There’s no safety in numbers at tax time, so just hire a pro
I don’t do my own taxes. Never have. I can’t. I don’t do numbers.
I had a high school algebra teacher once who said, “Wilson, I hope you don’t think there’s a future for you in math.” I wasn’t the least bit offended.
I quickly responded that I knew there was no future for me in math — happy about it, in fact — then went on to lead a very full life, touching numbers only when I dialed a phone. That was enough.
I’m so bad at the number game that back when I made $5,200 a year — yes, folks, that’s $100 a week, and yes, folks, it was at a newspaper — I walked my sad little W-2 form over to a very nice lady at H&R Block.
Even she was taken aback, saying she was absolutely sure I could do my own taxes and very graciously handed my W-2 form back to me. She thought she was doing me a favor.
So I went to the next desk and handed my papers to another tax specialist, who was more than happy to take my money, filling out my tax forms in less than 10 minutes.
Yes, I waited. They even gave me a cup of coffee, which at the time I thought a very good deal.
I’m still surprised when I meet people who love numbers, love doing their own taxes. They get some kind of odd rush this time of year. Strange.
I suspect these are the same people who keep their own stats at baseball games, the guys with their own clipboards.
Also strange, since there’s a board right there that tells you what’s going on.
That’s why God invented accounting firms, too. To tell us what’s going on. Bless them all.
A very nice man named Brett does my taxes. I’ve never met him. That’s fine. I send him a pile of papers. He sends me a bill. Cold? Perhaps. But it works for me.
Works for him, too. I pay him a lot of money for this service. I don’t care. I’d pay him more.
Just as long as it all adds up, and I don’t have to touch anything more than the phone.