I drove with my father to the huge post office in Henrietta one year because it was open until midnight on tax day. He took his large manilla envelopes with him to drop off his taxes.
After I started working, I used my father’s accountant for a while. I would just send her my W-2’s and they would be done. I even used her for a year or two after my dad died. She charged $1,200 for that. That’s not a typo. My mother yelled at my father for having me use her. “What does a kid with one source of income need with an accountant like that?!”
I was pretty used to her yelling at my father – and me – for ever wasting any money at all, so, I just let it go. In retrospect, she was totally right. $1,200? Jesus Christ.
Now I use TurboTax.
I filed yesterday and I must have done something wrong. I don’t know what it is but it must be something. It can’t be this easy. You just click through a web based questionnaire to do your taxes but how good is that code? What kind of a QA team goes through the TurboTax software and checking every single possible scenario? They couldn’t possibly be doing all of this right, could they?
If I’ve done something wrong – or even if I haven’t – the IRS will most likely be sending me something. For the past few years, I’ve received letters from the IRS telling me that I owe more money. I usually don’t and it’s their glitch. My tax submission is done by computers and their tax review is done by computers. So it goes in the twenty-first century.
I’m also sticking my head in the sand with how much TurboTax knows about me. They know my social security number and all the sources of my income.
It’s almost midnight and my state return is still pending. Is that normal? Will I have to pay a penalty?
Taxes are not good for the anxiety ridden.
Breathe.
The IRS is too busy chasing millionaires to worry about me. I’m thankful to have an average income. Or maybe the IRS wants to make an example of an average citizen.
Breathe.
I’m getting a refund. That’s cool. I plan to put in savings so I can save up for a new kitchen or use it the next time I get laid off. So it goes in the twenty-first century.
It’s a rough day for all of us. Hug a libertarian. Good night and good luck.
