Living in Fear

Image by Wokandapix from Pixabay
In retirement I try not to stress, but there are occasions when I have no control over the dilemma presented. Tax Returns are one of my biggest bugbears, although I am relieved to say that I have today completed and submitted that due by 31st January. I don't understand why but, after double and triple checking, I always end up pressing "Send" with a foreboding sense of fear rather than relief. I'm not sure if I'm of a nervous disposition, an eternal pessimist or simply paying for a criminal history in a previous life. Regardless of the reason, my dealings with the Tax Office, which to give it its due is always very polite and helpful, are enough to instil a medieval fear of hellfire and brimstone.

Take for instance last month. At the end of November I received a letter saying that the tax return that I had signed on behalf of the eldest (who still resides in New Zealand) and had submitted in plenty of time for the deadline of 31st October could not be accepted because it was unsigned. In its wisdom HMRC had also helpfully enclosed a copy of the offending article, demonstrating clearly that it had indeed been autographed by yours truly.

There followed a series of telephone calls to its customer helpline. I've queued for what feels like an interminable period before explaining the position to a friendly voice who proceeded to place me on hold. The voice eventually returned, confirmed that the fault was not mine and it would rectify it, promising that I would receive either written or telephoned confirmation which I never did. So, I would ring again and the response was repeated  as I became caught up in a never ending cycle of déjà vu, all the while up against a written threat of a penalty for late filing.

None of this should, of course, matter a jot when self righteous indignation is on your side, but it does, because this was the Tax Office that I was dealing with and those in authority can make me quake. It is an unfounded, irrational fear for I have never fiddled my taxes, broken the law and, for goodness sake, I don't even lie but none of that stops the butterflies every time I make one of those calls.

Fortunately  along with one of this year's delivery of Christmas cards, there was a little brown envelope finally acknowledging receipt and containing those three little words that bring joy to the heart: " No tax due."

Comments

Bob Lowry said…
The is something about the inscrutable layers of mindless bureaucracy that strike terror in the hearts of anyone who has the ability to think and reason. "Because it is policy" are the four worst words in the English language; they slam the door on any logical or rational defense. They can terminate any discussion faster than a poor phone connection.

Glad you poked the beast enough to get your written confirmation of what was correct all along. Of course, someone in another office could claim that note was sent in error...you do owe. Oh well, a topic for another post.

Happy New Year
Caree Risover said…
Oh Bob, Happy New Year to you too but that thought in your second paragraph and those 3 little words, “You do owe, “ just sent a quiver down my spine!
Treaders said…
I had a new floor put in downstairs in November and gave a cheque for the remaining balance to the man who laid it on the last day. Two weeks ago I got a letter saying I hadn't paid the balance and to please do so. So I called them up and told them I had given the cheque to Joel, their employee. She promised to call me back because the cheque was indeed still pending. She never called back of course. Then last week I got a letter from them saying if I didn't pay up within 8 days they would "set the dogs on me" (or words to that effect). At this point the local office had obviously found my cheque and cashed it, so I just scrawled across their threatening letter that I had indeed given the cheque to their employee on the last day and it was hardly my fault if they were too stupid to cash it for over a month! Now I'm usually incredibly polite but this time it just got my goat! Don't suppose I'll get an apology though!
Caree Risover said…
When there are so many more important things on your plate, a run in with incompetent bureaucracy certainly raises the hackles

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