My Day of Infamy: Total Failure All Day Long

     It started out really early----Wait, can't mention that.  Too gross The next thing that happened---No one would welcome hearing about that.   Even worse---let's skip that expected but dreary recitation.  Later I actually left the house----but the first stop on my venture is painful even to recall, so I'll omit that event.
   My second stop was equally depressing, but I'll record the events anyway in case I'm tempted to do the same next year, should I still be recordable.
   I had brought our taxes for HR Block to prepare, and my mistake may have been to substitute proximity for professionalism.  I used the Mechanicville location just because it was closest, but I can't help but think H&R might not assign their best preparers to that city.  As background, know that I have done our income taxes every year since Dave left his employ where a tax accountant was available to its employees, for a small fee, of course.  But our returns were more complicated then, with itemized deductions, business and office expenses, company cars and other benefits.
    Since then, I have been doing our taxes solo, for decades, until I received a bill last year from the IRS saying I owed them $3500 for the preceding year.  It included interest and penalty of $500, so I paid the bill right away to avoid more damage.  I didn't think it could be correct, so I brought all the stuff over to
HRBlock in Clifton Park where a nice man named Ron told me I owed nothing:  there had been a $3000 Capital Gain from our investment firm but also a  $3000 Loss.  The IRS, he explained, only points out what was a gain.  They don't look into losses.  That is the job of the taxpayer. Ron examined and amended  the return, requested that the IRS return the $3500 and charged me a fee of $225 which I gladly and gratefully paid.  IRS refunded the full amount, including the penalty and even interest paid on my money they'd held.
   I thought I'd have HR Block complete our return this year, not wanting to repeat my previous oversight, and lacking the time and space for concentration. So I'm in Mechanicville, as I'd been called and informed they were ready, having dropped them off a week or so ago.  My preparer had told me that the fee would be "a little more than usual."  A complicated return, she said. I started to ask what was so complicated, but the connection was so bad we couldn't understand each other, though I heard her say eFile and the fee of $446.  Oh, I was entitled to  a refund of $1.00.   I walked to the desk this afternoon and identified myself to whom I'd have thought was the receptionist, but she later told me she was the office manager.  Before I said anything, she took out a folder and said she  was going to deduct a $25 Credit and replace it with a $50 Credit. When I asked how the fees were calculated, she told me it was a combination of hours spent and the number of forms used.  With credit card in hand, I asked to look through the folder before I paid, but no, that folder held only the statements I'd provided.  The actual return was on the computer still and she would need to go over it with me.
   Back in the cubicle, the "office manager" told me it was indeed a complicated return, but she didn't know why.  She had to call a preparer from another cubicle, asking to sit in on her explanation to me so she could understand it.  The new preparer said they'd had to compute the taxable amounts of my retirement and our social security payments, but agreed when I said those amounts were already stated on the form. Looking further, she noted that the original rep had filed a form for each investment transaction instead of going by the summary statement.  She'd have to  look into it.  I said I'd return some other time.  (I shall not return in any other year.)
   My final stop on my day out was McDonald's to bring Dave back a Quarter Pounder With Cheese.   McDonald's was crowded with people, at least a hundred, participating in some type of McD sponsored PTA function, kids all over the place, standing room only.  But they were checking in at a special register, so the regular line was not busy.  My receipt was #309, and when I heard them call #200, I was ready to ask for a rain check.  The wait was not too too long, though, because the first digit called indicated cash register #.
    Back home, my day went on----but way too abysmal to recount.