I'm the Tax Man

Cory usually does our taxes via TurboTax. This year we decided to go to our local Tax Man, thinking that with the baby and all, maybe there were things that we weren't claiming correctly or tax breaks we didn't know about. So last month, we ventured over to his 'office,' which was actually his converted garage. Please allow me to set the scene. You enter a tiny waiting area, filled with the aroma of burnt coffee. Pan left to the stanky coffee maker, Styrofoam cups, powdered creamer, and old-school Zenith TV, blaring Days of Our Lives. There's wood paneling, mangy carpet, and yappy dog taking up 2 of the 4 chairs. Pan right to the china cabinet housing porcelain dog figurines.

Tax Man comes out of his open door and profusely apologizes for making us wait. Its 1:03, our appointment was at 1. And let's note that his door was open the entire time he was meeting with his other clients and us. So much for confidentiality.

He starts exchanging pleasantries with Cory but I'm not really hearing what's he's saying because I'm fixated on his tucked in, short-sleeve button up shirt. I use the term, "button up," very loosely because only the bottom 3 buttons were actually buttoned, revealing a healthy dose of graying chest hair. To finish off the look, he's donning faded black jeans. Ladies, are you hot yet?
His office was even better than the waiting room. No word of a lie, these are items that adorned his wall:

• painting of dogs playing poker
• framed photo of a 10 year old kid (his grandson?) wearing a birthday crown & a black eye
• framed photo of the same kid wearing an in Interstate 420 ski hat
• framed photo of the Tax Man in front of a Corvette circa 1970

He starts the appointment off by getting our basic info. He's finger pecking his keyboard and offers up my favorite line of the day, "I can't type for shit."

All in all, he saved us $0, cost us $200, and got us no larger a return than years prior. Maybe this had to do with the fact that none of the tax reference books on his shelf were dated past 1974.