Feds gets, state of ill doesn't

There's something to be said about bureaucracy and effiency. Some have it; some don't. Why? People.

Here's my situation to compare, again, the IRS and the Dept of Revenue with the state of ill (Illinois - phonetically "ill-annoy") with the IRS: I go to the closing of the luxury vacation home that has multiple liens on it. Title company issues checks that day to pay off IRS and the state of ill. Two days later, talk to the IRS agent, who has the check in his hand.

Cut to two WEEKS later, and the idiots in Springfield who, from the start of my adventure with them, project themselves as a collection of inbred rednecks with attitude, still have no idea where the check is or if it has been deposited or if it has even arrived!

No computer can give any of these bottom-of-the-barrel collections creeps the answer and they are all too fat and corn-fed lazy like hogs in a factory farm to get out of their chairs and actually do something to find an answer.

"Give it another week." "Give it some more time." Meanwhile I'm not working because the state of ill levy on my wages is still in effect and I have no bank account because the state has seized my bank account.

"Call back later this week," Janie, and Jon and Sue tell me. Then they turn back to watching Oprah or reading People magazine. Time for another corn-dog and Pepsi break.....

State of ill just can't get it together

Ok, it's been a week since the closing and still, the state of ill can't locate the check the title company issued and overnighted to them. I called the title company in Michigan, and after checking again with my ever-alert and on it agent "Janie", the check was sent to the correct PO Box in Springfield.

"Give it another week," says Janie. Checked with the lien department at the state too - they don't even have the case yet, I'm told.

Aptly named, the state of ill. And to believe I must pay income tax for the privaledge of living here....If it weren't for my kids....

It's tentatively over - no tax court

We went to closing Monday - and a check was cut for the IRS: $228,332. For the state of ill almost $9,000. (state of ill = Illinois; this state does put me in an 'ill' state of mind when I think of "Janie" the brainless zombie I must deal with but that's another whole blog entry, or two). To think when the tax bill started it was around $140,000. Ex hubby cost not only himself and me but our son a nice chuck of money. Would have been useful in this lousy economy. College fund would have been great for our son, who's such a bright kid.

Did a little research on tax court but would be a moot point to go now to try to wrangle innocent spouse out of them.

Called the agent, the fourth one I've had during these past six years, and yes, he's received the check. He said he'll fax a release of the lien. Of course will check up on that.

And so it goes. It behooves the IRS to wait....do nothing to end things and settle the debt. Interest and penalties compounding daily....that phrase would haunt me at various times of the day and night. Compounding daily - to the tune of $100,000.

And of course, the innocent spouse has no recourse. More on this later...

An agent who is ..... nice?

I've been dealing quite a bit with Mr. G, the current agent on my case. He's been the fourth I've had the privelege of experiencing firsthand. And the word that comes to mind when dealing with him: nice. Really. Not a joke. If any of the higher-ups in the IRS read this, I'm sure if they identify him, he's in danger of losing his job.

Chronolgy of agents: Ms. E C: tacky, untrustworthy, flippant.
Mr. R S - idiot, unavailable
Ms SD J - snippy, unavailable, cryptic
Ms E (supervisor) - imperious, quick temper
and now, nice and normal Mr G

We're at the point where the luxury vacation home may be sold. There is a closing date. The IRS and the State of Ill may in deed be paid off.....

All events hanging in abeyance.... the ex is passively aggressively trying to run it off the track. Yet, everyone is lining up on the same side of the feeding trough as me: IRS, state of ill, realtor, title co, three attorneys. And there, on the other side of the barn, pissed off and indignant, is my ex who can't understand how the IRS tab alone is now over $228,000.

On it goes.....

"just 15 percent"

Many people said to me, “It’s just 15 percent” implying that I should continue to work and pay unfair taxes I was not responsible for incurring, and not responsible for paying, according to a US county court.

It’s true. Not much. The lazy state of ill (Illinois) can cream off fifteen percent of my gross (I made a little over eighteen grand last year) and it wouldn’t be that much. But eventually the feds will be in for 25 percent too.

And as a pay per visit nurse, making $40 for a follow-up visit, which is the bulk of what I do, I’m not being paid for drive time. If the visit takes two hours due to tedious multiple dressing changes or lots of phone time talking to doctors offices about their screwed up prescriptions, or new problems or whatever, that’s also diminishing the hourly rate. Add onto that charting time, and often I make around $10 and hour. I don’t make a lot. And the state’s picking away at me, because I’m an easy target.

The thought of schlepping out in the snow and wind, traversing the empty country miles under leaden skies, and doing it to help pay unjust taxation to the state – and eventually the IRS- was too much. In a way, it helped a lot that I wasn’t making that much money, and don’t especially love my job.

Yet, it was two entities that put the nails in the coffin of deciding to lay to rest for a while my nursing job – Julie Butterfly, she of living in a Redwood tree destined for the lumberjack’s saw for almost two years, and all those who call themselves War Tax Resistors.

More tomorrow on them.

Protesting unfair taxes - digression from it

I’ve had to take a leave of absence from my job as a nurse at a hospital. It was a hard decision. A protest. I'm not going to pay taxes I don't owe.

Yet, protesting involves sacrificing. I have kids. It’s not just me I have to think of. Not having medical insurance, income, etc. Scary stuff. Thankfully I live with someone who can support the bulk of basic living expenses. But he doesn’t have much. And that means no pocket money for me, no being able to go to Target and buy a cute shirt for my daughter or a cool notebook for my son. It’s basic land living, it’s not Disneyland, the place of mindless consumerism, that fake place which many in the country exist in the perpetual state – kind of like a being in a coma but able to shop. Yes, I’ve been in that state, in the store, eyes scanning the stuff, the prices, my perceived needs, my internal wants, and those wants produced by society/ads/others. Registering those people I’m with, usually my kids, but then they in that state, too. BUT I am aware of all that. Does that make a difference? Hah!

Well, anyway, now I can’t even go to that state of mind if I wanted to – where you have trinkets to show after going to Target lala-land. Although, and this is a major digression, I have been able to get into that state but without buying, by just looking in a store. It’s not all stores – just this one in particular. It’s a resale clothing store, and everything is pretty cheap. Adorable stuff for my little girl. So much. So many options. Tons of great options of clothing for me – if I had some kind of alternative glamorous life with cool artistic friends and we’d hang out at cafés in Paris, discussing art and history and our work, and then trekking to some remote place to interview meaningful people with fulfilling great missions to help others. So cool. Yet immature that dream life. So totally unlike my life now. Pretty sophomoric and juvenile. But hey, don’t they say hold onto your dreams b/c without them, the joyeaux la vie is gone. I’d have to go on Paxil or Prozac or Zoloft or any of the other SSRIs I see so many of my former patients taking to keep the truth at bay because they can’t use their imaginations to keep the spark of their individuality alive in their hearts. This gig is cheaper, and no side effects.

Basically, this resale shop enables me to go on a mental vacation. That’s what is is…. An escape from all the thinking of the financial mess and how to make ends meet, and how there will be no college funds for my kids, so what a terrible parent am I. The thinking and the resulting emotional payout – it sucks. When I go into the resale shop, which I must add is posh, warm, women who work there are friendly and talk about mom stuff in a cool way, they wear cool clothes – it’s all that outwardly acceptable societal samsara that feels so good to be a part of. When I leave, it’s how I used to feel after having a really good yoga class. Refreshed and relaxed and a-ok. It lasts a while with no hangover other than the time I spent in there. I rarely buy something that isn’t on the fifty percent off rack – which makes it $2-3 at the most. It’s weird, but it works for me. Something this gets me through the day. Scary, isn’t it.

But it's one way to get through, a five plus year drawn out mess with the feds and the state of ill.

Rarity of property seizures

Rarely does the IRS seize assets for failure to pay taxes owed. The War Tax Resistors site has a list of members who had property taken - not many through quite a few years. Apparently it costs the IRS too much money - it's too much work for them.

I was under the impression they'd take the vacation home. Somehow, somewhere in my mind, I had the idea that's how it played out. Movies, modern myths. I thought that's what they did if you didn't pay. It seems the "kinder, gentler" IRS just sits on its butt, and lets the interest and penalites accrue. "Working smarter, not harder" they are. I got to hand it to them.

Yesterday the judge ordered the second home reduced in price by $50,000. Now it's half a million. More later.....