Tax Time Follies

When I declared April to be MyNoReMo (My Novel Revision Month), my wife said, "There's just one drawback--taxes."

"No problem," I said. "I'm going to H&R Block this year, so it shouldn't take long."

Ah, but I was young and innocent then, lo, those many (well, three) weeks ago. I'm older and wiser now, and here's my tale of woe.

I've always done my own taxes. Not particularly well, by my way of thinking, but I could never justify going out and hiring somebody to do it. But in the past few years, as Capital Losses (there's no such thing as gains these days) became nastier, I started thinking of calling on old H&R. Surely, I thought, they would know the secrets of getting a heftier refund.

So I went to the experts. My expert was a guy I'll call Wally, because that was not his name. I expected it to be pretty straightforward. I'd give Wally all the W-2s and 1099s and endless lists of Capital Losses and deductible expenses and  go back to MyNoReMo, while he worked his magic with numbers. In short, I expected him to do my taxes.

We jawed awhile. I told him why I'd come and what I wanted. He told me would probably run around $185. Then he opened up his 1040 program and proceeded to ask me every question on the form, filling in the blanks with his hunt-and-peck typing technique.

Wally was polite, positive, even downright cheery (if you care to imagine him looking just like Groucho Marx, go right ahead). He was a nice guy. But he was not a good speller, he sometimes transposed numbers, and when I pointed out mistakes he seemed allergic to positioning the cursor for a quick fix. He'd delete entire lines of type and start over. When the computer popped up with objections I sometimes had to explain them to him. And when I couldn't, he asked for help from a guy who looked about five minutes out of high school.

(To become seasonal tax preparers for H&R Block, I discovered, these guys had to complete a grueling 89-hour training course. As a former trainer of service reps, I have a pretty good idea how little the average person can absorb in two weeks and nine hours. No wonder I was getting nervous.)

Well. We proceeded in this leisurely fashion for three hours, during which Wally entered most of the basic stuff, along with some of the itemized deductions, but had yet to look at Capital Losses. Suddenly he started talking very fast. "WellIguesswe'vedonejustaboutallwecandofornow. Howdoyoufeelaboutwhatwe'vedonesofar? Areyousatisfiedwiththewaythingsaregoing?" I looked at my watch. Two minutes to noon. It was time for Wally's lunch.

Wally agreed to enter the Capital Losses by himself, and we arranged another appointment. Our next meeting took two and a half hours, after which he began talking at hyperspeed again. Yep, lunchtime. More questions had come up, and Wally's high school buddy was equally baffled, so we made a third appointment, at which we expected to finish things up. WasIsatisfiedwiththewaythingsweregoing? Not so much.

That final meeting was on April 13. The federal and state refund amounts were within spitting distance of last year's. I hadn't gained a thing. "Gee," Wally said. "Remember how I told you our fees are based on the number of forms we fill out? Well, I was surprised how many it took." He showed me the bill. Instead of the estimated $185, they wanted $596. "Of course," he added, "you're under no obligation. If you're not satisfied we can just delete the return." So we did.

"Well," I said, "at least I learned something."

"Yes. Absolutely." Wally was still cheefful.  "You learned a lot."

"I learned," I told him, "that I should do it myself."

So I did. Along with the six hours I wasted watching Wally shuffle papers and attempt to type, I put in another six doing the whole thing over. All right smack in the middle of MyNoReMo. Aaaaargh.

Next year, things will be different. Next year, I just might take that 89-hour training course myself and get a desk next to Wally and the high school dude. I couldn't be any worse. And at least I could count on eating regular.