Saturday, July 2, 2016

Chuck

Chuck

I had a plumbing company in Boulder
for about four years with a fellow Buddhist
plumber. Our accountant's name was Chuck.
Chuck was Canadian, but had lived in the 
States for quite a few years. Chuck had 
worked for the Canadian government as an
auditor, so he was a sharpie. My partner and
I would meet with him in his office once a
year. We never really discussed our finances
much with Chuck...just laughed a lot. He'd 
shrug his shoulders and we'd just start laughing.
We never had any taxes to pay during those 
years. One year during tax time, Chuck fell dead
in King Soopers from too many cigarettes, too
much coffee and too much deadline. I got the
accountant of a friend to do the books, but no
one could cook them like Chuck. After a while,
we got audited by the IRS. My partner took in 
boxes and boxes of receipts, all mashed 
together, and we thought the little weasel would 
be discouraged and give us a break. Not so. 
That little bastard spent six months sorting it all
out, collecting his salary, and we each ended up 
owing some thousands of dollars. I put off
dealing with mine for years...by which time the
amount I owed had doubled. Clinton did a kind 
of amnesty for tax dodgers like me. My dad said 
he'd help me, and my faux wife at the time did
all the paper work...so, I can actually say I had
one marriage I came out on top. I wound up 
paying something like three cents on the dollar,
so, I can raise my middle finger to the IRS with
glee....





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