The Marbles in my Head Go 'Round and 'Round...

And poor old Wiggy's gone right off his trolley.

Taxes. Ah, taxes. No, not Texas, which is nearly as frightening to me. In fact, if Texas did not contain Kinky Friedman, I'd hardly even be able to say the name of that fine state, I'd be so terrified. But I digress. Taxes.

Did the tax thing this year our own selves. We used to use H&R Crock, but since those weasels hosed us up so badly last year, that's the end of that nonsense. I found TurboTax online (which is a Good Thing, since ol' Wiggy runs Linux and not Macintosh or Windows). Works like a champ, I must say. Did the e-file shuffle, for both state and federal taxes, and it even said when (approximately) we could expect our refund to come wafting into our sad and lonely checking account. We eagerly anticipate said refund, for the purchase of beer and other Important Things. We may even pay a few bills with it, crazy stuff like that. Since we've been experiencing $600+ utility bills the last few months, it surely would come in handy.

Well. We "got 'er done," as they say, and sat back to await the Magic Day when the Eagle Flies and squeezes out a nice lumpy tax refund check for us.

But your hero Wiggy is an impatient sort. So I went GIYF (Google Is Your Friend) and typed in 'where's my refund IRS' and Saigon!, there it was:

Where's My Refund?

Wow. That was easy.

So ok, you click on the link, you enter your Mark of the Beast Number, oops, I mean your Social Security Number, your filing status (single, married, bankrupt, bilingual, bilateral, bigamist, none of the above, etc) and the amount you expect to get back. So I did it.

The screen I got filled me with dread. It said "Your tax form has been received and is being processed." Oh. Well, that's kind of a let-down, eh? Reading further on the form, it says to check back - maybe in a week or so.

Which means, of course, that I checked back twice a day, every day. I'm a bad taxpayer.

Today, I got a different answer. Maybe they got tired of me asking alla time.

The message said: "There is a delay in processing your tax return. For more information, please continue." Oh, that's not good. That isn't good, is it? That can't be good.

Worse, there is no 'Continue' button. There is a 'Print Now', 'How Did We Do?', and 'Log Out' button, but no 'Continue' button!

Reading on, the cryptic message read "Please mention reference number 1234 to the IRS Customer Service Representative" and gave a phone number. I guess that's what they mean by 'Continue', eh? Government-speak or something.

I called. When I got the voice mail menu, I pressed '1' for English (sometimes it makes more sense in Spanish - which I don't speak) and then '1234' for the special sekrit code I had been given. Oops, I guess ya'll know my sekrit code now. Don't tell anyone, ok?

After a short time on hold - we're talking mere minutes, not ice ages this time - I got Mrs. Hughes on the phone. She gave me her Operator Number as well, but frankly, there were a couple dozen numbers, letters, and Cyrillic characters in there, so I didn't catch it at all.

The conversation then became much more philosophical than I ever expected any conversation with a government official to be. It went something like this:

Mrs. Hughes: How can I help you?
Wiggy: I went to the "Where the Hell's My Money?" website and it said to call you.
Mrs. Hughes: And you did it?
Wiggy: Ah, excuse me?
Mrs. Hughes: You went to the IRS Tax Refund Status website and it told you to call us and you did it?
Wiggy: Yes. Is that wrong? I'm confused.
Mrs. Hughes: What is your name, sir?

[Note: At this point, I began to feel that I might be in trouble. Maybe they knew that I had been checking that website more often than once ever three weeks? We established my bona fides, and the conversation continued.]

Mrs. Hughes: There was no need to call us, sir, the website tells everyone to call us.
Wiggy: It does? It said that there was a "delay in processing my tax return," and to call you. It gave me your number, honest!
Mrs. Hughes: Yes sir. It tells everyone that. There is always a delay in processing your taxes. This is the IRS, sir.
Wiggy: Umph. [Note: I was biting the hell out of my evil tongue at this point.]
Mrs. Hughes: However, sir, I'll check your refund for you, since you seem unconvinced.
Wiggy: Thampthf You. [Note: Bit that tongue a trifle too hard. Ouchy.]

[Note: Then I got to listen to some rocking Burt Bacherach tunes while Mrs. Hughes slaved over a hot computer terminal - which I could hear. It was strange, listening to Mrs. Hughes humming along to "The Look of Love."]

Mrs. Hughes: Sir?
Wiggy: Yes, ma'am?
Mrs. Hughes: There is a delay in processing your taxes.
Wiggy: Ah.
Mrs. Hughes: It seems that the website was right.
Wiggy: I see. So. Any idea what the problem might be?
Mrs. Hughes: There is a delay. In processing your taxes. A delay. That means, uh, it takes more time. That's what 'delay' means.
Wiggy: Oh, good, I thought you said "DeLay" and we were talking about Texas. I fear Texas.
Mrs. Hughes: What?
Wiggy: Ah, never mind, Mrs. Hughes. I had Burt Bacharach on the brain there for a second. My bad.
Mrs. Hughes: There is something wrong with our website. It is telling everyone to call us.
Wiggy: That's bad?
Mrs. Hughes: They call us. About their taxes.
Wiggy: I can see where that would be a problem, with the phone ringing all day.
Mrs. Hughes: Yes. It is. A problem. They call us.
Wiggy: Um.
Mrs. Hughes: Your return is 'out for review'.
Wiggy: Oh, really? That sounds serious.
Mrs. Hughes: Yes. All returns must go out for review. That's normal.
Wiggy: Well, that's good. I mean, it sounds normal. Not like there is a problem.
Mrs. Hughes: Well, there is a problem with yours.
Wiggy: Yoikes!
Mrs. Hughes: You know you have an existing tax liability, right?
Wiggy: Yes, I do. We have a payment arrangement with the IRS regarding a previous issue. We pay so much per month on that.
Mrs. Hughes: Well, you were getting a refund, so we are taking that for your tax liability.
Wiggy: I see.
Mrs. Hughes: That's the delay.
Wiggy: Um.
Mrs. Hughes: In processing your return.
Wiggy: Well, Mrs. Hughes, I expected that. But there is a bigger return than there is a tax liability, so I presume we will get that much refunded, yes?
Mrs. Hughes: Oh, yes. You will get it. Your refund.
Wiggy: Well, my main concern is that this delay might end up taking a lot of time. I could sure use that money now. Or when the IRS originally said I could expect it in my checking account. Something near that, anyway. Not months later, or whatever.
Mrs. Hughes: Oh, there will be no delay. Zero delay. We'll just reduce your refund by the amount of your tax liability and deposit the rest electronically in your checking account.
Wiggy: Oh, that's great! No delay?
Mrs. Hughes: There is a delay. I informed you, sir. There is a delay. In processing your tax return.
Wiggy: But the refund?
Mrs. Hughes: No delay.
Wiggy: But, if the tax return is delayed...
Mrs. Hughes: It is delayed. As I said. Delayed.
Wiggy: Then, the refund will be delayed too, won't it?
Mrs. Hughes: No delay.
Wiggy: ?
Mrs. Hughes: As soon as the delay in processing your tax return is cleared up.
Wiggy: Ah. So, if it takes, say, six months to process my tax return?
Mrs. Hughes: Then as soon as it is processed, there will be no delay in depositing your refund.
Wiggy: Got it.
Mrs. Wiggy: I'm glad to hear that, sir. There is a delay.
Wiggy: Right. I'm hip.
Mrs. Hughes: Did you have any other questions, sir?
Wiggy: No, I think I'm full. Thank you for your time.
Mrs. Hughes: I don't know why everyone keeps calling. The website keeps telling them to call. And then they call. I don't understand.
Wiggy: Well, I'm sure sorry to hear that, Mrs. Hughes. I won't call again.
Mrs. Hughes: You can call if the website says to call, sir.
Wiggy: OK.
Mrs. Hughes: Just wait at least three weeks.
Wiggy: Right. Bye now!

At this point, I hung up. My poor little punkin haid is fried. I find myself talking. In short sentences. Just like. Mrs. Hughes.

[Note: by the by, spell check turned 'punkin haid' into 'Penguin Haiti'. I might like that better.]

And I'm strangely attracted to the idea of Burt Bacharach on the turntable and a couple gallons of beer near where I can get to it easily. There is a delay...

Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head,

Wiggy