Life's Little Injustices (Take VII): We Got A Robo-Scam Call (And Lived To Tell The Tale)

From the moment that the Squawker nudged me awake, right around 9 a.m., I sensed that something was up.  However, the emergency didn't register right away, since I'd pulled a brain-melting all-nighter.  "Right, what's the problem, then?" I asked

"We just got a phone call saying, 'You're being sued by the IRS. We've tried to reach you, but this is just to let you know'...'"

Now I snapped awake. "Really?" I asked.

The Squawker frowned in my general direction. "I'm so tired of this, it's always an emergency around here, every minute..."

"Wait a minute." Now it was my turn to crease a brow or two. "What else did they say, exactly?"

"I didn't get a live human being," Squawker replied. "It was a robo-call."

"Ah, now I think we're getting somewhere!" I grabbed the portable phone and squinted at the number. "It's got a 202 area code, which is Washington, D.C. But would Uncle Sam pay for a long-distance phone threat, when they've got toll free numbers for this stuff?"

"Yeah, fair point," Squawker agreed. "Every time they threaten us, they usually do it in writing first."

"We've been paying them every month, like clockwork, while we wait for them to rule on our Offer In Compromise." I gestured at Squawker's laptop. "So I don't think we've actually done anything to get sued over. But why don't we do a reverse lookup on that phone number?"

And so, Squawker duly punched in the offending digits (202-BLA-BLAH). "Looks like some kind of online scam," Squawker reported. "Basically, people are getting these calls, saying there's warrants out for your arrest if you don't pay up right away."

"I suspected as much." I sank back down under my covers. "But next time we get such a call, don't waste your time listening to it...we'll just check it out together." (For further reference, see the Stack Exchange link below, which has some good tips and info.)

Note to scammers and bureaucrats: one thing doesn't change, whether it's a robo-call, or a real life robot is quacking away at the other end of it...you're not monarchs, as much as you'd like to think of yourselves that way. Your attempts to run roughshod over us are running thin -- and, while I'm not a betting man, I suspect the next such attempt will bring forth a torrent of harsh words (some printable in polite company, some not). Put it this way: there's a reason why we dumped all that tea in the harbor 200-odd years ago.

STOP PRESSES (UPDATE): Just when you think that dealings with public agencies can't get anymore surreal, they do....toward the end of the week, we got another phone call....but this time, the robot was live, and it had some news, which thankfully didn't sound like something out of Lost In Space ("Warning! Warning! Danger! Danger!"). Apparently, our settlement offer has been approved, and some official communique to that effect will wend its way soon here to Ramen Noodle Nation HQ.

Having lived with this monkey on our back for just over half the decade (see "Talking With The Taxman" link below for the full scoop), this development is obviously welcome, but the Squawker and I have elected to hold our breaths until we actually see the paperwork (as in: one swallow doesn't make a summer...we've learned not to praise the day until the twilight comes...and so on, and so forth). When that happens, I'll post some kind of update...till then, the devil's in the details. --The Reckoner

PS (3/17/16): The government accepted our offer: a one-time payment of $500, plus all future taxes paid in full, on time, over five years. Now that we've sighed relief a few hundred times...it's time for the real work to begin. We'll let you know how it turns out. Time will tell.


Links To Go (Read 'Em Before All Your
Interest & Penalties Skyrocket Again)

Ramen Noodle Nation:
Stack Exchange:
Robocall Claiming To Be IRS
Saying They Are About To Sue: Is It Legit?:
http://money.stackexchange.com/questions/55088/robocall-claiming-to-be-irs-saying-they-are-about-to-sue-is-it-legit

Talking With The Taxman About Poetry (Take II):
(Send Out For The Advocate):
http://ramennoodlenation.blogspot.com/2015/04/talking-with-taxman-about-poetry-take.html  (For some reason, this one's not firing up -- just cut 'n' paste the bloody thing into your browser, as I'm too tired to think of a cleverer way around the tech issue!)

The New York Times:
Tactics For Getting The IRS On The Phone:
http://bucks.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/02/04/tactics-for-getting-the-i-r-s-on-the-phone/?_r=0

Talking With The Taxman About Poetry (Take II: Send Out For The Advocate)

Yes, I hate to say it:
April.
Of course.
In which a tiny agent
at a tiny desk
with a gleaming
pinprick for a pen

crunched her numbers,
pored over her forms.

--Laura Kasischke, "April"

<i.>

For many Americans, it's safe to say that April 15 amounts to a day of mourning. Who looks forward to completing those forms, beyond those with a dog in the fight...all of those accountants, collection agents, tax attorneys and related apparatchiks whose labor greases the system? Of course, like so many moments in our stilted national conversation, you won't hear too much honest discourse -- beyond the usual stereotypical hand-wringing about our collective angst over how much we owe Uncle Sam (Scam?).

Then again, fewer societies force their citizens to work so hard -- and so long -- for so little benefit. As the above cover suggests, the IRS's rank and file is struggling with similar issues. Apparently, about half of all taxpayers' assistance calls go unanswered, because there aren't enough agents to handle all the traffic. If you've ever tried to get a human being at an IRS call center, you know what I mean...eventually, you'll get one, but only after a long time. (Half an hour isn't unusual, in my experience.)

It's hard to imagine any business surviving with a 50 percent "go begging" rate, but we should remember that a pro-biz publication like Bloomberg Businessweek often tells only half of the story. Behind the government-bashing ("Same ol' feds, can't even get on the horn to tell you how much ya owe -- nyuk-nyuk-nyuk, snark-snark-snark") are the same dark forces playing those sneaky panther power trip games with our lives...spending untold billions to create the best Congress that their money can buy...which is why the tax code has now ballooned to a mind-boggling 73,954 pages (versus 400 when Americans first began paying it in 1913).

Of course, that's no surprise, given all the goodies that special interests keep demanding. My favorite example is the honey subsidy, which I learned about during the early 1990s. I can still remember our congressman telling me that only 200 people nationwide got this particular tax break. Now, given all the panic about the Incredible Shrinking Honeybee, this hot little item might seem justifiable today...but how many other giveaways still lurk somewhere around the margins? The federal budget -- if you can call it that -- is larded with this kind of stuff.

"And it is for this reason that it is so important for you and me to start organizing among ourselves, intelligently, and try to find out: What are we going to do if this happens, that happens, or the next thing happens? Don't think that you're going to run to the man and say, "Look, boss, this is me." Why, when the deal goes down, you'll look just like me in his eyesight; I'll make it tough for you. Yes, when the deal goes down, he doesn't look at you in any better light than he looks at me." --Malcolm X (After The Bombing [of his home]: Speech At Ford Auditorium, February 14, 1965)

<ii>

Of course, there's always another side to the story.  Will Bloomberg's cover story make me get out the hankie and start shedding rivers of tears for all those poor IRS agents tasked with shaking me upside down?  Um...the verdict is...not quite. Or, as a certain urban ghetto clown used to say: "It almost brought a tear to my eye. I said...almost."

From a strict customer service standpoint, my encounters with the IRS's Finest have been hit and miss. Last winter, for example, I wrote to inquire if it was possible to reduce our federal IOU (which is somewhere around $6,200 and some change, give or take) based on hardship (since I'm also a caretaker).  What did I get for my trouble? A boilerplate form letter stating that, as far as the agency could tell, I hadn't been assessed incorrectly -- plus a pamphlet in the mail. Gee, thanks, Mr. Wizard!

One other phone encounter from last summer also sticks out, when I had to add another year to our installment agreement. For those who don't know, that's something you wind up doing when you can't pay in full. Your monthly amount typically goes up, which also raises the interest and penalties that they tack on -- which is how people wind up working (literally and figuratively) forever to pay off the same monster that gleefully ships jobs overseas and keeps wages frozen at subzero levels....but I digress.

Anyway, when I explained that we'd have to add another year on the current agreement -- which, if you believe the IRS website, is a fairly straightforward process -- the agent got really huffy. I've dealt with some brittle customer service representatives in my time, but nothing like this woman, who didn't have a chip on her shoulder...more like a towering inferno. I've blacked out most of the play-by-play, but essentially, she said that as the overall amount got larger, "we get really particular about things like that, if you're paying on multiple years..." 

I gently pointed out that, as a practical matter, the "or else" ultimatum might not lead to a positive working relationship...especially since my income fluctuates quite a bit...which means that by the time all that government machinery finally creaks into gear...there's not much left to collect.

No matter. She pressed on and on: I had an obligation...blah-blah-blah...which means the following consequences, real or implied...blah-blah-blah...so therefore, you need to consider...blah-blah-blah. Which, roughly translated, means: "We're the biggest, baddest motor scooter...and, by God, you'll do it our way."

Someone forgot to slip Jam Master Jay that particular memo, evidently...when he was murdered, it came out that he owed the IRS $500,000. Actually, the original amount was $100,000, but once all those interest and penalty rocks dropped...you get the picture. Heads, you lose, tails, you lose.

<iii.>

In the months after that conversation, I responded in two ways. On those rare occasions when I did have to talk with someone at the IRS, I'd continue the conversation if the voice sounded like an older white or black man. If a woman or someone with an accent came on the line, I'd "lose" the call and re-dial. It's nothing personal -- I follow the same policy when I negotiate on my phone bill. When you've been snakebit, your first response is to avoid any creature that starts hissing and flicking its tail.

This month, when the Squawker and I trooped off to the United Way for our annual assistance with our tax return, we asked the volunteer preparer what sorts of options existed for our particular situation. My overall income had dropped roughly 30 percent from the year before, reducing the overall rattling of coins falling into the Man's bucket. (Then again, after the conversation I've cited above, would you feel like taking another run on the hamster wheel, and keep busting your hump?  Like the clown said: "I don't think so.")

Our thought a moment, then pulled out a sheet of paper, and wrote something down on it. He handed it back to me, saying: "Try the Taxpayer Advocate's Office. They're a sub-agency of the IRS, but they don't actually work for them, or get their money from them. I've written down the regional number for you."

The Squawker and I looked at each other, and that same refrain crossed our minds: "I'm from the government. I'm here to help you."  We thanked our volunteer preparer and went home.

We've heard that refrain before, but who knows, maybe there's something to it this time...we'll have to see.  I'll call them up next week and see how it goes. I won't hold any expectations, pro or con, until I hear what's involved. Hopefully, I won't get another brittle woman with a towering inferno on her shoulder...but, like the song says: "You cannot win if you do not play." --The Reckoner

Links To Go (I Owe, I Owe, So Off To Work I Go):
The New York Times: Tax Break
(At Tax Time, No Accounting For Poetry):
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/15/opinion/sunday/at-tax-time-no-accounting-for-poetry.html?_r=0

And -- How We Got Here From There:
Forbes: IRS Gone Bad: Are Things About To Get Worse?:http://www.forbes.com/sites/kellyphillipserb/2011/10/26/irs-gone-bad-are-things-about-to-get-even-worse/

The Washington Post:
Declining IRS Workforce Leaves Calls Unanswered
As Tax Day Approaches, Union Says:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/federal-eye/wp/2015/04/06/declining-force-of-irs-employees-leaves-calls-unanswered-as-tax-day-approaches-union-says/

Talking With The Taxman About Poetry? Not In This Case...

Sorry to bother you,
Citizen taxman!

No thanks...

Don't worry...

I'd rather stand.

I've come to see you

on a delicate matter;

the place

of the poet

in a worker's land.
Vladimir Mayakovsky, "Talking With The Taxman About Poetry"

Now and again, we all experience what The Reckoner likes to call "The Rod Serling Moment" -- an experience that's so bizarre, off-kilter, and downright surreal, it cries out for an image of the late "Twilight Zone" writer addressing the camera.

For anyone who's watched the cavalcade of reruns on July Fourth, those moments tended to occur when Serling wanted to double-check whether you were really listening (hint: which typically followed his utterance of that telltale phrase, "Submitted for your approval").

Examine these figures

of loss and gain,

the production

costs

I have been facing,

the raw material

I had to obtain.

With the notion of "rhyme"

you're acquainted, of course?
--Vladimir Mayakovsky

My Rod Serling Moment occurred (surprise, surprise) during my latest phone conversation with the taxman. I was calling for a straightforward enough purpose (amend an existing payment plan), but that didn't spare me the 15- to 20-minute-plus wait that's become part of our IRS experience. Either they haven't hired enough agents, or maybe it's some weird rite of passage (remember, this is what bureaucracies do best: keep you cooling your heels).

I kept a book handy, and ignored all the voice mail jail prompts; perversely enough, I've found that things work better if you pretend to sit on a rotary phone. Finally, I got through, and started talking to a pleasant-sounding woman who assured me, "Things are going in the right direction."

"That's nice to hear," I responded.  "Now, I just have to ask a fairly straightforward question -- I just got my latest tax bill, and well...I can't pay that in full, either...so can we add 2013 to the current payment plan?"

The agent assured that me that I could.  Then she paused, and I got my Rod Serling Moment: "What would it take to fix the problem?"

"Excuse me?" Now, it was my turn to pause.  "What do you mean, exactly? I never had anyone ask me that before."

"We're required to ask those things now," the agent responded, slipping back into the stone-faced demeanor that screams of all IRS-related activity. "When we're dealing with people who are paying on multiple years, you're supposed to be doing something to correct the problem."

I couldn't laugh quickly enough.  "What would it take to solve the problem?  More money coming in, what the hell do you think?"

"What keeps you from paying the bill in full?"

Upon my honour,

Citizen Taxman,

words

cost poets a pretty penny in cash.

As we poets see it,

a barrel

the rhyme is,

a barrel of dynamite,

the fuse is

each line.

--Vladimir Mayakovsky

"Look," I sighed, shifting the phone receiver to a different ear.  "It's pretty simple, actually.  I work for myself, but once I finish paying all those various people every month, who have their palms held out...well, essentially, there isn't anything left over."

"Oh, OK, I see."  The agent didn't press further, and we turned to more comfortable territory...hashing out the technicalities.  "Your installment payment will now go up from $62, to $65 per month. Is that OK?"

"Yes...I believe that we can accommodate you," I said.  (How does deadpan humor translate over the phone, anyway? I asked myself.)

"And do you want to keep your payment date on the twenty-eighth?"

"Yeah, fine, works for me."

The agent resumed her initially breezy demeanor (the other basic IRS mode; the flipside of the stone-faced sourpuss, in other words).  She was back on familiar territory, so everything was fine again.

"OK, I'm going to put you on hold for two or three minutes, so I can enter all this information into the computer...then, I'll come back on, and give you a time frame for the confirmation letter that I'm going to send out," she said.

"No problem," I answered, "I'm patience personified."

I see your form,
there's a list of questions:
travelled abroad?"
Or spent all the time here?
What if

I've run down

a dozen Pegasuses

in the course of

these

fifteen years?!

You want to know

how many servants

I'm keeping,

what houses?

My special case please observe:

where

do I stand

if I lead people

and simultaneously

the people serve?

--Vladimir Mayakovsky

Just before the usual ersatz muzak kicked back in, however, the phone went dead, and the call cut off.  I called back right away -- this is why they tell you to keep that agent's ID number handy, right? -- but I got the same mechanized warning: "Your wait will be greater than 15 minutes."

The problem was, I had to be somewhere in 15 minutes, so I shrugged my shoulders, and let the situation slide...your tax dollars at work, right?

Two weeks later, the confirmation letter duly arrived in the mail, so I guess we're back in familiar territory...and everything's fine, for now...until my next Rod Serling Moment kicks in, I suppose.
--The Reckoner