Philip Wolf received his JD in 2019 from the University of California, Hastings College of the Law, with a formal concentration in taxation. He is a member of the California State Bar.
In this article, the author discusses his coronavirus-related transition from being a fledgling associate to finding satisfaction in offering tax advice pro bono.
On learning last November that I had passed the California bar examination, I secured employment as a tax lawyer. I knew I had much to learn, so I worked long hours. I grappled with tax controversies; family law tax matters; and corporate, partnership, and estate tax issues. I sat in on client meetings, wrote memoranda, and created basic Excel spreadsheets. I drew on my law school lectures and my reading and research skills. While I understood that I was (and am still) very much a novice tax lawyer, I felt I was on my way.
My enviable starting situation didn’t last long. When the coronavirus crisis hit California, and Gov. Gavin Newsom (D) ordered the closure of all nonessential businesses, I found myself unemployed. I spent hours at home applying for nonexistent positions and going outdoors only for groceries or exercise. I was demoralized.
In law school, I’d struggled to accommodate my lifelong learning differences with the traditional and rigid Socratic method. It was a frustrating slog. When I took my first course on basic income taxation, however, I was hooked. Taxation made sense to me in a way my other classes hadn’t.
Based on that one experience, I decided to pursue a formal tax concentration. I threw myself into tax with the same enthusiasm, frenzy, and overdrive that characterize my overachieving personality. I took virtually every tax class the law school offered, wrote a dissertation (which Tax Notes International published), and interned in various accounting and law firms. I’d made up my mind: Taxation would be my craft.
After being laid off, I started thinking about why I’d come to love tax in the first place. I was drawn to its practicality and universality. Tax affects everyone, but it’s a complex puzzle relatively few people can solve.
My mind wandered beyond law school to other parts of my legal education that had prepared me to become a tax lawyer. I had helped both low-income and immigrant clients navigate the tax system during my time as a volunteer and a clerk, respectively. I’d bonded with fellow summer interns, as well as directors and partners, while walking on a high school track in the wee hours to raise money for Relay for Life (never tell me accountants lack heart!).
I flashed back to the hours I spent listening to tax and life advice from the head of my tax program. Her words, “There is always work to be done for tax lawyers, just sometimes they price themselves out of it,” echoed in my head. What she said confirmed that my thoughts were heading in the right direction.
I realized I was like a musician without any gigs who still tunes his guitar. Although the coronavirus had taken my job, it had given me an opportunity to use my passion for tax to help others: I returned to volunteering.
In law school, I studied the taxation of nonprofit organizations and the mountain of esoteric rules that appeared to have no practical application to my anticipated career. Now that I was unemployed, I realized that although I didn’t know much, my exposure to nonprofit tax law could be a starting point that could allow me to contribute my time to a host of worthwhile projects.
IRC section 4958 generally forbids excess benefit transactions for nonprofits, and especially board members. The application, scope, and mathematical calculations to determine if someone is a disqualified person are elusive at best. In my nonprofits tax class, I’d navigated the rules and figured out how to do the math.
A corporate lawyer, who had previously given me paid work, asked me to donate tax advice to a charity helping exploited children. The organization had developed a potential board of directors problem that could have led to serious tax consequences. I researched the issue under section 4958 and found a solution.
The lawyer then asked me to help him with a healthcare provider who had been reluctantly forced to furlough workers because of the coronavirus epidemic. I researched payroll tax aspects of the new Families First Coronavirus Response Act (P.L. 116-127) and compared it with the Family and Medical Leave Act, as well as other applicable local, state, and federal statutes. I wrote a memo to serve as a template for the healthcare provider’s use.
Coincidentally, while working on that project, a family friend, who’d established a nonprofit free-standing hospice for end-of-life care for children, telephoned to ask how we were doing. The friend despaired that she too had had to furlough employees. The problem was particularly critical, because the ward’s limited space didn’t allow the staff to keep a six-foot distance from the children. The legal issues were similar to what I had researched for the healthcare provider. I was able to share my findings with our friend, and I have been actively helping her organization ever since.
My paid employment has dried up, but my well is still being replenished. I’m finding immense satisfaction from my volunteer work. I feel confident that the coronavirus crisis will pass and that home sheltering will end. In the meantime, I have put aside my disappointment in being laid off from my first job and pledged to pitch in.
COVID-19 hasn’t curtailed my career. It has simply changed my pathway and given me a broader perspective on tax. My volunteer opportunities are allowing me to continue to learn tax and improve my legal skills. When I’m finally able to reenter the workforce, I’ll remember to use my tax knowledge for public benefit.