Mad Hatter

Had to go to the Tax Office yesterday. Anyone who knows me also knows that I hate anything and everything that smells of bureaucracy, regulations and stipulations. Which means that when I’m faced with such, I feel more or less nauseous, which probably shows in my face.

Sometimes though, I’m pleasantly surprised and there is an actual person behind the counter. But most times, there’s a (wo)man turned machine, and that’s exactly what happened yesterday. An angry, sour looking and middle-aged (why are they always middle-aged?) woman stared at me with contempt, when she realized I actually had questions.

Had I not tried to look up the answers from the website? Yes, but it didn’t help much. So, had I called the service number? Yes, but it was impossible to get through. And so, finally, with a deep sigh and a rolling of the eyes mastered to perfection she allowed herself to do the math needed for my new tax forms. It took her exactly 15 seconds.

One could be excused for thinking that’s exactly what she was paid to do. Seriously – is it a job requirement to be a bitch if you want to work for the government?

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