I pulled over the car on the highway because the IRS was calling.
“Daddy, why are we pulling over,” said one of my kids. I can’t remember which one. I didn’t care. At that point I wish I didn’t have kids because maybe then I would’ve killed myself.
My now ex-wife shushed the kids.
The IRS was calling to tell me how much trouble I was in. “Can I put you on hold for a second?” said the agent who was assigned to me and still is.
“Sure,” I said but I wanted the call to be over Over. Quickly. As fast as possible.
My kids couldn’t talk. I was on hold. My ex-wife was upset.
We were on the side of the highway just five minutes from our home.
The first day of a vacation.
—
Here were the plans for the vacation:
All the women in the car were going to my ex-wife’s mother’s house.
There they would eat well, go to movies, sleigh ride, make snowmen, watch movies, and have fun.
I was going to a meditation retreat because I was stressed and this seemed like a way to relax. I had never been to one of those before.
Secretly, I hoped to meet a new woman at the retreat. One who wouldn’t know my problems. She would make me forget.
Does that make me bad? Probably. I don’t know.
I was still on hold with the IRS.
—
We worked out a deal to work out a deal. Which means I would have to pay everything I owed and then more, interest and penalties, leaving me broke. Again.
I tried to negotiate. The woman told me, “there is absolutely no way for you to negotiate.”
It was 2004. The last time I had filed a tax return was 1987. A few months earlier I was talking to a friend of mine, “I wonder if they will ever reach out to me.”
He said, “they probably don’t even know you exist.”
Then another friend of mine was running for mayor. I voted for him. The first time I voted since 1991. A few days later I got a letter from the IRS. They wanted 17 years worth of tax returns.
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