Was it not Benjamin Franklin who wrote about the inevitability of death and taxes? I think so, but what he neglected to mention was that taxes are the usually the more painful of the two. This year was more exciting, because in addition to our own revised taxes, our daughter moved, changed jobs, and has gone back to school. Federal taxes along with a nice assortment of taxes in two locales. That’s the trifecta of joy and anxiety.
I might start by mentioning the advertising we’ve all seen repeatedly in the last couple of months for “free tax preparation”. You know those wonderful commercials that keep going on and on, “free . . .free . . .free . . .free”? User beware – at every turn, there’s an essential “upgrade” with associated fee. None of these are really free unless you live in your car and have no income. Then, yes, they only charge you a modest curb-side parking fee. After completing the federal taxes, they now direct me to state taxes, with of course an additional fee. I live in New Hampshire, which has no state income tax, and therefore not even a place to file. But no, it goes on with the constant reminders to please file my state taxes, in ever increasingly bold fonts. We live free and die here in New Hampshire, except when there’s an upcoming presidential election. Then we live comfortably on the income generated by the candidates passing through with their entourages and hangers-on. New Hampshire’s state income tax form is a blank sheet. On the state website, it says “Don’t Bother – we’ll add on a few bucks to the room and meal tax. Have you tried the continental breakfast at the Comfort Inn on 93?” Those are our sources of income – tourism and presidential primaries. But getting back on track, you’d think that somewhere in that battalion of tax specialists and software writers working for all those tax services, they could insert a happy face pop-up reading “Ah, New Hampshire. Never Mind.”
So, on to my taxes this year. I’ve spent the year keeping meticulous expense receipts just in case the new tax reforms aren’t what they’re all cracked up to be. I know they’ll work for corporations and billionaires, but will they really do much for a middle class retired teacher? So, I gathered up all the requisite numbers for taxes, interest, fees from last year’s tax preparation. I was ready to go. I entered all these truly impressive numbers, only to find that the standard deduction was more and it was all for naught. None of it was needed. I still owed a bit – not overwhelming – but still not the cash bonus that I’d anticipated and that I could invest wisely in lottery tickets. OK – I’ve corrected the withholding for next year, taken a deep breath, and I’m moving on with my usual calm dignity. Until . . . . .
Elizabeth’s tax forms start coming in. A couple for some film festivals that she’d worked on. On top of the normal “individual” taxes that normal people pay, those qualify as “self-employed”, which now makes her a business entity. An unofficial, “Elizabeth, Inc.” More business taxes owed and my head is swirling. Even better, I now have to upgrade to Deluxe Plus, which includes the self-employment package. It helped me figure out all the extra business bits. I read in the news that Amazon didn’t pay any taxes last year on $11 billion, so I’ve written them a friendly note asking what software they’re using. There must be something on the market that we don’t know about, the reduces business income to zero. Anyhow, we’re ready for the FREE file. It bounced back from the IRS. Wait . . .what? Can they do that? Probably, because they did, but it’s just rude. Not like applying for a credit card. I know the figures were right – they’re right here in front of me and. . . . oh, no. I put in the wrong trigger amount. I just hate it when I can’t fume at someone else’s inefficiency or technology’s stunning inadequacies because it was my mistake. To quote Dr. Fraser Crane, “Somehow, when I’m wrong, the world just makes a little less sense.” OK, let’s try it again. Good here it goes. Success! It’s been accepted. Thank you, Oh Goddess of Taxes and Parking Tickets.
Now to the DC taxes, because she lived there for the first part of the year. Woo Hoo – it’s on line. That could be a good sign. At least we won’t have to mail. Put in the figures and voila! Submitted and ready to print a copy. Uh, oh. Not printing. What’s up with that? There’s even a “print the return” option. I’ve clicked on it twelve times and nothing. The printer is snoozing quietly. Not even an “ink getting low – prepare to jump ship”. I try the “print” on the computer setting. Great – it’s off center, so the figures have all run off the right side of the page. That’s helpful. Guess we’ll have to live with the disappointment and my own handwritten copy.
She’s earned an income as a graduate assistant. Just enough to qualify for MA income tax. She’s legally a resident of New Hampshire, so in the eyes of the Massachusetts Department of Revenue, has not fully embraced the 21stcentury, she’s a non-resident. For some reason, servitude was outlawed in late 1700’s, they failed to include the non-resident taxpayer. A Massachusetts resident can file from a cell phone with the push of a button. However, if you don’t reside there, you are dirt beneath their feet. The only option you have is to print out the forms, fill in the blanks, and mail it in. This is, and I kid you not, a five-page document that I am reasonably sure was developed either by an inmate at the state psychiatric hospital, or possibly by someone at the Vatican bank. It’s an absolute miracle of crisscross, backtrack, and confusion, loaded with “divide line 14b by the rate on 8c”. You have to calculate MA income, divide it by non-MA income, then multiply by the amount of time it took John Hancock to sign the Declaration of Independence, then add in the number of Redcoat assaults on Bunker Hill, apportion the time you’ve actually spent in Massachusetts, but you can subtract the drive time on the highway heading north out of state. There was even a reference to “non-residents multiply by line . . . .” curiously, that line didn’t exist on the form. Some Byzantine must have slipped into the Vatican and made contributions to that section. The truly nice thing about the returns is that, when you receive the refund check, it will itemize the mistakes you made. Not really an explanation, just “line 27b”. I filed non-resident MA income taxes every year for 22 years, did everything according to the directions, and in all but about three years there was something in the “error” code listed. They still gave me back the money I requested, but there always seemed to be some area where I could tighten it up a bit. It was as if the Department of Revenue is that math teacher that doesn’t like your method of calculation, even though you came up with the right answer.
Ah, taxes are a joy. Every tax accountant I know drinks alternately gallons of coffee and alcohol from mid-March until late April. Their eyes are bloodshot, there are bandages on their fingers from inputting numbers, and they speak of experiencing a dull throbbing from the neck up. It seems to go away by late April. I’ve read that in Japan, the government sends you something the size of an index card telling you what your taxes were for the year. You don’t have to file anything – it’s already been deducted. I know, right? Wouldn’t that be the stuff of dreams? The tax software company I’ve used for a number of years sends regular notifications throughout the year telling me about all the great ongoing preparation strategies they can be doing (if I upgrade – they’re not non-profits, you know. I am getting the pre-season discount, though), all the things I should be doing (and for which I should be charging myself), and how they can manage my investments (for a whopping fee), two reminders that I still haven’t finished filing my NH income taxes, and I really should be getting a jump start on next year. Next year? I’ve blocked it out. I don’t want a jump start. All I want is a hop backin late January, when the “important tax documents enclosed” start arriving. Then I’ll grit my teeth and start figuring it out, adding up deductions that no longer exist, worrying about withholdings to the point I should be paying the pension system money each month, and wondering where it all went wrong. I’m thinking, oh wait . . . . . . .have to go – Donald Trump’s tax guy is getting back to me.
I'm Thinking...No! 