The Continuing Adventures of Anxiety Girl

Anxiety Girl and the Case of the 2010 Taxes

Anxiety Girl received a letter claiming her 2010 taxes had never been properly filed. Anxiety Girl was confused. She first discovered this problem a week before buying her first home, a full year and a half after she filed. She remembers making multiple copies of the documents and personally walking them into the federal building. It was only because her loan officer was also Superman that the house purchase was allowed to continue on schedule.

Not only would a letter of this sort have been helpful a year earlier so she could have settled this BEFORE all the housing mess, but how was it possible that Anxiety Girl had hand delivered the tax return and three and a half months later it was still unfiled?

Anxiety Girl shaved off some frozen cookie dough to strengthen her for the upcoming battle. She swallowed her fear of using the phone and took her place in line.

Anxiety Girl did such a great job puttering around while on hold that she forgot that she was on the phone, let alone whom she’d called and why. Fortunately she still had plenty of time to come to her sense and worry some more before the next available representative came to her rescue.

This lady was not nearly as friendly or helpful as the others with whom she’s dealt, but a cool, clinical attitude is better than antagonism, even if it did nothing to assuage the fears of Anxiety Girl. After briefly describing her confusion that she had personally walked the taxes into the Federal Building but had now received her letter the woman asked, in effect, why she was calling? If Anxiety Girl had the letter then they obviously didn’t have her taxes. Anxiety Girl kept her cool and explained that she wanted to try to identify what had gone wrong so she could get this resolved. After a couple of poor attempts to communicate Anxiety Girl was able to confirm that the woman on the other end of the line was indeed able to see her 2010 tax return, the one she had hand delivered to the IRS in September.

“So we’re good?” Anxiety Girl asked, confused as to why she received the letter.
“I have your tax return” was the sterile reply. It was not an answer to the question.

It was silent for a minute so Anxiety Girl repeated again “so we’re good?”
To which the representative repeated “I have your tax return.”

Anxiety Girl asked why she would have received the letter if the return was in the system and received no answer. She posited that perhaps the letter was automatically sent before the return was fully processed but the representative remained quiet.

One last time Anxiety Girl asked, “so we’re good?” and one last time she received “I have your tax return” in nonresponse. In an effort to maintain cheerfulness and kindness despite her terror Anxiety Girl thanked the woman and wished her a Happy New Year.

Anxiety Girl heads back to the freezer for more cookie dough, unconvinced she’s heard the end of the 2010 tax returns.

2 thoughts on “The Continuing Adventures of Anxiety Girl

  1. Wow, that totally sounds resolved. yeeeeeah…

    We’re doing this same runaround with Nathan’s school right now! They say we owe $1500 for an English class that he wasn’t “allowed” to take last semester–even though on Nathan’s thing it says in bold that it’s required and his adviser told him to take it. “Oh that’s not our fault, that’s the aviation division’s. Talk to them.” Literally 20 calls and a handful of emails and faxes later and they come to the conclusion that he’ll need to drop the class for us to not get that huge charge (the class that he finished and is already graded for–and worked his butt off to get a good grade in!). He asks if he drops the class, will that affect his grants? The finance specialist says absolutely not. So he drops the class. Then we get a bill for $2200. Now we owe for the class, and we owe an additional $700 for dropping the class because that affected the other funding that was previously granted. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! Another 20 phone calls and counting….

  2. Oh the joys of communication with those who are apparently unable to, yet still get paid to do it. UGH! I’m so so sorry!

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