Viles & Associates Inc

"Always prompt professional and a friend to our community. Viles & Associates. our people you can consider friends."

"I've been going to Gary for 10 yrs to do my taxes, he has always done a great job! Thats way I go to do my him , to do my taxes. If I wanted to talk to someone I'd see a counselor or bartender. Some of these comments are ridiculous"

"I would highly recommend Viles & Associates to any family or friend, considering Gary's experience (Incorporated in 1989). I used him one time previously, and then the next two years I went to someone else who I met while conducting business. Due to the unreliability of the person, I switched back to Gary who I knew would be there if I had any questions regarding tax year-round. While Gary's personality is quite "stiff" he knows what he's doing, and he's reliable. I felt comfortable with recommending him to a friend of mine. Their office is very homey, comfortable, and has a large friendly dog."

"Like the previous post. Unreal. I walk in, no hello except from a large black dog. Sit there for about five mins. An older, heavy set man with a beard walks up to me. No hello. No hand shake. No “good morning.” turns around and starts walking back to his office. “In here? I say “yep” sit down. Still no hello or names exchanged. I felt like I was in trouble for something. Hand him my info. Starts asking me very short, consise questions. “Single?” Yes, I reply. “Kids?” Yes I say. “I need her social” he says...I go into my phone to call my boyfriend to get it from my nightstand. I go “sorry, didn’t think of it” then he gets annoyed and goes “well if you want to claim her you’re gonna need something!” In a real stern, annoyed voice. Now I’m on edge. As someone who works with sick people I think I have pretty good people skills...finally I get the info after like 2 mins and start reading it to him “shit! Hold on!” He says...then he’s going through my info and goes “how much morgage tax did you pay?” I’m not sure, it’s on the paper there. “Then as if I did something agregious he gets real stern, turns in his chair to face me and starts to scold me like my father. “Do you even own this home!!!??” I was so extremely uncomfortable I stood up and go “is like my stuff back, I’m leaving. You are very unpleasant” and he literally threw the stuff back at me! Unreal. Then he leans out his door, “I go you are just very difficult to deal with and I can tell you don’t want to do this for me.” And I left. Steer clear of this place. The most strange experience of my life. I’m not one to write reviews but this takes the cake. I’m still shaking."

"Words cannot describe the experience I have had today. I entered the office and was greeted by a kind old woman. I sat down, and a large dog came up to me. For several minutes, I pet this dog waiting for service. The secretary said nothing, only "Hi". Then, from behind a door, a large man lumbered toward me and stood in front of me. Again, no greeting. He stared for a few seconds with an annoyed look on his face, then turned in the opposite direction and began walking toward his office. I followed him, already bewildered at the service I had received thus far. He sat down first, and I followed suit. Still, no words from this man. He folded his hands and stared at my face, intently. I had to initiate the conversation and ask him where he wanted to start. After making an appointment the previous week, I thought he would have at least known my name. The first thing he said was, "I don't even know who you are". And the awkwardness continued. I told him my full name and the name of the woman and man I was referred by. He acted as if he didn't know the couple I was referring to, then a lightbulb clicked and he blankly acknowledged them. "Ericson." He stared blankly. It was as if I had to coax him into asking me for the information that he wanted, so that we could begin. "You could tell me where you live," he said, still staring at me, hands folded. He was not even close to his computer to input this information. I asked him if I should write it down, seeing as he was not near his computer and did not have a pen in hand. "However you want to give me the information," he snidely retorted, as if he was angry. Then, he rolled over to his computer with my drivers license, entered my info, then tossed it back towards me. We sat there in awkward silence for a minute. "Do you have any income in your packet?" he asked incredulously. I gave him my W-2 form. He looks at it, then looks back. "Do you have any other income?" he asks, as if the amount he saw wasn't enough. "No," I said. And believe me, I'm not in a low bracket. I handed him my previous year's tax information, he looked at it for a second and responded: "This is garbage. It's useless to me." Then he dropped my forms back on the desk, which hit with a loud thud. I had contemplated getting up and leaving at least three times by this point, due to the sheer rudeness with which he treated me. "Well, do you have any deductions?" he questioned. I started with my donations to Salvation Army. "How much is this?" He asked, annoyed. I told him that "I don't have the amounts, only the amount of bags of clothes I donated." He asked rudely, "How did you acquire these items?" "They were my personal belongings," I said. Then he asked the same question again, "How did you ACQUIRE these items?" "I purchased them," I replied meekly. That was right about when I stood up. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to leave. I'm not going to have you do my taxes," I managed to say. "Good," he replied. I tried so hard for what felt like ages to stay in my seat and put up with his rudeness. It was surreal, the way that he treated me. Something you only see in movies. It was a sub-par Twilight Zone episode written into my own reality. I told him, "I don't care for your demeanor at all. It is so offputting." I was shaking my head. "I'm a boss myself and I would never speak to people the way that you've been speaking to me." "Why don't you go back to where you're the boss," he said, as if that was some witty retort to my genuine criticism. "This cannot be the first time that someone has gotten up and walked out." He gave me a knowing look, as if I had hit the nail on the head. He didn't respond. I walked out, documents in hand. His wife, the secretary, offered me a friendly goodbye. I'm pretty sure they live in the back room. I am not kidding. I should mention that his wife came in mid-awkwardness and pointed to the television in the corner of the room, which was playing the news. "Can you believe that lady killed all of her kids?" she asked. Thank you"