The CPA Exam
A Not-Quite Entirely Accurate Description of What is Was Like to Take the CPA Exam
By Steven J. Hiatt

 I was ready. I had studied. I knew the material. I had thought about little else during the past few months than topics for the CPA exam. I was feeling relaxed and calm. I had extra pencils sharpened. Nothing was going to stop me today. I was ready.

I entered the testing center and took my seat. Before long I had my examination booklet and the call "Go" was given. I opened the booklet and turned to the first page.

Question One - "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" What? I hadn't studied that! That wasn't on any of the review materials. Calm down, I tell myself, just look over the answers and see if you can eliminate some and make a good guess. Let's see: A) Blue B) The moon C) Integrity D) Simple. What!? None of those answers make any sense! I started to sweat. I turned to the next problem.

Question Two - "If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers how many peppers did Peter Piper pick?" Augh! I don't know! I frantically begin to flip through the examination booklet looking for questions I can answer. Where are the questions I studied for? Ask me about warranty liability! Ask me about corporate distributions! Ask me about the taxation of partnerships! Ask me how many paragraphs in a standard unqualified audit report! Three! I know that! Ask me what I know!

A loud beeping noise announces that the time is up, "Beep, Beep, Beep." A voice declares "Put your pencils down and pass your exams forward."

"Wait," I protested, "I haven't even started yet!"

The beeping continues. I notice one of the proctors walking towards me. I try not to be noticed as I search for one – at least one – question I can answer. Now several proctors are running towards me. I yell out, "I'm not finished! I haven't started! These questions are all wrong! No! No!"

The beeping continues. "Beep, Beep, Beep..."

I sit up in bed. There are a few drops of sweat dripping off my forehead. The alarm clock on the dresser next to me is still encouraging me to wake up. "Beep, Beep, Beep," it says. My wife is just giving me a worried kind of look, but doesn't say anything.

Ok. I'm still ready. I did my studying. I still know the material, right? I was a little shaken but I still had my extra sharpened pencils. That was good. Nothing was going to stop me today. I took a quick shower, ate some breakfast and hopped in my car to head toward the exam site. Despite my dream, I was still ready.

I'm on my way! It feels great for this day to finally be here. Studying for the CPA exam is a long and tiring process. I have spent almost every evening and much of each weekend since December studying for this exam. I have worked harder for this than anything else I've ever done before in my life. When I first decided to take this exam I knew I would have to make a serious commitment in order to pass. Since then I have seriously committed myself to studying, while those who watched seriously thought I should be committed.

The exam site is on my route to work, about three-quarters of the distance. It normally takes me only a half-hour to get to work but I still budget a full half-hour to get there today. I turn onto the freeway, which is flowing smoothly. Sweet. On the seat next to me is my sack lunch, my plastic bag of snacks that I will take with me into the testing center, a water bottle that will also accompany me, my official admission notice and my sharpened pencils. I turn the radio to a soothing music station to calm my nerves. I can picture in my mind taking the test, answering all the questions and then leaving knowing that I passed everything. I relish this thought. Then I slam on my brakes to avoid the car in front of me.

The traffic had stopped. The red brake lights of the car in front of me woke me from my daydream just in time. The force of the sudden stop caused all the things on the passenger seat to slide off, pencils first, water bottle and the other things next. The weight of the water bottle breaks several of my pencils in half. “Noooooo!!!!” I scream. I notice that only one managed to escape damage.

My heart was now pounding, partly from the shock of almost being in an accident and partly from having my pencils break. Calm down, I tell myself. Just relax. I still know the material. I did my studying. I can still pass. I still have one sharpened pencil left. That will have to do. Nothing was going to stop me today. Well, besides the traffic at least.

The freeway is now jammed so I decide to get off and take the streets. I’m not really familiar with this area but I wander through the streets in the direction I think the testing center is. Sometimes the street I’m on comes to a dead-end and I have to turn around, or the lane that I am in suddenly turns into a right turn only lane and I end up heading the wrong way. My eye is constantly watching the clock, which seems to get faster every wrong turn I make. I would stop and ask for directions but, well, I’m a guy. I finally see the big sign “CPA Exam in Expo Bldg” with three minutes to spare.

I quickly join the end of the line of other candidates entering the building. There is a proctor just inside the front door checking everyone’s admission notices and photo ID’s. I pull my wallet out to show my driver’s license as I wait for the lady in front of me to find her admission card.

“It’s in here somewhere,” she says as she rummages through her overstuffed purse. Papers and index cards are falling out all around. I notice that she has her notes written on many of the papers and cards. With growing impatience I look around and notice a large sign on the wall that reads: “Items Prohibited: Notes, Papers of Any Kind, Highlighters, Pens, Rulers, Sodas, Weapons, and Chewing Gum.”

“Couldn’t you just take my word for it?” she asks the proctor, who shakes his head. Finally she pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper. It looks to me as if it has been copied several times and that her name seems to be in a different font and is slightly crooked on the page. The proctor takes a quick glance at it and, amazingly, lets her through. She tells him “thank you” as she stuffs all her notes back into her purse and enters the testing area.

I show the proctor my authentic admission card and wallet with my ID in it. “Sorry, but it’s past the starting time,” he informed me, looking at his watch. “You’re late. I can’t let you in.”

“I was on time!” I argued. “I was in line before the time started! If that last girl hadn’t taken so long I’d be in already.”

“Sorry, rules are rules,” he says coldly.

“But I was on time! You’ve got to let me in!” I pound my fist down on the table, still holding my open wallet.

“Of course I could let you in if you make it worth my while,” he tells me, glancing his eyes towards my wallet.

“Huh?” I looked at the ID in my wallet. There is nothing else showing except for the corner of a twenty-dollar bill that must have slid out when I hit the table. I grab the corner to put it back in straight when I notice the proctor’s eyes light up and his tongue move to the corner of his mouth. I pull the bill out and he deftly snatched it from my fingers and slid it into his pocket as if this was a well-practiced maneuver. He lets me through. I walk past him, somewhat stupefied and confused.

In Colorado, you have to take an ethics exam after passing the CPA exam. Oh well, I think, I’m in at least for now. I’ll worry about the ethical quandaries later.

I hurry down the hall towards the exam room. Large signs on the walls proclaim, “Absolutely no talking beyond this point!” I pass by several proctors on my way. One standing in a doorway blows a large bubble of chewing gum and snaps it. Two gruff looking men are standing in another doorway, suspiciously eyeing everyone in the room.

“Take a look at these candidates. Half of them look like high school dropouts. None of these morons could pass this exam,” one of them is saying loudly.

“I know what you mean,” another agrees. “They seem to get dumber every year.”

“Why when I took the exam there was none of this pansy stuff like they have today. Back in my day…” I try to ignore their words as I quickly slip past them and take my seat. I pull out my single pencil and lay it on the desk.  I glance around at the people seated next to me. There are about ten pencils lined up neatly next to each of them. I groan. A candidate farther on has not only pencils, but also black and blue pens, a highlighter, a ruler, a pack of chewing gum and a large soda from 7-11. I wonder to myself, “If this person cannot read the instructions for the exam which say not to bring these things, how well did he study the review materials?” I ponder this as a stern looking old man steps to the podium to begin the announcements.

“Welcome to the Business Law and Professional Responsibilities section of the Uniform CPA Examination. My name is Mr. Upton Snerdlick.” I hear a few giggles from the back of the room. “Cheating will not be tolerated during this exam. There are proctors stationed throughout the room to ensure your compliance.”

I take a glance around the room at the proctors. Something strikes me as odd about them, as if they reminded me of someone I knew. Then it dawned on me. Of course! If you wanted the meanest, nastiest people, where would you go? If you wanted someone who could hear the slightest whisper from a mile away, someone who would slap a ruler across your knuckles if your eyes turned even a fraction of an inch towards your neighbors paper, someone who could enforce even the most ridiculous rules where would you find them? The answer was simple. These were all high school librarians.

I shudder.

The Administrator continues, "Cell phones and pagers are not allowed in the testing area. If you have a cell phone or pager, please raise your hand so your section proctor can collect it from you until the end of the exam."

At that moment a loud ringing comes from the back of the room. "Hello?" a voice says amid the silence. "Hey, can I call you back? I have to take a test right now . . . The CPA exam . . . Yeah, I know . . . Really? That is so cool . . . Uh huh . . . Yeah, tell Charles 'Hi' for me . . . Hey, I gotta go, the test is gonna start. Bye." By this time several proctors had reached the talker and confiscated the phone.

Following a few more announcements the exam booklets are passed out. The first page is an attendance sheet where I fill in my name and address. Below that is a statement of confidentiality. It reads:

“I do solemnly swear that I will not disclose any information about this exam and exam booklet, the questions therein, the answers thereto, or the subject matter thereof. In fact I won’t even tell anyone I was even here today. This I promise cross-my-heart, hope-to-die, stick-a-sharpened-#2 pencil-in-my-eye, under penalty of having to calculate every Form 8864 by hand, of never being able to take the standard deduction again, and potentially even having to work in marketing.”

I sign the statement and when the call is given, I open my booklet and begin the exam for real. I am ready, I tell myself. I know this material. I had studied. I have my one pencil with me; it will have to do. I can do this. Nothing is going to stop me today. This is my only chance to prove this to myself.

I focus my mind on the things I’ve studied for the past five months. The questions are very similar to the ones in the review materials I’ve been working with. I am still a bit shaken from the events of this morning, but I try to put them out of my mind. My pencil works furiously filling in little bubbles where the right answers go. I begin to feel confident.

About an hour into the exam I felt my nose twitch. Oh no, not now, I thought. I tried to cover my nose to stop the tickle. I was going to sneeze. This is not a good thing. When I sneeze it is not just a little 'achoo' and that's it. No, when I sneeze it is more like an elephant blast. People in completely different zip codes duck for safety. Walls will shake and windows rattle in their frames. It was coming. The more I attempted to stop the pending eruption, the stronger the momentum built up.

"AAAAAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!"

I could feel the whole room look up from their desks and stare at me. I pulled out my handkerchief to wipe my nose and hide my face. "Bless you," said the man next to me, astonished. After I finished wiping my nose and catching my breath I was going to tell him "Thank you" but once I saw the proctors hauling him off for talking during the test I thought better of it.

I quickly finished the multiple-choice section of the exam and am glad to note that the essay question is on a subject I am familiar with. My hand grips my pencil tightly as it flies across the page, filling the empty space with the best specimen of accounting prose there has ever been. I am getting excited at the prospect of completing this first exam with flying colors. My hand races until – *snap* – my pencil breaks. I had been gripping it so tightly and was writing so fast that it broke in my fist. I almost let out an aggravated scream but, remembering the proctor’s watchful eyes and careful ears, I bite my tongue instead.

My pencil now consists of a sharpened tip with about one inch of wood behind it, an eraser at the other end with about two inches of wood in front of it, and a bunch of splinters in the middle. The only pencil sharpener in the room is an electric one guarded by a female proctor. Having no other choice I walk over there and try to sharpen the remaining eraser tipped end.

It’s too short to sharpen. I try to hold the end of the eraser with my fingertips but the sharpener only grinds a little wood from the sides. I’m starting to sweat. The time is swiftly running out and I still needed to finish my essay. I would have to do it with the one-inch sharpened tip. This makes writing considerably more difficult as you can imagine.

The Administrator announces when five minutes remain. I struggle to get my pencil stub to finish the essay. It seems that the shorter the pencil, the more mistakes it makes. Every time I make a mistake I have to put down my writing end, pick up the erasing end, erase the mistake and then switch pencil parts again. My forehead is dripping with sweat as the clock at the front of the room rushes to the end of the hour. One of the proctors quietly walks over and stands directly behind me. No pressure, I tell myself. The last line of my essay passes from my pencil to the paper at last. I stab the paper marking the final period as the call rings out, “TIME! Put your pencils down immediately!”

I breathe a heavy sigh and sink into my chair. It is finished. Well, the first section at least. There are only three more sections to go. Woo-hoo, I tell myself.

I spend the brief lunch period walking around the parking lot trying to ease my mind. It strikes me as odd that there are a large number of candidates that are studying now for the next section. I did my studying already. Personally, if I had a choice to study last month or ten minutes before the exam, I’d choose last month. I’d rather know the material well enough beforehand so that would be one less thing to worry about on the day of the exam. Sadly, it looks as if there are quite a few people who chose differently.

During my wanderings through the parking lot I meet up with one of my co-workers who is also taking the exam. We trade stories of how well we did and I mention my pencil predicament. She pulls out a handful of extra pencils and hands them to me. I am grateful for the gift and promise to keep them whole this time.

The afternoon section is auditing, which is my best section despite the fact that I never want to be an auditor. Having calmed down considerably over lunch, and having plenty of sharpened pencils, I feel much better about this section. I even finish with time to spare and proofread my essay. Practically perfect in every way I decide.

As I left the exam site the first day I noticed that the car parked next to mine had a bumper sticker that read "If it's not fun, it's not worth doing." It looked out of place here at the CPA exam. I wondered how many people taking this exam thought that it was fun.

I mean, besides me at least.

The second day was just like the first only with calculators.

ADDED AUGUST 11, 2003: I received my grades in the mail today. I needed at least 75 in each section to pass. Here are my scores:

AUDIT - 87
BPR     - 86
FARE   - 89
ARE     - 90

After all that I had gone through it was a relief to know I had finally finished. How did I do it? As I said before, I had studied, I knew the material. And in the end, that's all that mattered.

Author’s Disclaimer: The ONLY parts of the above that are true are 1) I took the CPA exam 2) I did study 3) There were people studying at lunchtime 4) There was the “Fun” bumper sticker on the car next to me and 5) Those are my real scores