Ten Complaints About my Relationship With the Tax Man.

1. I don't think he really cares about me. I am just a tax file number to him.
2. It is not important to him to consider what's important to me. Shoes; the aquisition of beautiful shoes: these are not flippant matters. Other people get roads and baby-bonuses: this is just more proof that for him the only important people are road users (aka: petrol guzzling polluters who vote for him) and working families.
3. There is something about meeting up with him that always makes me late. About eleven months late at least. Maybe I just don't like him.
4. He doesn't understand me. That may be because we speak two different languages: Rational and irrational. They're still related?? Like French and Italian. I don't think he wants to understand me.
5. He only focuses on what I do and not who I am. No wonder he doesn't understand me. We are not our jobs—please tell me I am right in that. I can't be my job. I'll cry.
6. He wants to meet up every single year. I'm a busy person. I think that is a lot to ask. He doesn't give me enough space.
7. He has unrealistic expectations of what he wants from me. He wants things like group certificates (I don't know where the 'safe place' I put them is), receipts (they get systematically cleared from both my wallet and my email memory), bank interest (I don't find banks interesting) and a bit of organization. Luckily my stock broker is quite organised and so I tend to ride a little on his back. I present a beautiful folder with shares and dividends filed and alphabeticized, and in the back a handwritten piece of paper with the following: washed uniforms—dark wash/coloured wash, once a week, a dairy (crossed out) diary, $23.18 (ing), $4.36 (westpac), work said they would fax a copy of the gc on wednesday, oh, can I claim my True Crime novels (it's research into the criminal mind, in case a criminal mind calls), milk, dog food, oops wrong list.
8. Everything is 'by-the-book' with him. He's got no flexibility. How about chilling a little, man!
9. He is too involved with the State. I'm a communist. Opposites attract, I know, but then there are the three sacred cows: religion, politics and sex. I would also like to work for the Government (well, technically I do, but I am talking thought, not action, here), but I would like it to be for the 'other' Government. Like, I'd love to be a spy, but I don't want to spy for ASIO. I'd rather be in the French Foreign Legion (if it is still around) or the KGB (which apparently is). I don't know. Maybe I 'm just not a joiner.
10. He's blonde. I think I am more partial to brunettes. Maybe I could introduce him to B——. Although, there is also the fact that he is already married, with children. This was never going to work. Sorry.