Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Marriage 301, Lecture 563: Death and taxes


SH: Thank you for not nagging me about getting the taxes done.

[Because chez nous, even though I am the one who

1. Worked at the IRS
2. Has an MBA with a 4.0 GPA and the highest score in my class on my finance final
3. Has filed my own taxes every year of my W-2/4* life, early, and with the smallest refund possible,

SH is not confident of my abilities to do taxes and wants to, in his engineer fashion, go over everything I have done in TurboTax to make sure I have done it right. Even though if you make a mistake, you can always file a 1040X, which takes about ten seconds. This wanting to review my work is not such a big deal except that SH runs on football time, in which "a minute" means "half an hour" and "soon" means "one minute before the filing deadline after I spend all night and I do mean all night working on it." I like to file my taxes and get my refund as soon as I have all the paperwork. Why make an interest-free loan to the government, I say.]

Me: You're welcome.

SH: Why aren't you nagging me?

Me: Because it doesn't do a darn bit of good.

SH: It doesn't make you feel better?

Me: All I want is for you to do what I want you to do [that is, file the taxes as soon as we have all the documents] and nagging doesn't accomplish that.

SH: You don't like to nag just to nag?

Me: Nope. All it does is tick me off that you're not minding me.


* I know a guy - super nice, hardworking guy - who did not know what a W4 was until after he completed college. He got a summer job between college and grad school and didn't know what he was supposed to do with that form. He had never had a job before in his life. Bless his heart.

** I have another rich kid friend - again, super nice, hardworking guy - we are still friends - who one day at work showed me his very nice expensive shoes that he was going to have to throw away because they had a hole in the sole. "The cobbler can't fix it?" I asked.

"What is this 'cobbler' of which you speak?" he asked.

He did not know that shoes could be repaired. He was thrilled - he took the shoes to the little Haitian shoe guy on Calle 8 whom I recommended. The shoes were re-soled and, even better, polished. POLISHED. Which he had never done to his shoes before. "They look like new!" he said. He was so happy. I said, "You rich kids. Think you just throw shoes away and buy new ones."

*** I had another friend who was upset that she was going to have to buy new boots this winter because the new boots she had bought the year before had a scuff in them. "You couldn't polish it out?" I asked.

Again. "What is this 'polish' of which you speak?"

Nope. She didn't know you could polish shoes. She was not a rich kid. She was a military brat like me, which is why I was so surprised at her ignorance. When I was a kid, one of my chores was polishing my dad's shoes. I still do a mean shoe shine.

1 comment:

TosaGuy said...

With the new Army Combat Uniform, today's Soldiers do not know what it's like to shine boots. That 30 minutes a day of basic training were the only time the drill sergeant didn't mess with us; we soon grew to love that part of the day.