- 50 cents less an hour.
- Bi-weekly pay periods.
- Under 40 hours weekly.
- And most importantly, what you were doing it for in the first place, the bonus money. It’s a tax preparer’s second refund, which would have definitely recompensed for the peanuts the first one was. You won’t get any! Not even one thrown at you. And that should make you feel salty for being roasted. Why? 3 reasons.
- Although, when you was marking locations you preferred to work at, the ones nearest you, they still put you in an unchecked box like a pair of Adidas. A location that barely did over a 100 returns last season.
- Nobody really knows you’re a tax preparer on the outside. Remember when one of the managers said 40% of her clients are co-workers, people from her full-time job. You know, people who you definitely shouldn’t practice selective mutism with. Good thing you overcame it on your last day and announced to everyone who had been continuously posting THAT article on the walls in the bathrooms. Whew!
- You depended on your earth dad for clients. You really bought that 10K, 15K stuff? How many times has he lied to you, again? Yeah, okay!
- You get to see what Eric Cartman meant about fusing your ass into a chair. No more warehouse floors! But I question the goodness of it when treadmill use has been inconsistent.
- It’s on a bus line; you can get to it on your own. But sometimes you still …
- The third time was the charm. This, along with getting your first marketing/sales/customer service dollar shows just how persistent you are!
- Your fine ass co-worker ❤
speaking of initials
Futuristically Yours. The F is you, Har-old, the defeated, a body laid out on a canvas. The Y is me, Har+new, the victor, hands in the air. I’m not sure who’s who anymore!
P.S. I guess I will know on May 27th.