Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The WAI-AI-TING Is The Enragingest Part

Please excuse Mrs. Hillbilly Mom from blog-posting tonight. She is having a Not-Heaven of a time getting her IRS tax transcript, which the #1 Son needs by March 1st. It's not like he will qualify for any grants, or needs any loans. His FAFSA is done. But he's been "selected" for account verification. He only has one semester left, and only a few hours of required courses. But we don't want any problems in the financial aid office to interfere with his current scholarships.

I am so tired of jumping through IRS hoops that I might as well drape myself over a bare tree branch and call myself a Dali clock. This is exhausting work. Even though most of my time has been spent WAITING.

The stupid account thingy I set up in order to view and download that IRS transcript online does not want to recognize ANY of our phone numbers. Except for #1. He got his own tax transcript in about 2 minutes. Mine has to mail me a code, since they can't text it, because they won't recognize any of the cell phones. You know how our mail goes. 5-10 calendar days, they said. Just for a CODE number! Of course we never got it, after requesting it on Feb. 3rd.

Tonight I tried to get through by phone. Nope. Automated. After three tries, I THINK it's mailing me a copy of that tax transcript. Allow 5-10 calendar days! I say I THINK, because it took three tries, and two of them said they could not process it.

Oh, and don't get me started on the MAIL! The day after Valentine's Day, we got nothing. I mean NOBODY out here got anything. I know that, because, yes, I broke federal law and looked inside all the mailboxes on Mailbox Row. Nada.

AND...with the President's Day holiday, of course the mail wasn't delivered Monday. BUT...I had mail in my box this morning, BEFORE the mail was delivered today! Sure, it was just a magazine I never ordered. But it had my name and address on it. And was the only thing in any of the mailboxes. So I figure somebody else got it, and put it in the right box when they came looking for fresh mail.

I figure that secret code that I'm missing was also delivered to the wrong person, and they opened it, seeing that is was something from the IRS, like maybe a check, as if I'm that stupid and that efficient that poor that I already have my taxes filed and a refund on the way. Then, seeing as how it was nothing but a stupid six-digit code for something they didn't have the rest of the info for...they panicked and threw it away instead of putting it in my mailbox.

So now I don't know if to wait on that mailed IRS transcript, or try to have the code mailed again to access it online, or if I can do both without canceling the other, and Farmer H wants me to call the IRS tomorrow, as if I can find a number to a real live person, who will only tell me that HE has to call, because his name is first on the return.

I'm pretty much mad at the world right now. A new puppy would have gone a long way towards soothing my frayed nerves.

3 comments:

Sioux said...

HM--Maybe you should head to Kathy's Klothesline territory. I hear she has a puppy. You could at least get a puppy fix...

Have you considered renting a mailbox at the post office? I don't know how much they cost, but considering how much trouble you have with Embee, it might be worth the worry and aggravation.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Sioux is right, there is a bundle of soft fur that would bring your blood pressure down and have you swooning with love. She is also right about the PO box. They are pretty cheap. My daughter-in-law had her identity stolen from her mailbox and she uses a PO box now. It is a pain to have to collect your mail, but it could just be part of your daily routine, like your Diet Coke run.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
And Farmer H could get an EMU egg fix at the same time! I'll have to pencil that into our retirement calendar.

I HAVE thought about getting a post office box. Problem is, the same people would still be handling my mail, with only the last step removed.

***
Kathy,
Just the thought of little Eddie's fur makes my blood pressure go down. Or maybe that's my diuretic and 44 oz Diet Coke kicking in!

When we lived in town, I had a PO Box for a while, at the main post office hub. It was Box 104, and we kept getting mail for a local radio station. Including CHECKS from their advertisers. Good thing I'm an honest sort of gal.

Some places won't deliver to a PO Box, though. Not sure about the IRS policy on that.