Eight months ago, I felt like the most stupid person in the whole universe. I still do, but hey, I think I’m a bit better off now. Two days ago, I received the review queries from Mr. why-so-serious, and I was amazed to find I only have 4 (but actually 2 real errors) notes on the file. I was doing a mental high-five to myself. It felt really good. Nah…I mean, IT FELT HELLA GOOD. At that time, of course. Today, I am drained. Busy season is not only about December 31st year-ends piling up in the file cupboards, it’s also about deadlines. And yesterday was our deadline for T4s and T5s. As I was leaving the office last night, some partners were still busily cooking up the numbers in their calculators pondering how much is enough dividends to get the shareholder loan balance safely into a credit position.
Next stop are the T3s. Lucky me is also thrown into the Family trust team. I have been getting a splitting headache whenever I do trust. It’s like a baby file but what irks me is that it’s not as clear-cut as the corps I am used to doing. One, there’s that timing difference issue and two, you have to move around the numbers in a certain way or else you’re gonna trigger some section 572573289787 in the income tax act. Oh, did I forget to mention that whenever I do a family trust, I am reminded how poor my family is? I mean, to write your kid a cheque for $46,000? Can you adopt me, please? Seriously. Of course, that money may not actually land into the kid’s hands but used for some other transaction by the parent. Whatever.
After the T3s, there’s the T1 deadline in April, the season of which accountants are really famous for. I am also in the T1 team but my quota is only 150, I think. My grandparents just sent me their stuff three weeks ago and they want me to file their returns ASAP. I went through their receipts and I saw the Vet bills included…again. Oh man.
My sister is harrassing me to file her return by tomorrow. My mom is threathening me on how she won’t let me do her taxes this year because I’m not claiming everything she wants me to. Like the money she sends to her dad in the Philippines. Or her personal vehicle expenses. Or her 1998 medical expenses. Arghh. My mom and I have always fought during this time of the year. This year is not going to be different, I’m sure.
Two years before, I would have never imagine doing this kind of work, but look, I can prepare a T1 to a T5! ! ( Okay, I failed, that’s the best I could do to make my job sound exciting. In reality, I’m still sitting 98% of the day in front of a computer). Eight months and I still can’t get over the fact that I have a sitting job.
So is eight months enough to lose that invisible “Stupid” sign on your forehead? The sign appears every now and then but at least I can carry a conversation with a partner or a manager without feeling totally clueless. I can also look back to that Mr. Why-So-Serious fiasco and laugh about it. Geezzz…was I really that annoying?
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