It’s tax time! Due to my newfound income bracket, I am positive I will be receiving a refund this year, so I’m on it. I put the tax company’s address into my GPS and headed south.
It took me one hour to drive 5.6 miles. This is partly due to my demon possessed Tom-Tom and partly due to the never-ending unorganized crazy mess that Tulsa likes to call “road work.” When I finally arrived at my destination, it was a brick sound wall for a subdivision. Great.
After driving to the next tax office, a franchise, I arrived to find locked doors. What accountant takes a break at 1 in the afternoon during tax season? I called the number posted in neon orange on their window only to get a disconnected message. Nice.
In frustration at my wasted time and gas money, I decide to head on back to work- but not before stopping at the H & R Block I spotted along the way. I don’t like H & R Block. I’m not really sure why, but I just never have. Repressed memories? I don’t know. Anyway, the poker faced receptionist gave me some paperwork without a word. No, “fill these out.” No “read these.” Nothing. Maybe she is mute. She could have held up a sign or something. Geez.
I took the papers and left. So, I still don’t have my tax stuff done. Maybe tomorrow.
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