Massachusetts: It’s Not Me, It’s You
Today’s Brew: I’m going to need a drink.
An Open Letter To The State Of Massachusetts:
Hi. I’m a Mayflower descendant who’s chosen to settle about three miles from where your replica ship hit that fake rock. I like it here, most of the time. I even try to be a non obnoxious fan of your sports teams. Those are hard to come by. I started a business and in the midst of starting another, I pay my bills, I shop local. I do everything you ask of me.
So why do you insist on fucking with me?
1. You sent me a excise tax for a car I don’t own, have never owned, would never own on a bet. Why? Because someone in your department entered the license plate number wrong. I know this because the head of the department told me this the first time I called to fix it. But did she take care of it? No. You sent out a warrant for my arrest. For a five dollar payment on a car I’ve never owned. That you screwed up on.
2. The beginning of the year was slow, so I claimed unemployment. This is money I paid into. Not welfare. You insisted I go to unemployment school to keep my file open. I had to take classes in power point and excel. You wanted me to go to job fairs so I could talk to Lowes. I do makeup. For productions. It’s a highly specialized position. I wouldn’t have minded these classes if a. I didn’t already know how to do these things and b. If your instructors had been able to answer any of my questions. They claimed it was too hard to keep up with. Um, this is your job, and it’s 2013. That’s not an excuse anymore.
3. You decided to audit my state tax return. I already know there was a math error in my return. The federal government told me so. Today you send me a letter telling me this, and asking me to send you my W2s for the third time. Since the IRS just did this for me, I know the error is in my favor. If you’re wondering, tax department, I prefer my spankings over the knee, not in the form of a math lesson.
4. You make health insurance a nightmare. I sometimes qualify for insurance through work. Sometimes I don’t. So I rely on you. But I have a chronic condition that requires ongoing treatment. I can’t have gaps in service. And I can’t have you refusing to pay my bills when I qualify for your mandated insurance.
One of these things might have been cute. But all four together in a year make me want to break up with you. I can’t please you, and it’s getting harder to want to. There are forty nine other states that would love to have me. Their cost of living is a lot lower, and some of them don’t even have state income tax. I want to take this opportunity to remind you, oh great commonwealth, that you should be wooing me, not the other way around. I bring this to a public forum because I know there’s no fighting city hall. All I can do is point out your stupidity.
If I was as incompetent as you were, I’d be in jail. But no one will take any responsibility for any of these mistakes. I am a busy girl. I don’t have time to be cleaning up your messes. But what choice do I have? Every time you send me on one of these wild goose chases, you take time away from my business, or my personal responsibilities. That’s money not made or spent. Money that doesn’t exist you have yet to figure out a way to tax. So you’re just screwing yourself.
Get your shit together, Massachusetts. I have United Movers on fucking speed dial.