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A Tale from 1-800-TAX-FORM

Greetings!

I am a 42-year-old disabled woman who had the great misfortune of trying to earn a living via working for the IRS. Not in any professional, valued, or professionally-valued capacity, but having to deal with the irate souls who called their 1-800-TAX-FORM line.

My deficiencies were many, but these three were key:

1. I actually tried to help customers, no matter how long it took.
2. I was hesitant to deal with anyone who used any four-letter words besides “form.”
3. I was terrible on the Spanish hotline, where 99% of people wanted tax advice. I kept trying to explain to them that if they didn’t want to order forms, I couldn’t help them. As in, at all.

Now for my tale.

An older gentleman (let’s say he was 85-90) called and said, “I need tax forms for the year 1006.”

(blink blink) “1006? That’s the Middle Ages, sir.” (It was 2006.)

“Nevertheless, I need tax forms for that year.”

“1006?”

“Right.”

I took his form order and put “2006” for the tax year. The drop-down menu didn’t go back 1,000 years.

After that call was over, I had to put myself on hold/mute and laugh for 15 minutes straight.

What I should have said: “Respectfully, sir, do you think you should be doing your own taxes?”

P.S. I am so glad I’m on SSDI and don’t have to worry about doing a job like that again.

What do you think?

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Let me put this in a way that an idiot could understand

Older Man Strikes Out when trying to reset his password.