The taxman never comes - he stands there permanently
The phone rang at an ungodly hour this morning. I am a writer and I write late into the night. My wife is a reader and she reads until late as well. So any phone call before 9 am works just like an alarm clock. I snatched at the receiver, snarled "yes?" into it and waited. My accountant. Usually he speaks quietly and sadly. "Hi!" It sounded like he was still at last night's party. "You are due for a 3,000 shekel refund from the tax department!"
"Great!" I said. "Why didn't you call earlier?" He asked me to come to his office and sign the tax return.
On the way back from his office I thought about the whole tax issue. I remember the time - it was exactly a year ago, when I received a letter from the tax department saying that they, or I, had miscalculated my tax pre-payments and demanding an immediate payment of 3,000 shekels or else?. I remember going to the tax department and arguing with a clerk to no avail. I remember how I ran into the bank to plead for loan. I remember how I stopped the chief family shopper from buying certain items and I remember taking other measures to reduce expenses until the scales returned to an even balance.
Of course two months later the panic was forgotten and all that happened was a sort of jerky adjustment to the new facts of life. Four months later we were back to normal and all was forgiven. One year later we are rejoicing at the prospect of the refund. I guess the government is happy too. They won the original argument with me about the amount; they had the use of my money for a year - I cannot help but wonder what they used it for ? I hope some needy family was at the receiving end, but I doubt it. It was probably spent on some minor item that didn't do anyone any good.
Whatever it was, I'll be pleased to see it safely back home where it belongs. It's mine!
