Tax Season is Upon Us

2013 was a major growing year for me. It's been almost two years since I've written, but I found a previous post about growing up. I felt like I needed to grow up, but I didn't quite know what that meant. I think I've finally figured it out.

I'm taking control over my life now. It's stupid how simple that sounds. In the past, I thought I was living by Felix's slogan, "I do what I want. I get what I want." But, I wasn't doing it the right way. In the past year, I had three different jobs, dated and lived and broke up with a guy, and quit culinary school. 2013 sucked balls, and god damnit, 2014 will not.

This year I'm not putting up with anyone's bullshit. I'm not going to settle. And, I'm going to become that amazing, independent woman that my mother raised me to be.

Step 1:  Get out of a toxic relationship. CHECK.

I finally realized that I can not fix something that is too far gone. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make, but after I cried my eyes out at work in front of the entire kitchen staff, I felt good. Really good. And embarrassed. And I went out and got drunk with old friends that night. Fuck it. The amount of relief was refreshing, and made me feel like I was being true to myself.   

Step 2: Take over my health insurance. CHECK.

So, Momma Hen, being the supportive, awesome human being that she is, has paid for my health insurance all this time. Well, except when I had a real job with benefits at Mississippi State. Oh, God. Now I remember how pissed she was when I quit and became a nanny....and she had to support me again. Whoops. Regardless, she loves me. So basically, I've been fucked by my insurance agent in Corinth, and he changed my coverage with out me knowing. I started getting bills for $600+ every time I walked through the door at a doctor's office. And, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Mississippi finally figured out that I didn't live in Mississippi anymore. It only took them a good two and a half years to bust me. When they called, I was like, "Oh yea, I've lived in Memphis for almost three years." Then, I played the girl card, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Am I doing something wrong? I can't use Mississippi and not live in Mississippi? No one told me." Fucking idiots. So, I canceled it and got Blue Cross Blue Shield of TN.

Step 3: Take over my taxes. No where near being fucking checked.

God damn. Yesterday was a fucking nightmare.
Momma Hen has always taken all of my tax docs to someone to have them done. This year, going along with my plan, I decided to take that over and have them done in Memphis. So, I asked around and all of my CPA friends recommended H&R Block. And, this is what happened.

My first mistake was loosing my school tax shit. I was going to play dumb and act like I didn't get it. My second mistake was making an appointment at the H&R Block office on Cleveland.

Alright, so I'm all pumped up about being awesome and productive on my day off, but the so called "Senior Tax Analyst" quickly deflated my confidence. I walk in and am greeted by the lady I had confirmed my appointment with. See, very professional. I confirmed. So far so good. She ushers me over to this little cubicle with this tax lady.

"What can I help you with?" Tax lady doesn't smile.
"Well, I made an appointment to have you do my taxes." Duh

All she does is stare at me. Her 70 year old self with dead eyes. Just stares. I was so uncomfortable, I just kept talking.

"My mom has always had someone do my taxes, but I wanted to do them this year."
"Do you have your W2's?"
"Yes. I have three W2's right here along with my Edward Jones money market account 1099 form. I never got anything from school. I was a fulltime student and worked last year."

And, she stares at me again.

"So, can you do my taxes?" I mean, what the fuck else am I supposed to say? The bitch just FUCKING STARES AT ME.

She shuffles through my W2's and doesn't even really read them. She's just doing what she does best: stares blankly at them. Then, she picked up my Edward Jones packet.

"What is this?"
"That's my Edward Jones money market account. It's the 1099."
"You haven't opened it? Why haven't you opened it?"
"No....I brought it to you. I don't know what to do with it."

And she stares at me. So, I open the packet.

"This isn't what I need."
"Yes, it is. I called my Financial Planner, and this is what he said I needed to give you. It's my 1099."
"I need a summary page. I don't know what this is. I'll have to ask my supervisor."

By this point, I'm so mad and on the verge of tears. My voice is shaky and I'm about ready to slam her head into her desk. I give my best effort to explain this shit.

"No, I do not want your supervisor. This is what you need. It's my 1099. I have a money market account. It's like 20-30 mutual funds that have shown growth over the last year. Edward Jones. Investments."

Bitch doesn't say a fucking word. She turns to her computer and chicken pecks her password in. She turns to me and says, "Do you have any questions before we get started?"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? With a heightened voice, I start loosing my professional, Southern demeanor and say, "Yes! Of course I have questions! I'm completely clueless! You're supposed to help me understand what I'm doing. I know nothing about taxes. You tell me you don't know what a money market account is. I'm just going to take all of this and leave."

And guess what. She stares at me with her little blank expression. I'm furious. I'm holding back tears. As I shuffle all of my documents and grab my purse, I see her slide her business card across her desk. I turn, look at her, and say, "Oh, trust me. I will not be needing that."

I get in my car and immediately text this guy I've been seeing because for some reason, I feel like he can give me some kind of advice and support. I mean, he's a guy. He knows stuff like that, right? Then, I just break down. I call my mom. She's laughing at my story while I'm crying. I felt so defeated and misguided. I turned to wine.

So, I have not completed this step. I'll figure that out another day after I get over that traumatic experience.

Good luck out there all you tax first timers.

Merekat