I don't care
In case you haven’t filed yet, October 17 (two weeks from today) is the final filing deadline for your 2004 individual tax return. This is the worst deadline (far uglier than April 15) for me because there’s no more delaying, it’s gotta be done. These are always the most complex returns and they’re required by the most derelict clients. My patience for these wankers ran out about two weeks ago.
“Listen, there is no depreciation recapture on the sale of your rental property but depreciation taken in past years does reduce your basis in that property. Accordingly, you have a capital gain of $1,118,000 and there is a total balance due with your return of $257,000.”
“blah, blah, blah…”
“I don’t care that you won’t be able to visit your father’s final resting place in France next summer. I don’t care that your daughter has to continue driving the 2002 Saab convertible instead of getting a new BMW. And I don’t care that the big “art purchase” your wife has her heart set on will have to wait another year. I don’t care. I really don’t care. Is there anything, ANYTHING I can do to even begin to make you understand how much I. Do. NOT. CARE.?”
I’m not sure I can take much more of this. Deer season opens this Saturday and, like the past several Saturdays, I’ll be sitting in this office, banging away on this computer, doing tax returns and auditing pension plans for the same whiner clients that have been engaging me for the past 12 years. I wonder if they know what low esteem I hold them in? They probably don’t care either.
“Listen, there is no depreciation recapture on the sale of your rental property but depreciation taken in past years does reduce your basis in that property. Accordingly, you have a capital gain of $1,118,000 and there is a total balance due with your return of $257,000.”
“blah, blah, blah…”
“I don’t care that you won’t be able to visit your father’s final resting place in France next summer. I don’t care that your daughter has to continue driving the 2002 Saab convertible instead of getting a new BMW. And I don’t care that the big “art purchase” your wife has her heart set on will have to wait another year. I don’t care. I really don’t care. Is there anything, ANYTHING I can do to even begin to make you understand how much I. Do. NOT. CARE.?”
I’m not sure I can take much more of this. Deer season opens this Saturday and, like the past several Saturdays, I’ll be sitting in this office, banging away on this computer, doing tax returns and auditing pension plans for the same whiner clients that have been engaging me for the past 12 years. I wonder if they know what low esteem I hold them in? They probably don’t care either.
posted by willhuntforfood at 5:59 PM
3 Comments:
I think the deer might owe your clients a Christmas card this year.
tell us how you really feel....Wow, I can't believe I had to read this on your blog...now i understand you more....
Don't worry, Anon. I'm sure he wasn't talking about YOU.
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