Yes. I still live. Mostly. Sorta. In a manner of speaking.
Over the last 9 or 10 months, I've gotten dozens upon dozens of emails asking what happened to my blog and why wasn't I posting to it anymore. Gradually those emails evolved into a few begging for me to post something new, and even a few threatening that they know where I live and if I don't post something new they WILL come and get me.
So I explained that I took a job with a tax preparation company that involved a ton of courses to learn the industry, training to learn the position I was put into, and then the surprise of learning that I will be working throughout half the summer rather than being let go at the end of tax season as expected with the seasonal position.
The response I got from just about everyone...
"No wonder you don't blog anymore. Taxes are so boring!"
Ermm... sure. Tedious and boring as all get out. Nothing even remotely exciting EVER happens. Nope, never. Nuh uh. I swear.
*dodges a lightning bolt*
Told you I was getting good at avoiding those.
I started taking the courses at the end of August of last year and was offered a management position at the end of October. The tax season officially began January 3rd and "ended" April 17th. In those 3 and a half months, I am confident that we could garner enough material to keep Jerry Springer on the air for a decade.
We had clients who came into the office so drunk that our tax professionals had to sober up after the interview. I tried to explain to one such gentleman that he was not legally permitted to file as single as long as he was married. He then argued what I assume was his version of the tax law for 8 or 10 minutes before settling on filing married filing seperately. All was well. Until I asked for his social security number so we could get started. Did you know that a man who can barely remember what his full name is can be exceptionally eloquent about his invasion of privacy? I was particularly impressed by the way he fit every vulgarity known to man into the now very loud tirade about his personal and financial information being none of my business and why should I need to know that to do his taxes, anyway?
Of course, there are ALWAYS those clients who are convinced that we have no idea what we're doing and will argue each and every entry. One client was so certain we were unable to round up four braincells collectively that he took it upon himself to call the IRS and ask them why his wife couldn't file Head of Household just because he refused to file his own taxes for several previous years. I still try to picture the expression on the face of the IRS operator who was listening to this guy confessing to year after year after year of tax fraud.
Imagine the shock on the client's face when he had an entire STACK of IRS audit letters within a week.
I must say though that my personal favorite so far would be the couple who needed 8 or 9 years of taxes completed because they were trying to get things straightened out before the IRS noticed. Kudos to them for wanting to make things right without actually having been threatened yet!
The problems arose when the wife brought in a box that was supposed to be full of tax documents and financial records. It wasn't. When we called to alert them to the error, the husband brought us the correct paperwork and reached for the box we shouldn't have been given. Our first indication something was wrong was hubby opening a love letter and going apoplectic in the middle of our office. "WHO THE *BLEEP BLEEP BLEEPITY BLEEP BLOP BLOOP BLIPPITY BLEEP* IS.....?!?!"
My kids are still trying to be supportive through it all.
Sarah volunteered to help me study for some more courses. At least until she saw the three stacks of paperwork that are a foot tall each.
"I thought you only had to study for the first level of certification."
"That is the first level of certification."
"How many levels are there?"
"Hey, I see my friend outside in her yard. I'll see you later. Good luck with your certification, Mom!"
Heather and Hunter are helpful too! They especially enjoyed helping me close up the office I was assigned to during tax season.
"No, we can't take that home."
"Put the files back in the boxes!"
"Leave the computer plugged in; it belongs here."
"Hunter, stop unpacking the supplies. No, we don't want to set up the desks again!"
"Heather, get off the phone."
"Did you just fax something to Japan?!?!"
Oh yeah. Taxes are boring all right.
Anyone spare some Prozac?