Apparently, yesterday was penance. 129 minutes on hold with the IRS for nothing, I mean.
Today, I called, the buttons worked, and while I did not speak to a living being, I managed to get the information the Toad needs sent.
Of course, it will take 2 years (or 129 loops of the two songs on the hold loop) for it come, but it should be on the way.
The Toad owes me. Oh, yeah, he owes me BIG.
Showing posts with label irs rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label irs rant. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
129 And Holding...
That's how many minutes you will be on hold, listening to TWO classical songs, if you need to call the IRS. And then, you'll no longer be on hold when their system boots you out. You apparently max-out, and they just set you free, while you wonder if you're brain went dead or the phone did.
btw, those two classical songs? The only episode(s?) of Little Einsteins butchered the crap out of both of them by adding insipid words (note: I did NOT call them lyrics.)
So, the entire time you're on the phone to the IRS for your Toad son, you get to have bad flashbacks to Little Einsteins.
Wow. And I thought the Howler was having a bad day.
So far this year, I've had to think or deal with the IRS at least a bajillion times. And I'd like to know why the government is taking all my money and giving it to stupid people who have more money than brains, but they can't get a hold music loop of more than 2 songs.
btw, those two classical songs? The only episode(s?) of Little Einsteins butchered the crap out of both of them by adding insipid words (note: I did NOT call them lyrics.)
So, the entire time you're on the phone to the IRS for your Toad son, you get to have bad flashbacks to Little Einsteins.
Wow. And I thought the Howler was having a bad day.
So far this year, I've had to think or deal with the IRS at least a bajillion times. And I'd like to know why the government is taking all my money and giving it to stupid people who have more money than brains, but they can't get a hold music loop of more than 2 songs.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The End
So, this is the End.
The End of the IRS ranting.
The letter came, has been duly copied, filed, and fire-proof box secured.
Hallelujah! There was a light at the end of the tunnel--and it was not an on-coming train.
Everybody, sigh in relief with me.
The End of the IRS ranting.
The letter came, has been duly copied, filed, and fire-proof box secured.
Hallelujah! There was a light at the end of the tunnel--and it was not an on-coming train.
Everybody, sigh in relief with me.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Hold Your Breath
My Sweetie talked to the IRS today--yes, a real, live, breathing and thinking person.
It seems that since it wasn't actually INCOME, and we did not (please! do I look like I make a profit at anything?!) actually profit, they could "take it off."
As in, make it go away. As in, it no longer exists. (The money was imaginary, but the stress I've lived is NOT.) And now, this whole thing is banished into nothingness.
While I, personally, believe it's too early to be too jubilant about it, and I'm certainly not counting any chickens (or anything else) until the paper arrives from the IRS stating that it's been removed, I can breath a sigh of relief.
My Sweetie, God love him, has learned something from me--get a full name, and write down as much as you can. He also got the IRS person's ID number.
It's ironic, though. A letter from the IRS set this off, and now, I'm looking forward to a letter from the IRS.
Color me mumplized.
It seems that since it wasn't actually INCOME, and we did not (please! do I look like I make a profit at anything?!) actually profit, they could "take it off."
As in, make it go away. As in, it no longer exists. (The money was imaginary, but the stress I've lived is NOT.) And now, this whole thing is banished into nothingness.
While I, personally, believe it's too early to be too jubilant about it, and I'm certainly not counting any chickens (or anything else) until the paper arrives from the IRS stating that it's been removed, I can breath a sigh of relief.
My Sweetie, God love him, has learned something from me--get a full name, and write down as much as you can. He also got the IRS person's ID number.
It's ironic, though. A letter from the IRS set this off, and now, I'm looking forward to a letter from the IRS.
Color me mumplized.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Insane
and trying to get myself back in the groove. Work with me, PEOPLE!
Today, while getting supper on the table, I actually had to ask my Sweetie if he knew whether or not I ate lunch today. (He did know, and he could tell me what I ate.)
How bad is that?
I'm losing my mind. Truly. This thing with the IRS may be my last coherent thing.
Today, while getting supper on the table, I actually had to ask my Sweetie if he knew whether or not I ate lunch today. (He did know, and he could tell me what I ate.)
How bad is that?
I'm losing my mind. Truly. This thing with the IRS may be my last coherent thing.
Those Meddling Kids
Part of the whole IRS fiasco, for us, is that my Sweetie did honestly believe (and I did too--silly us) that the worst thing was going to be his credit in the crapper For Ever And A Day. Today, after church, he mentioned "I'd have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for those meddling IRS kids!"
We are finding the humor in it. Today, my Sweetie also asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day and all I could do was laugh. But even so, it's difficult to not have this suck up the whole of our world.
The clock is down 7 days and that means we have 23 days left.
Still getting no where with "professional help." The Booby Hatch may be the only professional help I reaquire soon.
I just hope that, in the end, we can get it settled and that his exwife gets hauled away (or worse.) I'm not holding my breath though.
We can prove that she is responsible for 1/2 the debt. We can prove that she lied to everyone (except Domestic Relations when she wanted child support from her love-child's daddy). But is that enough? Ugh.
The letters I and R and S seem to wig out EVERYONE. Even people who haven't done anything wrong. Geez. How do you justify being this stupid? How do you deal with how embarrassing it is?
Do you know how hard it is to not just curl up in a dark room and concentrate on breathing?
We are finding the humor in it. Today, my Sweetie also asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day and all I could do was laugh. But even so, it's difficult to not have this suck up the whole of our world.
The clock is down 7 days and that means we have 23 days left.
Still getting no where with "professional help." The Booby Hatch may be the only professional help I reaquire soon.
I just hope that, in the end, we can get it settled and that his exwife gets hauled away (or worse.) I'm not holding my breath though.
We can prove that she is responsible for 1/2 the debt. We can prove that she lied to everyone (except Domestic Relations when she wanted child support from her love-child's daddy). But is that enough? Ugh.
The letters I and R and S seem to wig out EVERYONE. Even people who haven't done anything wrong. Geez. How do you justify being this stupid? How do you deal with how embarrassing it is?
Do you know how hard it is to not just curl up in a dark room and concentrate on breathing?
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Leprosy
Great. Just great.
I finally found an accountant who will look at what we have, listen to what we're saying, AND give conditional advice.
He says, "You need a lawyer who can help you get the information you have about the debt (and the other party who owes it with you) to the IRS." (We already have what we believe will suffice as legal proof.) And he gives us the name of who he would use.
So, I call them. I wanted to cry. (I didn't even want to cry on Monday, when the letter actually came.)
I understand that the legal secretary is the Gatekeeper. I understand she has a responsibility. I realize that any lawyer is going to be busy. But, to be told then, that "we don't handle that kind of thing. You need to talk to the person who did your taxes that year."
And when I explain (I've already told her who suggested I call them) that I've talked to "my people"(HAH! Do not let their ads fool you--they will deal ONLY with the quickest and easiest way to get it away from them) about it; AND I talked to a specific lawyer who suggested a CPA; AND the CPA I did call before talking to the accountant who recommend their office STILL hasn't returned my call....
Basically, the CPAs/accountants say it's a legal matter and the lawyers say it's a tax matter for the CPAs.
Somebody strap on a set and HELP me. I'll do it my own dammed self, but I have to know where to begin! For fuck's sake, I'll PAY YOU any amount of fucking money. Just HELP me. I know I'm in over my head. I know that I'm paying something, and I'll pay it--I just refuse to pay that nasty exwife bitch's half. It's THAT simple.
Hell, it's not even my fucking debt, and I'm willing to pay it.
I'm to the point where I'm trying to figure out if I qualify as a stupid person for marrying My Sweetie and this unholy problem.
Luckily, my mother was with me, and after I was almost in tears over the most recent lawyer refusal, she suggested I call the accountant back.
He called and left a message for the lawyer (they've worked together before) so he can try to explain that it's more of a legal matter involving taxes than a tax matter.
I'm afraid that part of why they don't want to deal with me is the last name. I swear to God, if it turns out that this is part of it, I'm staying married, but taking back my maiden name straight up.
I finally found an accountant who will look at what we have, listen to what we're saying, AND give conditional advice.
He says, "You need a lawyer who can help you get the information you have about the debt (and the other party who owes it with you) to the IRS." (We already have what we believe will suffice as legal proof.) And he gives us the name of who he would use.
So, I call them. I wanted to cry. (I didn't even want to cry on Monday, when the letter actually came.)
I understand that the legal secretary is the Gatekeeper. I understand she has a responsibility. I realize that any lawyer is going to be busy. But, to be told then, that "we don't handle that kind of thing. You need to talk to the person who did your taxes that year."
And when I explain (I've already told her who suggested I call them) that I've talked to "my people"(HAH! Do not let their ads fool you--they will deal ONLY with the quickest and easiest way to get it away from them) about it; AND I talked to a specific lawyer who suggested a CPA; AND the CPA I did call before talking to the accountant who recommend their office STILL hasn't returned my call....
Basically, the CPAs/accountants say it's a legal matter and the lawyers say it's a tax matter for the CPAs.
Somebody strap on a set and HELP me. I'll do it my own dammed self, but I have to know where to begin! For fuck's sake, I'll PAY YOU any amount of fucking money. Just HELP me. I know I'm in over my head. I know that I'm paying something, and I'll pay it--I just refuse to pay that nasty exwife bitch's half. It's THAT simple.
Hell, it's not even my fucking debt, and I'm willing to pay it.
I'm to the point where I'm trying to figure out if I qualify as a stupid person for marrying My Sweetie and this unholy problem.
Luckily, my mother was with me, and after I was almost in tears over the most recent lawyer refusal, she suggested I call the accountant back.
He called and left a message for the lawyer (they've worked together before) so he can try to explain that it's more of a legal matter involving taxes than a tax matter.
I'm afraid that part of why they don't want to deal with me is the last name. I swear to God, if it turns out that this is part of it, I'm staying married, but taking back my maiden name straight up.
Flip It
At the close of Day #3 in the IRS drama, we've discovered the humor in it.
We're sick, I know.
Actually, when you think about it, discovering that the IRS wants $14,000 is quite liberating. "How so?" Oh, ye of little faith! Listen up!
It puts everything, and I do mean EVERY. THING. into perspective.
Howler throwing a tantrum? No problem. It costs nothing except a few nerves. (and maybe an eardrum)
Toad being a jerk? No problem. It's just a few extra blood pressure points.
Work problems? No problem. I need the job to pay the IRS, so it's a whole new ballgame how much ankle grabbing I'm willing to agree to.
See? It's a win-win-win.
Oh, and most importantly, we don't have a Citibank Visa, so the enjoyment of the cardboard box we'll all soon be living in will be totally interest free, too.
Howler tantrum: FREE
Toad Jerkdom: FREE
Work: FREE for all (plus appliance boxes)
IRS letter: $14,008 + continuing penalties and interest
We're sick, I know.
Actually, when you think about it, discovering that the IRS wants $14,000 is quite liberating. "How so?" Oh, ye of little faith! Listen up!
It puts everything, and I do mean EVERY. THING. into perspective.
Howler throwing a tantrum? No problem. It costs nothing except a few nerves. (and maybe an eardrum)
Toad being a jerk? No problem. It's just a few extra blood pressure points.
Work problems? No problem. I need the job to pay the IRS, so it's a whole new ballgame how much ankle grabbing I'm willing to agree to.
See? It's a win-win-win.
Oh, and most importantly, we don't have a Citibank Visa, so the enjoyment of the cardboard box we'll all soon be living in will be totally interest free, too.
Howler tantrum: FREE
Toad Jerkdom: FREE
Work: FREE for all (plus appliance boxes)
IRS letter: $14,008 + continuing penalties and interest
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Nightmares
No matter who you are, at some point in your life, you feel powerless. Powerless. Children, I imagine, feel this way quite often--the Howler, feels it to the extreme every blessed minute of every day.
I've seen movies that made me very uncomfortable because of the overwhelming powerlessness of the characters in the face of the enemy. Terminator 2 comes to mind--how do you stop a monster that simply will not stop?
In real life, there is very little that frightens me--but I have seen the Enemy, and it's name is IRS.
Understanding the motivations, even having a smidgen of comprehension that it's all legal, does not help the feeling of overwhelming powerlessness.
When the IRS knocks, EVERYONE is afraid. Attorneys and CPAs listen politely until you get to the part where you want their advice (paid? HAH! Keep your money--you're gonna need it! The IRS is gonna take it!)
It's frustrating. There's no place to begin. There's no explainations--and no one wants to offer any. The IRS "Help Line" is a series of "press one now," but even taking consolation in the fact that it's in English, there's no real help there.
The best part? Knowing that if you're lucky, you're gonna get out with your skin (and maybe your firstborn--although, all things considered this past year, I might be willing to trade them...) but no one cares.
Mention the IRS and NO ONE wants to know. Don't ask, don't tell, don't listen! It's like being an entire leper colony.
So, on Day #3 of this particular ordeal, we're still breathing, reeling, and most likely, deluding ourselves into thinking that this will EVER be over.
I've seen movies that made me very uncomfortable because of the overwhelming powerlessness of the characters in the face of the enemy. Terminator 2 comes to mind--how do you stop a monster that simply will not stop?
In real life, there is very little that frightens me--but I have seen the Enemy, and it's name is IRS.
Understanding the motivations, even having a smidgen of comprehension that it's all legal, does not help the feeling of overwhelming powerlessness.
When the IRS knocks, EVERYONE is afraid. Attorneys and CPAs listen politely until you get to the part where you want their advice (paid? HAH! Keep your money--you're gonna need it! The IRS is gonna take it!)
It's frustrating. There's no place to begin. There's no explainations--and no one wants to offer any. The IRS "Help Line" is a series of "press one now," but even taking consolation in the fact that it's in English, there's no real help there.
The best part? Knowing that if you're lucky, you're gonna get out with your skin (and maybe your firstborn--although, all things considered this past year, I might be willing to trade them...) but no one cares.
Mention the IRS and NO ONE wants to know. Don't ask, don't tell, don't listen! It's like being an entire leper colony.
So, on Day #3 of this particular ordeal, we're still breathing, reeling, and most likely, deluding ourselves into thinking that this will EVER be over.
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