One of the few perks of being an adult in the workforce is the rush of getting that tax refund back. One fat check from Uncle Sam that feels like an Easter bonus. When April rolls around the phrase “I’m gonna buy (insert luxury item) when my tax refund comes in” gets thrown around like shit at a monkey exhibit.
Once you get that first big boy/girl paycheck you instantly get to incorporate the phrase “I fucking hate taxes” into your repertoire. Hatred burns with every single paycheck like a dump after eating bad enchiladas. The one reprieve, much like Pepto Bismol is from the aforementioned Mexican food shit explosion, is that one day when you get back some of that hard earned money.
That’s what makes owing more in taxes just that much more painful.
Since the public has been clamoring for it, and I’m a man of the people, I’ll release my tax returns. Plain and simple, I’m on the hook for some more scratch to the stars and stripes.
This didn’t come as a surprise by any means; my job is mainly based upon un-taxed commission but, that doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy forking over a check to big government. I tracked my business miles and expenses, took every write off I could legally find, and of course applied single parent deduction. I’m still holding a bill due around April 15th.
Like anything else in my life, I try to look on the bright side. After all, owing taxes on my commission is a better-case-scenario than having no commission to owe taxes on. Without that tax sucking commission I’d be homeless and out on the fucking streets faster than you can say “homeless and out on the fucking streets.”
This may be a foolish and falsely cheerful way to feel, but somehow there’s some pride in forking over a bit more to the country I’m so fortunate to live in. I was born in the greatest damn country on Earth, least I can do is kick back a bit of cash to help pay for a teacher, a police officer, or a
tax break for Walmart member of the Armed Forces.
Naturally I’d prefer to be taking some cash back. Anyone who says they’d rather pay taxes than not is a liar. It’s hard enough out here grinding in the workforce without having to shell out part of my paycheck to the IRS or wherever the hell that check I’m going to hate writing is heading. But it’d also suck like ass to drive on a crumbling road with garbage piled as far as the eye could see. It’d be the equivalent of living in some third world hell like Sudan, or Mississippi.
So I’ll throw my John Hancock on that check like the dutiful citizen that I am. While I wish that things could’ve been different, via thousands of extra business miles, or having a casino that took a $1 billion dollar loss that I could write off, I’m simply faced with a bill from the tax man. So y’all enjoy your new TVs and your jet skis. Have a blast at that beach resort vacation you’re putting your refund to. Even look fondly on that little boost your savings account gets from that reimbursement from Uncle Sam.
I’ll just wistfully watch my money sail away to help build America. Then I’ll go buy something fucking stupid anyways. .
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