My Hero of the Week

You know those letters you never, never want to get from the IRS? I got one last week, after I got my "stimulating" letter. This letter was not stimulating except in a bad way.

I have only gotten three of these letters in my adult life. Each is etched in my mind. The first came shortly after I came to Abilene. It noted that I had declared some farm income on which I had not paid taxes.

I scratched my head. I have, over the years, enjoyed my yard, but anything I would do would not rise to the level of calling it a farm. So, off I go to the filing cabinet and pull my return. It did not take long to spot the error. There was not place on the social security form to declare the fair rental value of my house for social security tax purposes. So, I scratched out a line and replaced it with neatly written words, "Fair rental value of parsonage." Well, the amount I put down was picked up and the words I had scratched out was "profit made from farm." Or, something to that affect.

So, I get to call the IRS and explain to them that I have never owned a farm and frankly have never known a farmer who said they made a profit. We got that straightened out after I wrote a letter explaining how I did not acquire a farm during the previous taxable year and how it didn't make a profit because I didn't have a farm to begin with. What I did have(really occupied)was a parsonage and I was making an honest effort to declare its fair rental value.

My second letter came the year after we adopted James. It noted simply that Jame's social security number did not exist so send them boatloads of money. I panicked. I don't own a boat and certainly could not fill it with money. If pennies would work, I could possibly fill up a small children's bathtub dingy, but beyond that, nothing.

I called the IRS again. There was no such social security number. I rummaged through all the paperwork I could find (and there were tons) and the one social security card I could find had been copied so many times all one could make out was a dark spot on one side of one page. The lady at the other end said, "Mr. Chancellor, we will work this out, take a deep breath, let it out, take another deep breath, let it out." She gave me the procedure--which always involves writing a letter and twelve weeks to process, all the while you are getting these increasingly threatening letters from the IRS. I was told to ignore them. But I ask you, when they promise to take all your money, your family, and do unspeakable things to your body, how can you ignore such letters?

Last week was the third letter. It seemed I had made no quarterly payments and therefore I owed the IRS(that is you and me buddy!) more money than I care to write down. I puzzle, I ponder, I panic. So, I pick up the phone and I get Mrs. Tucker. Mrs. Tucker had the misfortune of getting me in the rotation. I try(without hyperventilating) to explain the letter, and having previously pulled up my return I found the problem. I had written the right amount on the wrong line. It appeared on the line below where it should have appeared.

Now our tax return is about a half a ream of paper because my wife and I do counseling in addition to my pastoring. She makes money, I do not. However, the paperwork is enormous. I am glad I came along after the "Paperwork reduction Act," or I would send my return by truck. I also use a tax program that I have grown to love because, well, it helps with the countless hundreds of pieces of junk that goes into filing our return. However, this year, the right amount got put on the wrong line.

I don't know if you have ever had nothing to do and counted the lines on an average tax return but there are a few hundred, most of which don't make sense. "Put in $1800 on line 26. On line 26A put in a round number from one to a thousand. On line 26a, put in another number. On line 26aa break your pencil in half, etc." So the right amount on the wrong line equals nothing. The money one paid in does not exist. It vanishes from the vision and records of the IRS.

I start breathing like I was coached to teach Anna how to breath during our Lamaze classes. And then I begin my story. Mrs. Tucker says, "Well, Mr. Chancellor, let's take a look." Her voice was soothing and encouraging. She comes back and says, "I see the statement you were sent and it says you paid no quarterly payments." To which I respond, "Can you look at the return itself?" She surprising said, "Just a moment and let me pull it up." Elevator music for just a few minutes. "Yes, Mr. Chancellor, are you still there?" (It sort of depends on what 'there' means) "Yes, I am."
"Mr Chancellor, I see the problem. I think I can fix this right now. Can you wait just a moment?" Can I wait just a moment? Can I wait just a moment? She can fix it now! No letters, no waiting, no threats. Can I wait just a moment? "Mr Chancellor, I have the problem fixed and everything will be processed in about three weeks. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Mrs. Tucker, you are my hero of the week, but just in case, I will keep your badge number a secret. I want you around the next time the wrong thing ends up on the wrong line. I'm asking for you in person.