Wednesday, February 3, 2010


Guess what I got to do today?

Give up? C’mon, try please! I got to call a certain federal government unit concerned with taxes!

Yeah, I would much rather done something more interesting such as watching slugs race across hot concrete.

The call concerned the EIN (that’s employee identification number) for the Journal. No, I don’t have employees yet, but still had to have the number because…

Anyway, the bank where I have my account informed me there appeared to be a duplicate EIN associated with a different business.

Argh, eh? So I took a few minutes to collect myself and called the government organization which shall not be named because I do not want my attractive rear audited.

After 3:51, I had answered all the proper buttons on the phone in response to the computer-generated fake voice. Then, I was told it would be approximately seven to 10 minutes of time before my call could be answered.

As if.

After waiting for 4:11, I noticed my nails needed trimming.

At the 5:28 mark, I started to fall asleep to the elevator music, but kept getting stirred awake by the “don’t hang up, you idiot! Somebody will be with you after they drink their coffee and talk about American Idol!”

When the 10:50 mark showed, I noticed that it had been more than seven minutes.

After 13:54 passed, I realized it had actually been more than the 10 minutes they promised.

At the 15:53 mark, I decided I could watch 24, which I had recorded on Monday, in about the time it took me to wait to speak to an actual person, as long as I skipped the commercials and previews.

Finally at 18:26, I heard a click and my call was transferred to an actual person. His name was Mark something and he gave me a series of numbers which I could have jotted down if he wasn’t speed talking.

I told him my EIN, name, address, city and state, in what I thought was a speed where anybody with any typing experience could follow. “Slow down!” he grumpily said. “You are going WAY too fast!”

I considered telling him that was not a customer-service friendly way of answering and I did not want to be a customer anymore, but passed because of the audit thing I mentioned earlier.

So I spoke even slower. Buck the Bull Mastiff could have gone outside, marked every tree in the backyard in the time it took me this time and scratched to be let back in during the time I provided the information AGAIN. Mark didn’t respond for a while, I could just see him pecking away with one finger while watching a repeat of 24.

Finally I told him my problem. He sighed heavily. Honest. He asked me where I got the information I was reporting. From the form the IRS sent me. Duh.

Mark explained some things about I.D. numbers that I learned when I was 14 or so. I asked if I had anything to worry about. “Show the bank your form!” he said.

Gee, I wished I had thought of that when I opened the account and gave Susan the form for her records. Double duh. I thanked him, informed him that I wished him a good day and said, “Goodbye!”

He hung up without saying anything else. I guess his coffee was getting cold or he had somebody else to be rude with.

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