Indecipherable Tax Time


Just so we’re clear up front, this is pretty much exactly what I see when I pull up tax forms. Now maybe it’s because I’m a senior; maybe it’s because I have an outside fledgling business and can’t get by with a simple EZ form; maybe it’s because I’m not a math genius and hate it to boot; maybe it’s all of those. Whatever the reason, I go into “dread” mode along about January 1st every year and am followed around all day, every day by a gigantic black cloud until I get the damn things filed.

It doesn’t matter how simple the program tells me it’s going to be or that I’ll be done in a split second, I’m still sitting there hours later trying to figure out either what’s it’s asking me to input or (having actually made it through the “rough draft) I find myself wrestling with whatever “simple” corrections it says I need to complete before I can file.

And then, of course, regardless of whether it’s perfect or less than perfect, I spend the next year wondering if someone is going to compare this year’s taxes with last year’s taxes, come to the conclusion that I’m doing my best to be able to retire on my refund (uh, good luck with that!) and either throw me in jail or charge me more than I would’ve gotten in the first place to make up for my filing transgressions. The biggest worry? What if I have to sit down with an IRS agent and go through the rationale of how I arrived at the total I put in blank number X, or why I decided something was a depreciation claim, or could I prove what I had for dinner at a restaurant I claimed as an expense that would justify the cost; etc. etc. etc.

Isolated wooden chair in a dark scary prison with an interrogation spotlight

My little outside business was audited by the state last year and that was exactly the scenario I faced. The man tried very hard to be patient but the problem is that they speak an entirely different language than I do and some of their questions sound like someone talking to me from under water. I sit there, desperately trying to get my mind to put the words into a recognizable sentence but somehow all I hear is, “Sklkjae ha; eiyr -98nodh?” Uh … yes?

So every year, I do my best to get through an online filing in less than three hours and without a headache at the end. Nevertheless, I find myself starting to “slur” through the pages, getting less and less focused on what the hell they’re asking and making my best guess as to what that might be. That’s probably the part that worries me the most. Maybe when that agent shows up at my door asking questions when I’m relatively fresh and haven’t been staring at indecipherable forms for several hours, some of the stuff I input will look stupid to me and I, like he, will wonder what I was thinking. Do they get that? Do they realize that if things weren’t so obtuse, I might get the right answers the first time around? Or do they assume I’m trying to get by with something?

I’m sure everything seems logical and straightforward to them. To me, it looks something like this: Please tell us about your office expenses. If you input less than $200 on line B, you’ll need to fill our Form 20-A and then return to Form 62-B before you can proceed. If, however, your total is more than $250, you will be excluded from filling out Form C and will need to list each item separately on Page 47. How many times do you reckon I’d have to read that before any of it was coherent?

Since that sort of gobbledy-gook normally happens within the first 5 minutes, by the time I’ve gone through 20 or 30 screens — well, you can see why I’m exhausted after 3 hours and why I dread tax season every year.