Drama Gate and the Prodigal Dad

When I am at work people call me and tell me the most amazing things about themselves, their lives, their attitudes, their history, their futures.  Often times I suspect that they don't realize just how much they are revealing.  In their minds they are simply stating a few facts, answering a few of my questions, and receiving the answers they need.

My training is to answer questions about taxability, deductions and credits, and exemptions. We call it the "Drama Gate".  The reason is obvious.  Folks tend to get worked up when they discover that they have to claim all of their bingo winnings.  Or that they can't deduct the cost of paying for their daughter's lavish wedding.  Or that even though he has faithfully paid every penny of child support, and works two jobs to do so, dad can't deduct the kids on his taxes because they spend more than half the year living at mom's house.

Most of my callers are people who are feuding with their babymamas and babydaddies about who gets to claim the kids' deductions.  All that these folks seem to care about is how much money their kids can bring in, and/or how to make a preemptive strike to prevent the other parent from claiming the child.


I know, I haven't lived in their shoes.  I shouldn't judge.  And maybe the callers are light years beyond where they "ought" to be, given their own background and surroundings, but it's difficult not to compare the tears of the one father who mourned the loss of his daughter for nearly half of his life, and the parents who seem to be  interested only in one-upping the other parent in the race to get more.  Or prevent the other parent from getting more than they do.


If I was cynical I would point to these people and say "We are a greedy, vindictive and stupid nation".  Given my job and the folks I talk to, you can hardly blame me if I said that. 

But I realize that I get to talk to more of the folks who are struggling than those who have it all together.  By its very nature, my job will exclude those who can keep their lives in order.  Let's be honest, you don't call the IRS unless things are a mess. 

And if I forget that, all I need to do is remember the man I refer to as the Prodigal Dad.  He is also "The Man I Made Cry".  And then swear.  Almost in the same sentence.
He was calling to see if there was any possible credit for which he was eligible.  Because he is on disability he has no tax liability, and since there are only a limited number of refundable credits, there wasn't much to offer him.  I told him of the one for which I knew he qualified, and then jokingly asked "There's the adoption credit - did you adopt a child in 2010?"

Imagine my surprise when he started to sob and said "No, but I was adopted.  My daughter, who I gave up for adoption 28 years ago, came looking for me."  No doubt embarrassed about his emotional response he muttered my bugaboo of an obscenity.  Then he really was embarrassed and fell all over himself apologizing. 

We concluded the conversation soon after that but since then I have thought of him often.  Especially when I get another parent whose children are giant walking dollar signs and apparently nothing more. 

The Prodigal Dad.  A newly-made first-time father who is still overcome by his second chance.

May we all get that second chance.


Tax 2010/2011 for Dummies; J.K. Lasser's Your Income Tax 2011: For Preparing Your 2010 Tax Return; and for the truly dedicated or masochistic:  U.S. Master Tax Guide, Hardbound Edition (2011)

I think my job is causing PRE-traumatic stress disorder

My new boss is making me feel a little paranoid.  Since I now work for the US government and am therefore a public employee (meaning I work for you, thank you very much!) I am required to have perfect taxes.  Not that you will get to see my tax return, nope not that public of an employee!  But we all have to have flawless tax returns.  All the time.  Flawless.

And to make certain that I follow the rules, my taxes will be audited from here on out.  By other IRS employees.  Looking for mistakes.  Trying to create a workforce that is without blame when it comes to their federal tax returns.

Now I am an honest person.  I never really played the "who can screw the IRS" games.  Partly because I always figured that I would get caught.  But mostly because my parents taught me to be honest.  To do the right thing.  Not to monkey around with the truth.

So my (our) taxes have never been a source of fear for me.  I knew that they were accurate (except for the time that I decided to add up our income by hand and didn't use a calculator and forgot to carry the one, which resulted in reporting $10,000 less than we made.  OUCH that hurt when the bill came due!)  And I knew I hadn't done anything fast and loose with the law.

But now that I know that they will be reviewed with a microscope I am nervous.  I picture a room full of cranky agents, all in fedoras and smoking cigars, rifling through tax returns.  Suddenly one shouts out "Ah HAH!" as he leaps to his feet, brandishing a tax return with an error on it.  And the one that is in that agent's hand is, of course, ours.  Immediately another agent is dispatched to my cubicle, the lovely, much longed-for cubicle with the window, and I am dragged to the elevator to the 11th floor where other agents await me.  I am mercilessly grilled in a small windowless room with a bright light and finally told, with disgust, to gather my things and leave the building forever.

I know that in reality it will be nothing like that.  And I know that I have nothing to fear.  But I can't help worrying.  So I am eagerly awaiting the 2010 tax forms and publications and tables and schedules.  And our W-2s.  I need to get started on our taxes.

I figure that if I do them every week for three months I should have a consensus return to mail in by April 15.