Taxes

Rochester, NY

The glasses hang down low on the nose. The keyboard crunches. Paperwork shuffles about. “Anything else?” he asks as I fidget across the desk. He writes down a few more things. After what seems like an eternity, the words roll out of his mouth like a slow motion, “NNNNNOOOOOOOOO,” from a TV show spill or accident.

“You look pretty good,” he says softly, not looking at me as he pecks away on the ten key. I pause, process, and smile. I normally don’t smile when a guy tells me I look pretty good. But when it is the tax man, you go with the flow.

We concluded. I stepped out of the office and into the snow. I even had to put on my sunglasses.

We all complain about taxes, but it makes you feel good to be an American when you know a check is coming from Uncle Sam…