurant reviews, top-10 lists of restaurants in the kingdom, and computation of the annual royal food tax. Some accepted employment in the commerce sector, performing important work in castle commissaries and great banquet halls. After all, these were highly competent professionals who could do more than simply test food. Some began to forget the purpose of the CRT credential. In fact, some CRTs no longer even tested food. “Too much liability!” they murmured.
Soon, other citizens said, “These CRTs seem to have a great reputation for competence and integrity, and they’re making lots of money. We too can pass that exam and become CRTs! Then royal subjects will beat a path to our door for restaurant reviews and travel guides.”
“But you don’t test food,” objected one regional Board of Public Testership to an examination applicant. “So what?” replied the applicant. “If I can pass that exam, who are you to say I can’t be a CRT?”
Thus, the CRT certificate began to appear on the office walls of those who had never tested food for the queen or who had done so for only a brief time to satisfy an “experience requirement.” Some CRTs provided consulting services to food providers seeking admission to the royal provider list; these CRTs were often alleged by Her Majesty’s Safe Eating Clearinghouse (SEC) to have “an independence problem.”
Soon, nontesters began to outnumber testers and even began to look condescendingly upon the testers, calling them “bean-counters” and saying they performed a service that didn’t “add value.” “It’s the same food, for heaven’s sake!” exclaimed the nontesters. “If anything, it’s cold by the time you get through with it and send it on to Her Majesty. But look at us. We are important business partners, planning menus for our company commissaries and envisioning new frontiers of culinary exploration. You may see ‘CRT’ after our names, but don’t assume that means we test food for the queen.”
Meanwhile, back at the Royal Institute of Certified Royal Testers, confusion reigned. One member of RICRT Council announced, “The purpose of the CRT has long been forgotten, except by members of the royal public, who still think CRTs do royal food testing. In truth, our members perform all manner of services now, including some things that are far removed from testing the queen’s food.” One member of Council said, “Let us then return to our roots and purify this CRT designation.” But he was drowned out by many others, who said, “There is no turning back! Let us do a better job of educating the queen’s subjects about what CRTs really do.”
“Perhaps the very name ‘CRT’ is outmoded,” suggested one member. “We need something more descriptive of the broad and deep competencies of the valuable professionals we now call CRTs.”
“You’re on the right track, but I’d go much further!” replied another. “We have a grand opportunity to expand the role of this type of professional. Let us design a new designation that will transcend even what we now conceive of as the myriad competencies of the CRT! We can even keep the CRT credential in the process. I firmly believe this idea will appeal even to other kingdoms, and we can have an interkingdom credential! Can anyone think of a suitable name?”
“Royal Cognitor!” shouted an ill-fated member in the back row.
Following the beheading, another member cautiously suggested, “How about ‘ABC’ for right now?”
So the Royal Institute proceeded with the plan, but some in the remote forests and valleys of the kingdom objected, saying, “Hold on, there!” as they were wont to say in those regions. Thus, reluctantly, and with silent laments about “resistance to change,” the Royal Institute decided to put it to a vote of the membership.
“What are we voting on?” asked several members upon receiving a letter announcing the upcoming vote. “Sounds like a good idea, but I already do these things,” said some. “Sounds like a good idea for some, but I don’t do this kind of work and have no desire to,” said others. “Sounds like the Royal Institute is on one of its marketing kicks again,” grumbled others. “Can’t fault them for that,” replied some, and “At least they’re trying!” “Craziest idea I’ve seen since the internal moat,” said one, cynically.
In the fall of the year, after much discussion, the time for the vote arrived. Certifying the result was the firm of AndersenKPMGDeloitteToucheErnstYoungPricewaterhouseCoopers, CRTs, (the so-called Big One, following a spate of mergers). To the disappointment of some and the delight of many, the result was [could not be disclosed at press time]. And some went away simply asking, “What’s a food-testing firm doing certifying election results?”
Ed Scribner is a professor of accounting at New Mexico State University.