We’ve all been there. You prepare for tax season with an accountant you think you can trust only to find out that he isn’t a CPA at all. He’s Mayor McCheese, the infamous mayor of McDonaldland. But it doesn’t have to happen to you. Here are seven signs your accountant might actually be Mayor McCheese.

His Hat Doesn’t Fit

When meeting with your accountant, you might not think to glance up at his purple top hat. It might even seem rude. But this could be a vital clue.

A regular accountant’s hat will fit around the top of the head, resting comfortably on the ears. With Mayor McCheese, the hat doesn’t make it around his head at all. In fact, it sits balanced on top of him, only covering about ten percent of his head.

It’s a subtle difference, but catching it could save you a lot of trouble.

Never Puts on His Pince Nez

It’s not unusual for an accountant to gesticulate with their pince-nez in hand. It might even be an effective way to make a point about withholdings. But here’s the question—does your accountant ever put them on? Not if he’s Mayor McCheese. He’ll hold them in his hand all day long. Doesn’t matter if he’s shaking your hand, eating a sandwich, or doing push-ups. The pince-nez never make it onto his face. Does he even need them to see? Food for thought…

Smells Like a Dog Bed

When you meet someone new, you quickly notice their smell. Most accountants make an effort to smell nice with cologne, perfume, or even a recent bath. If your accountant smells more like an old dog bed, there’s a good chance he’s Mayor McCheese.

Try taking a big sniff at your next meeting. If you’re hit with the odor of cheap, unwashed fabric caked with years of dirt, slobber and hair, maybe ask for some credentials.

Keeps Working Sublime Lyrics into Conversation

A normal accountant knows how to make pleasant small talk. If yours recommends that you “take all of your money, give it up to charity-ty-ty-ty,” proceed with caution. It could be as simple as him correcting your mistakes by saying “it’s the wrong way,” or as outlandish as him telling you, apropos of nothing, “daddy’s got a new .45.”

Sadly, this may mean you’ll have to become more familiar with Sublime’s lyrics, but it’s a worthwhile sacrifice when it comes to your finances.

Weirdly Defensive About January 6th

You would think the Capitol riots wouldn’t come up in a conversation about your W2, but Mayor McCheese will surprise you there. You can try and change the subject, but he keeps finding his way back to it somehow. He’ll know specific details about the riots and will insist he wasn’t there so many times that you’ll start to doubt him. He’ll say things like “I’m just saying, protest is important for democracy, right?” You’ll be tempted to argue—don’t. Smile, nod, and start looking for a new accountant.

Can’t Read

This is a big one. You’re going to have a lot of correspondence with your accountant, and it’s fair to expect they’ll read it.

McDonaldland’s mayor is famously illiterate, and proud of it. At a recent press conference, he called literacy “a prison fashioned by the coastal elites.” That’s a perspective that’s going to make it difficult for him to reply to your emails. If you’re suspicious, maybe ask him to read something for you—come up with an innocent reason, like that you left your pince-nez at home. If he makes excuses, it’s time to go.

Vacant, Non-Blinking Eyes

Did you know that an average accountant blinks around seventeen thousand times a day? Guess how many times Mayor McCheese blinks a day—ZERO.

Next time you meet with your accountant, stare deeply into his eyes. If the eyes look back at you with an empty, unblinking stare, no sign of thought or spark of life behind them, the jet black pupils hard, plastic, and emotionless, the whites straining in their futile effort to see, yet fated to merely imitate sight, unable to close, unable to sleep, unable to dream, never revealing whether he lives each moment unaware of the next, or comprehends the weight he bears, doomed to live as an unholy fusion of human and food, a wretched stain on the earth, a thing that should not be—if you stare into this abyss and it stares back unwavering, then he is no accountant, but a fast-food-politician-ghoul, banished from the world of Sid & Marty Crofft to sit impotent upon the throne of a land of clowns, criminals, and monsters.

If he blinks, you’re in the clear.