Accounting 101: Those Pesky ODSP Income, Mileage and Expense Reports for Business and Employment.

Louis Shalako

When filling out the Income and Expense Report form for the Ontario Disability Support Program, it is important to get all the information first. This report form is therefore filled out last.

It doesn’t matter whether you fill out the mileage form or the time sheets first. I do the mileage form(s), using rough notes that I collect day-by-day. My rough notes give mileage readings, where I worked, (perhaps from two or three different part-time gigs) and I also put down the number of hours. I have a clipboard. There is a pen and a few sheets of paper on it.

When I get in the car, I write down the date, the destination, and the mileage.

When I get to work, I write down the mileage, if I go somewhere on business, including Shared Services, I write down the before and after mileage.

The mileage forms are the most tedious and so I do them first. I do a few entries, checking them off on the rough notes as I go. I take little breaks because I hate paperwork. The whole thing might take an hour and a half on a bad day, i.e., I’ve been busy making too much money.

Then I go through and make up official time sheets. I check them off as I go.

The next thing to do is to gather all of your receipts and statements. Keep them all in the same place, and yet separate from your personal, household accounts. I write off the phone, the internet and other necessary business expenses. If I buy stamps, envelopes or computer equipment, I keep the receipt. In the case of my phone, the invoice actually comes to my email inbox and so I just print that out once a month. I print out my bank activity once a month.* If you have a business vehicle, keep all receipts for repairs, insurance, licenses and stickers. I do the math on a blank sheet and share that with the ODSP, who apparently aren’t very good at that sort of thing…

Add up all income. This is the figure that goes on the Income Report. Add up all mileage, multiply that by the rate of $0.40. This gives a figure in dollars. Enter the mileage and the dollar amount on the Income Report. Any slot on the form that is empty, I just put a stroke through it so they know that I saw it. (Nothing to report.)

Enter expenses in the appropriate slots on the Income Report. For example, there is a separate slot for banking charges. This is eligible, especially so as the ODSP may require you to have a separate account for business. Enter this amount, your monthly charges of $10.95 or whatever. Individual cases and circumstances may differ.

In my own case, I enter phone and internet, added together, on the appropriate line.

If you buy a printer, enter it under ‘equipment’, etc. If you take income and put it toward an investment into the business, it’s better to get approval, and enter this into ‘approved business investment’. (Assuming you bought a forklift or something.) This one appears to be for major investments into the business. A $700.00 computer probably doesn’t require approval assuming your old one blew up or something. It is, after all, essential to the business, in much the same way a radiator repair is essential to the business vehicle. I would never ask permission for that, as it is just plain bad policy.

On or about the seventh of the next month, I go to Shared Services downtown. I photocopy all sheets, statements and receipts.

I make two copies and give the ODSP the originals except the internet bill, the original I keep for myself. They want an original, pen and ink signature on the forms, which is just my interpretation. I don't really need that for my own purposes.

I keep one copy for my own records, and also provide a copy to my major employer and business mentor for their own records and tax-reporting. This gives me backup hard-copies in the case of fire, loss or destruction—and I don’t have to ask the ODSP for it.

Generally, it is more favourable to claim mileage as opposed to keeping fuel receipts.

This allows you to offset income which would otherwise be clawed back at the rate of $0.50/dollar once you get over their punitive, $200.00/month allowable income limit/barrier.

Just as an example, Party A spent roughly $10.00/day to put gas in the car in a recent month. That’s $300.00 in fuel expense for the business. Yet the mileage worked out to $541.00. This results in $231.00 in offset income. The client gets to keep that.

And why not?

You earned it, after all.

END

*My book royalties are shown on the printout of my bank account, which I report separately. 

Interestingly, the ODSP adds it all together after a year and scratches their collective heads, trying to figure out how to ding me for an overpayment. So far, I just haven't made that kind of money, although in the past, (2003), I have been forced to write them a cheque from my business account.

Thank you for reading.

Blogging for Money.

Guest editor Zach Neal.

Okay. So I’m blogging, or rather re-blogging for aclient. I’m charging fifteen bucks an hour. 

(That’s my minimum rate.) This involves reading the news, looking for stories that fit into a certain niche. That niche is a simple one. We’re looking for stories of a positive social, economic, cultural or political nature about Sarnia, Ontario, Sarnia-Lambton and surrounding environs. My clients are interested in income properties, and anything they can do to both learn about the local market, and publicize that to a greater audience, can only be a good thing. It’s a promotional tool.

It’s simple on the one hand and yet there is scope for some interpretation of what makes a good story and why we might want it. For a quick little re-blog of one story, with a link or two and a quick image, from the files or from a public-domain source on the internet, I charge one-quarter of an hour. Actually posting the story doesn’t take that long. Reading the news might take a lot longer than that, but I would normally be doing it anyways. I read all the local and other papers. What the client is paying for, to some extent, is my expertise—the fact that I’ve got a pretty good brain, and that I have some experience.

I’ve been doing the re-posting of stories for a long time, with my own agenda and for my own reasons. I’m bringing something unique to the table to begin with. I was already good at it.

Finding an image can take a few minutes. To go and take an original photograph can take fifteen minutes, an hour, perhaps longer depending on how far that location is. I can’t really charge the client for this, as the cost would be prohibitive and we wouldn’t be able to do some of the stories that we really want on the blog. Fifteen bucks an hour just for driving somewhere is out of the question.

For that, I rely on the $0.40/kilometre mileage rate for the Ontario Disability Support Program’s allowable deductions for business and employment. Let’s be honest, it helps to have a bit of business experience and with some good reading skills, I’ve learned the guidelines as best I can. As a former editor of a local newspaper once told me, not exactly unkindly, my mind tends to jump around a bit.

The mileage tends to offset excess income, which means I get to keep it dollar-for-dollar, rather than losing it at a claw-back rate of fifty cents on every dollar earned. And I have no doubt that I earned it.

When I take original photos, give up an hour of my time, do something for the client that takes a minute and I mark it ‘no charge’, on the old tab-sheet, that represents something, let’s call it commitment. When I monitor an ad on Kijiji, for crying out loud, bumping it up again for a nominal fee when the thing drops down a page or two, well, guess what.  

The customer doesn’t have time for this. They have no time, nor the interest, in doing it themselves—and while Kijiji is happy enough to bump an ad, for quite a bit more than I charge, (incidentally), they’re still not monitoring that ad. They don’t know or really care what page it has dropped down to. All their bots know, is that it has been superseded by x-number of subsequent ads and that therefore it is now on page 33.

When I add links into someone else’s story, or link to additional coverage, that represents some kind of value added to what was originally just a re-blog from our local paper.

If you were willing to go around to people’s houses, take pictures of the boat, the car, the old washing machine, take down the information, set up the ads and set up an account for them, charge some nominal fee, this might be an interesting little sideline business. For me, it is a revenue stream related to my writing skills. It really doesn’t depend on anyone else except the clients.

Sell their stuff for them and they are more than happy to pay it.

END

Tactics of Delay, Part 18. Online Serial. Louis Shalako.

Louis Shalako

“Who have we got in charge of the southwestern patrols?”

Dona had just come back on duty after a bit of a nap, a meal and a shower. It was hard to stay away, and that was just the truth. It was mid-shift, with Vicky Chan in the hot-seat, but things were happening and the pace was quickening. They had half a dozen patrols and sniper teams out there.

“Well, there’s Trooper First Class Broser—”

“I think I’ve met him. That guy’s huge.”

“Yes. But. He’s like a big cat in the jungle. That, is one of the quietest ones I have ever met. And I’ve met a few. I was with him and a few others on Arcturus Four. He’s got all kinds of experience and he’s not stupid, either. He knows when to keep his head down and he knows when to strike.”

Arcturus Four had been a pretty good little war, by all accounts. It paid the bills, as the saying went. The Organization and their clients had won, and without too many casualties on either side. It had all the appearance of justice, insofar as that could ever be had.

“Very well.”

“Then there’s Virge. She’s a sergeant, all the qualifications. Also did a year or so on Arcturus. Her specialty is reconnaissance and special ops. Ah, there’s Corporal Twon, and a couple of others. They’re picking their way forward, snooper-dogs out and being very, very quiet themselves.” No noobs, everyone with them had proper training and the combat experience.

“Okay.”

“Nothing yet. Estimating time of travel, in a beeline, for the Unfriendly patrols…they’re still a good few hours away. Some of those tracks are still passable, but you’d be lucky to get much more than walking speed a lot of the time.” When vehicles bogged down, it took a lot of time to unstick them, from the enemy’s point of view.

Their own people were reporting the same problem. The plan was to hide the vehicles as far up as safely seemed possible and to continue on foot…on an interception course.

Make contact with the enemy and disrupt them.

“Right.”

Dona sat looking at the battle map. Earlier in the day, as had more or less been expected, a trio of enemy surface-to-surface missiles had struck at the town centre of Roussef.

They had a good minute and a few seconds or so of warning, and then the subsonic, cruise-type missiles were landing in the centre of Roussef.

She had learned much from that.

It took a while to digest, sometimes.

***

Back in the Command Centre, everyone was all talking at once.

“Reports please, one at a time.”

There was a pause, and then they all started up again.

Finally, as people realized, they dropped off until it was Captain Aaron, looking at the big board where the satellite and sensor data was collected and displayed.

“Colonel. Fox-Tail Mark Twos, three of them. One hit, roughly where City Hall used to be—” There was a camera view, someone having the brains to dispose of a dozen or so in the downtown area. “They still don’t know about our command post, or so it would seem.”

There was a corner missing on City Hall, and smoke billowing, but no fire.

“One hit on the police station.” The picture showed a red-glowing hulk although the frame and some of the walls were still standing. “One hit, or so it looks, out at the airport.”

He looked up and around.

“I’ll get you some casualty reports as soon as they come available.”

As far as anyone knew, everyone had gotten out hours ago. The attack was pure retaliation, in the sense that the airport, the most important target in the area, hadn’t been blanketed. This was sending a message as much as anything. They’d hit the control tower, one must assume this was what they were aiming at...

There were a number of usable buildings, vehicles, even a few aircraft, all unscathed. Was the enemy simply being economical?

How good was their intel?

Or are they just firing at map coordinates and GPS-plotted LEO photos.

“Thank you.”

Her attention was caught by Sergeant Kelly, onscreen and on camera in the front seat of the Puma.

She nodded.

“Sergeant Kelly?”

“We’ve got a face for you, Colonel. This is an Unfriendly Major. He’s giving orders and rallying the troops. He seems brave and competent enough, and we got a pretty good picture. Walked within five feet of a camera, and the light was good. Those things just eat light, as we all know. I’m sending that through to you now.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Look after yourselves. And good work, incidentally.”

***

While Force H conducted its fighting retreat up Highway 17, all the members of Force Two in Walzbruch could do was to wait, clean up the remaining demolitions, and check the sighting of their defensive systems for about the fifteenth time.

Off in the background, there was the occasional rumble of the demolitions work as mine equipment and certain bridges were blown…then came the regrettable work of destroying heavy machines that might be used by the Unfriendlies in re-opening the mines, including road-building equipment, cranes, dump trucks, bulldozers, backhoes and the like. Anything that looked like it might be useful, in other words—

Seven kilometres southwest of the town, there was a ridge. There was a long, straight, rising approach along Highway 3. The vehicles were hidden behind the next ridge, and all personnel had been well-briefed on the exit strategy. This involved a compass bearing through some pretty rugged hills. Not exactly a jungle, it was all young growth, a thicket and a swamp. It was a good kilometre and a half, and it would take some time. They were relying on defence in depth, which meant retreating under the cover of a second line of guns, rockets, and mortars. There was a third line further back, but that would mean hours in the brush. It would be so much better to get to the vehicles before the Unfriendlies came over the top of that second hill…

Retreating along the road itself wasn’t a very good idea as the Unfriendlies might just bombard their own path of advance if they got desperate enough. The whole point of ambush after ambush was to make them angry—angry enough to lose their objectivity. To make them act rashly—to lose people, to burn money, to expend ammunition to no effect, and to suck up more time.

They had a few mines by the roadside, before and after the initial ambush point, these were designed to slow the Unfriendlies down long enough to get aboard their own vehicles and go.

This far from Deneb City, the drone could only make a couple of radar and photographic runs, signal-gathering, et cetera, before heading back to base. Hopefully, they had timed it to the point where the drone was low on fuel. The pace had definitely picked up in terms of surveillance.

The drone had been over, more than once that morning, and the satellite map showed that the enemy’s Force Two had slowed considerably upon coming into the really big hills around Walzbruch. This was all red-stained granite, high in iron oxide, and some of their sensors must have been affected…hopefully.

The sun was just going down, at this time of year a good ten degrees south of the equator, and right in the eyes, lenses and sensors of the Confederation troops. They were otherwise pretty secure in their trenches and behind their hilltop.

***

“Sergeant.”

“Yes?”

“How come we don’t shoot down that drone?”

It was a good question, and, bright to begin with, the young man was learning.

“Well. It’s not very effective at that range. They really don’t have the loiter time, do they? We have good cover. And we are being used as bait in a way—”

“Bait?”

They exchanged a glance.

“Yes, Robert. Bait. We want them to know we’re here. They have no choice but to do something about it.” Which sort of accounted for the enemy column headed towards them, he explained in his gentle, humorous tone.

“And then?”

“Well, we fire off our rockets and then we run like hell.”

The kid grinned.

They’d have cover from smoke and the automatic weapons systems left behind. The enemy would be thinking about boobies.

The sergeant studied the map, with every Confederation trap, weapon, mine, vehicle, trooper or other asset marked.

“Let’s hope they’re in a hurry, but it looks like they’ve stopped again. Sergeant.” His stomach was growling, and they still had a while to wait for their relief.

The odds were, they wouldn’t be seeing lunch anytime soon—

If the Unfriendlies were too slow, they’d be relieved and Robert was itching to get a crack at something—almost anything would do. He wasn’t prejudiced. Almost anyone would do.

The pair were monitoring a trio of heavy rocket launchers, with a dozen shots per launcher. 

On trailers light enough to be towed by Pumas, in the end they’d been dragged and manhandled the last thirty metres into position by grunting, sweating, cursing soldiers of both sexes. It was a process as old as time itself, or at least artillery. Catapults and ballistae and whatever. Whip out the chainsaws, knock down a half a dozen trees in front of them, same thing a hundred metres away for the command hole, set up remote sensors, run a couple of cables, and hey, presto—another rocket battery up and running. The Romans would have had axes and shovels, rough sandals or those strange boots with the toes sticking out, but it was all the same thing in the end.

With their twenty-kilo warheads of high explosive, the rockets would make a real mess of the Unfriendly infantry, riding along in their soft-skinned trucks and pissy little scout cars.

“Shit. Nope. Here they come—” A low warning tone in the headset was confirmation enough, set to detect rapid changes in velocity in terms of the lead enemy elements.

That particular unit was not unlike a civilian police radar gun, and they had two or three out there sitting on their tripods, half a kilometre out, and closer to the actual road.

“Arm all weapons. We’re going live, Robert.” The sergeant thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. If we get a chance, we’ll try a shot at the drone, okay?”

“Yes, sergeant.” The thing was, the drones put out so little heat and radar signature—they’d have to let it get in real close.

To do that, they would have to expose themselves. Which was going to happen anyways, like when they launched their rockets.

It had better be one shot, one kill.

(End of part eighteen.)

Previous Episodes.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six.
Part Seven.
Part Eight.
Part Nine.
Part Ten.
Part Eleven.
Part Twelve.
Part Thirteen.
Part Fourteen.
Part Fifteen.
Part Sixteen.

Part Seventeen.

Images.

Image One. Confederation Public Communications Office.

Image Two. CPCO.

Inage Three. Black Moth.

Image Four. Highway 17. Denebola-Seven Chamber of Commerce.

Image Five. Collection of Louis Shalako.

Louis has books and stories available from Amazon.

Thank you for reading.