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Personal Finance

Incorporating for fun and profit

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Finally finished with all the paperwork (I hope!) needed to establish The Copyeditor’s Desk as an S-corporation. Incorporating my multifarious freelance enterprises as a single entity will make it possible for me to earn enough to live on despite the government’s strictures on earned income for those who take so-called “early” Social Security—a limit guaranteed to keep all but the wealthiest investors in poverty.

It wasn’t as complicated as I feared. But of course, having an ex- who’s a corporate lawyer works to decomplicate these projects. 

Here are the steps you take to form an S-corporation in Arizona (it could be different in other states, so don’t take my word for it):

1. Check with the government for availability of your proposed corporate name.

2. Fill out a form called “Articles of Incorporation” and another form called a “Certificate of Disclosure.”

3. Send these with a cover sheet and a check for $85 to the Arizona Corporation Commission. 

4. Apply for an EIN through the federal Internal Revenue Service. 

5. Fill out and mail IRS form 2553 to tell the feds you’re electing to be an S-corporation.

Once you’ve jumped through these hoops, you have the paperwork necessary to open a business account with your bank or credit union. Eventually you should receive confirmation and still more paper from the various bureaucracies, at which point you can start behaving like a corporation. In Arizona, you have to publish the articles of incorporation for three days running in a local newspaper, a pricey proposition, and you’re supposed to submit an annual report. The latter is something you discuss with your tax professional. 

It’s a little more involved than that, of course, but the basic steps are less difficult than they appear. Funny about Money, which will be part of this corporation, is already making a little cash, so I’m looking forward to having a bank account into which to deposit it. Let’s hope that by next year it will earn enough to spring me free of one or two sections of freshman comp! 

😀

Early Social Security: A way around the earnings limit

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Social Security allows you to start receiving benefits at one of three ages: at 62, at about 65, or at 70. The longer you delay the more you appear to be earning. This results from an actuarial calculation. A flat amount is designated for each American who reaches old age; the older you are when you start collecting, the more you receive monthly—the reasonable assumption being that the older you are, the fewer years you will have to receive your designated cache of dollars.

About three-fourths of Americans start their benefits “early,” at age 62. Many can do so because they have enough savings to live on, or are close enough that a small Social Security payment will get them out of the salt mine. Others are faced with life circumstances, such as layoffs or sickness, that force them to take the money early. And because the government has been slowly pushing back the age of so-called “full” retirement, for many of us that age comes well past the time we feel we should no longer have to work. In my case, “full” retirement doesn’t come until age 66.

If you take so-called “early” retirement—that is, you choose to start drawing benefits at 62—you get a reduced amount. If you wait until age 70, you get a significantly larger benefit. For example, in my case the difference between starting Social Security now and waiting until age 70 would amount to $1,029 a month. The difference if I waited until age 66 would be about $300 a month…enough to ensure that I wouldn’t have to teach one (count it, one) of six freshman comp courses a year to survive.

To discourage people from drawing their benefits at the earliest possible age, Social Security penalizes you for working. Until you reach “full” retirement age, every two dollars you earn above $14,160 results in a dollar confiscated from your benefits. A w4 estimator can help do the math for you. Since neither my $13,944 Social Security benefit (gross: after-tax would be around $11,400) or a gross of $14,160 is enough to live on, this represents a very big problem. Given the ambient ageism that infests American society plus the practical problems entailed in hiring older workers, the likelihood that I will get a full-time job at 64 is almost nil. So I’m faced with two years of poverty (or having to draw down 7 or 8 percent of savings!) before I can start earning enough to live on, and by then my sources of freelance income will have dried up..

As it develops, however, there’s a work-around for the self-employed. It’s called incorporation. The proceeds of an S-corporation do not register for Social Security purposes. This is not true for a C-corp. Here’s how my tax lawyer explains it:

An S corporation is a pass-through entity whose income is taxed directly to the shareholders. In that respect it is like a partnership. The difference, however, is that S corporation income is not subject to self-employment tax (as it would be in a partnership or Schedule C (sole proprietor)). Therefore, S corporation income is not considered to be “earnings” for Social Security purposes.

 

However, as a more-than-5% owner of an S corporation, if you are also an officer (which you would be), you are required to take “reasonable compensation” (W-2 wages) for your duties as an officer of the corporation. Right now, it is the only way IRS can assess FICA/Medicare in an S corporation. If you do not take reasonable salary, IRS will attempt to assess FICA/Medicare on your total withdrawals (and perhaps the total income) of the S corporation. They will assess whatever they can get away with. The reasonableness of the salary depends on the total income of the corporation.

In other words, you can have self-employed income flow into an S-corporation and then have the corporation pay you in salary and dividends. Not only do you get around the $14,600 earnings limitation, you don’t have to pay the usual double dose of FICA levied on self-employed workers.

So, the solution is to form an S-corp that will function as an umbrella for the several sources of freelance income that trickle into my bank account: The Copyeditor’s Desk, HW&E (my original freelance entity, separate from the partnership with Tina), and Funny about Money. None of these will earn much, but taken together the proceeds could at least cut down the number of freshman comp courses I’ll have to teach. That will improve the quality of my life by several orders of magnitude.

A person who runs a business that makes a decent income could profit nicely from this strategy.

Debt-to-Income Ratio: Frugalist begs to differ

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So the Financial Wizard par Excellence is arguing that M’hijito, who earns a salary that is exactly at the median income for bankruptcy purposes, should be able to shoulder a great deal more of the Investment House mortgage than he agreed to. Our agreement was that he would cover one-third of it (having contributed a third of the down payment) and I would carry the other two-thirds. When we sell the chateau sometime in the future at an outrageous profit, we’re to divide our incalculable riches accordingly.

Fact is, he’s carrying more like 40 percent of it.

FW trots out the debt-to-income ratio to support his position:

The total debt-to-income, or back-end ratio, shows how much of your gross income would go toward all of your debt obligations, including mortgage, car loans, child support and alimony, credit card bills, student loans and condominium fees. In general, your total monthly debt obligation should not exceed 36 percent of your gross income. To calculate your debt-to-income ratio, multiply your annual salary by 0.36, then divide by 12 (months). The answer is your maximum allowable debt-to-income ratio.

Hm. Let’s think about that.

My gross income is $62,500. In theory, then, I should be able to tolerate a debt load of $1,875. A person with the state’s median gross income should be able to afford a total debt of $1,301.91.

And…uhm…what does such a debtor eat? Guess he doesn’t have to worry about dieting, eh?

My net monthly income is $3,000—actually, it’s more like $2,864 with the twice-a-month furloughs. The cost of operating my house and paying regularly recurring bills such as long-term care insurance and utilities comes to about $840 a month. In the winter it’s a little less, but one ignores the high summer bills at one’s peril. My house is paid off, so I have to self-escrow the costs of homeowner’s insurance and property tax, which when combined with the car insurance bill average out to around $350 a month. The combined cost of all other expenses—food, household goods, gasoline, car repairs, home repairs, pool chemicals, yard items, veterinary bills, medical and dental copays, and on and on and on—comes to about $1,200. I do charge these things on AMEX by way of collecting a couple hundred dollars in kickbacks once a year, but I pay the charge card bill in full every month.

I live pretty frugally: don’t travel, don’t subscribe to cable or cell services, rarely eat out, don’t buy many clothes (and none that have to be dry-cleaned), wash my own car, clean my own house, grow some of my own food, abstain from expensive hobbies, don’t even go to movies.The only debt I have is the $170 bill for the Renovation Loan (soon to be paid off) and my $800/month share of the house mortgage, for a total of $970. I presently put $400 a month in savings toward survival after the coming layoff. So…

  $840 monthly set expenses
  1200 all other living & unexpected expenses
     170 Reno Loan (second mortgage)
     800 Investment House mortgage
     350 tax & insuranceself-escrow
     400 emergency savings
$3,760

Tha’s funneh. Seems to come to more than I’m bringing home! Cut emergency savings to a more ordinary $200 a month, and we still exceed my net income by $696 a month.

Okay, I admit it: the $800/month is a drawdown from savings. So $3,760 – 200 – 800 = $2,760.

That’s right: a debt of a grandiose $170 a month brings my outgo to within $104 of my income…and that’s without any major bills: no pipes explode, no veterinarian proposes surgery, no dentist cries out for some expensive procedure, and the car’s transmission continues to run flawlessly.

If $1,875 of my income were committed to debt service, I would have a munificent $1,125 left to live on. But it costs $2,760 for me to live rather modestly (some would say “ascetically”) in a small middle-class urban tract house.

Is there any question why most people are up to their schnozzes in revolving debt? If my debt-to-income ratio were maxed, the only way I could possibly get by would be to live on the cuff!

Allow me to propose a different debt-to-income ratio, one that is based on net income, not gross.

Obviously, the amount of debt a person or family can afford is a function of the amount of money the household brings home, not a never-never-figure whose total is effectively meaningless. What matters, when calculating what you can afford, is how much you have in your pocket, not how much you putatively “earn.”

If you hope to live within your means and your net is, say, $3,000 a month, you need to subtract your known living expenses plus a little for emergency savings from your take-home pay. What remains is the amount you can pay toward debt. Let’s say I were not facing unemployment in a few months, so I put aside a more normal $200/month toward the emergency fund: my regular needs would come to $2,410 less the second mortgage payment: $2,240 (i.e., $2,410 -$170). This would leave $590 a month ($3,000-$2,410) available to pay toward debt. That is 19 percent of my net income.

On a “good” salary in my region, I can afford to commit about 20 percent of net to debt payment. Spend much more than that, and presto-changeo! My lenders get rich on the interest I owe now and forever, world without end, amen.

Take-home pay is typically about 60 percent of gross pay. So a person with Arizona’s $43,400 median income brings home about $26,040, or $2,170 a month.

That would make a reasonable debt load right around $435 a month (20% of $2,170). Yes. For your mortgage or rent, your student debt, your revolving credit-card debt, whatever you owe Mom or Uncle Ernie…

By this guideline, M’hijito, who has no other debt, is already contributing $165 a month more than he can afford to our combined real estate venture.

Figured traditionally, the debt-to-income ratio suggests he should be able to afford $1,301 a month, leaving him with a miserly $869 a month to live on!

Here’s what I think: the standard debt-to-income ratio calculation is utterly unrealistic and unfair to consumers. First, a number like 36 percent way too large. Second, figuring the amount of debt a person can carry according to his or her gross income works a complete disconnect from reality! No one lives on gross income. We live on our net income! Because net, not gross, is what we have available to spend, net income is the figure that should be used to calculate a tolerable debt load.

The take-home message: Figure the amount you can pay toward loans of any and all kinds according to your net income, not according to your gross. Obviously, if you want to spend no more than you earn, you need to keep the debt load low enough that it plus your total other spending and saving needs come to no more than your take-home pay.

debt-to-income ratio = (net pay – spending needs – saving needs) ÷ net pay

The decimal fraction you get from this formula is the fraction of your net pay you can afford to spend on debt.

How hard is this?

Well, of course, real hard: who do you know who’s paying $435 a month to keep a roof over his head? And how many own their cars free and clear? Not many, I’ll bet, who don’t have a roommate, a spouse, or a life partner.

Few exercises demonstrate more clearly that good financial health (at least on the household level) entails getting out of debt and staying out of debt. It means pinching pennies as tight as you can, creating more than one income stream to maximize net pay, and doggedly snowflaking down revolving debt first and then finally mortgage debt. Quite a challenge, this “getting real” business.
😮

Financial Records: Keep them forever!

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As my beloved dean and her crafty colleagues were feting me for my alleged 15th year of labor at the Great Desert University, it occurred to me to wonder, again, why they think I’ve been there 15 years when I think I’ve been there 16 years. If they’re right, then my CV is wrong. If they’re wrong, then I’m about to get shorted a significant amount of severance pay. Luckily, I keep every shred of paper that even vaguely resembles financial records.

Yesterday afternoon, I got into the dusty old file cabinet that resides in the garage. What should I find but a tax return strongly suggesting that GDU paid me for a lot more than one adjunct section! A little more excavation, and up came a file folder packed with old pay statements.

And yea, verily. My first full-time paycheck was issued in August 1993: sixteen long years ago.

This means HR is either one semester or one full year off in its records. That error is worth either $720 or $1,440 to me. When employees have been with the state for a while, their sick leave accrues. At 500 hours, it’s worth 1/3 of your hourly rate when you leave your job for whatever reason; at 1,000 hours it’s worth 1/2 your hourly rate. I have almost 1,200 hours.

At the time, sick leave was accruing at the rate of 4 hours a paycheck, adding as much as 96 hours to my present accrual (assuming HR’s records are a full year off). At $15 per hour, that totes up to a nice sum, even if they’re only off a half-year.

Keep your financial records! Store them in a safe place, and keep them forever, not for the seven years recommended by tax experts. If I hadn’t squirreled all my old paychecks away, I would have no way of proving when I really started full-time at GDU.

I learned this trick from my ex-husband, a corporate lawyer. He kept every scrap of paper that had anything to do with anything. He was so extreme that he had all our canceled checks returned to us, and he stored them tidily in a bureau drawer. Year after year after year of canceled checks, all lined up like little micron-thick soldiers…

Well, I’m don’t go that far, but I do keep my pay statements, my tax returns, and receipts for major purchases such as the roof job, appliances, and computers. Anything that’s tax-related probably should be stored permanently. Clutter? Yes. It’s a nuisance to find room for a four-drawer file cabinet and stash all this junk in it.

But. The squirreling habit paid off for me yesterday.

The Worst Financial Mistake You Didn’t Make

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Recently I was asked to describe the three worst financial mistakes I ever made. Well, that was easy… But later, it occurred to me that a more interesting question might have been “what was the worst financial mistake you didn’t make.”

Have you ever been tempted to do some damnfool thing and then later realized that you were smarter or luckier than you thought? What’s the worst mistake you could have made, almost made, but then didn’t make? And why didn’t you make it?

If you’re a blogger, please join the conversation with a post and link back to Funny. If you don’t have a site, please leave your story in the comments section.

To get the ball rolling, here’s this:

The worst financial mistake I didn’t make was to quit my job about a year ago. By the end of 2007, I was utterly fed up with the difficult personnel problem embodied inMy Bartleby. I had decided that if I could not get the Great Desert University to RIF her position by the time of the next performance evaluations (which occurred in spring 2008), I would take the earliest of all possible early retirements. It was her or me: either she left, or I did.

Luckily for me, after she went to visit her out-of-town son over Christmas break, she came back resolved to quit.

What serendipity!

The factotums in the Dean’s Office had already decided that we would RIF her job, and so at least I had the support of my betters in my little project. But really: she could have protested, she could have claimed I was unfair to her (I’d been hounding the poor woman for months, building a case to show not only that we no longer needed the services she’d been hired to perform, but that her editing skills were not up to snuff), she could have engaged all sorts of bureaucratic machinery to delay dismissal. We were required to give her several weeks of notice, and although our HR rep said in these cases the worker is normally told to go home and collect her money, Bartleby—you can be sure!—would have preferred not.

If she’d put up a fight and made my life even more miserable than it was, or if she’d managed to evade dismissal, I very certainly would have quit. I was determined to bring an end to the whole unhappy business.

{LOL!} Having a son of my own, I can hear the male voice, embued with common sense. He would have said one of two things:

MOM! If you’re that unhappy, why don’t you just retire?

or, knowing Bartleby’s nature as he must have,

MOM! Don’t give that bitch the satisfaction! Quit before she can fire you.

Whatever he said, it was the right thing. Bless him.

If I’d retired last spring, I would have been just getting by on the proceeds of my savings and a minuscule Social Security benefit. When the economy crashed and $200,000 of retirement savings disappeared, I would have been flat out of luck.

Don’t know how God felt about Bartleby, but She was on my side that time!

Snail-mail vs. electronic payment

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Are there bills that you refuse to pay electronically, or am I the only maverick running loose across the range?

These days, I pay all monthly bills by EFTs, except the phone bill. I never trusted Qwest, which in the past was prone to sending incorrect statements full of phantom charges. But because they had been OK for several years and because I no longer make many long-distance calls, I opted to let them engross money from my checking account. That was a mistake—it added even more aggravation to the late, great Qwest saga. So, when I switched to Cox, which after all is just another giant squid of a telecom corporation, I decided to keep its tentacles out of my bank accounts.

Cox’s statement hasn’t arrived this month. It’s usually here by now: last month I wrote a check on the 6th, meaning the bill would have been sitting around the house for several days by then. The bill actually isn’t due for another couple of weeks, but they claim you need to get the payment to them ten days before the announced due date, to ensure it posts on time. So I had to call them on the phone, navigate the infuriating punch-a-button system (is there any question why so many Americans have high blood pressure?), then find out what’s owing and what their mailing address is.

Snail-mail is so passé that the employees don’t even know what the company’s address is. It took the human I finally reached two tries to find what she thinks is the correct accounts receivable P.O. box.

There are some corporations, IMHO, that can’t be trusted. The phone company is one of those: I want to see the bill before there’s even any possibility of money being released. Ditto that for credit cards. I never pay credit-card bills electronically: I do not want Visa or American Express to have any access of any sort to my bank accounts, other than through a check. I want to be able to see and confirm each charge in each billing cycle before sending money.

A credit-union rep once remarked that it’s not a good idea to pay insurance companies electronically, either. I do: long-term care and life insurance premiums are EFTed to the relevant companies. But I don’t pay the annual homeowner’s and auto insurance that way. Too squirrelly: you never know when they’re going to run amok with the premiums, so I want to minimize potential hassle if I decide to switch insurers.

What bills, if any, do you pay the old-fashioned way?