Oh Uncle Sam. While I love the fact that your little brother - the great state of Texas - will someday pay me unemployment benefits (24 days and counting with a dry well and I keep requesting payments), my love for you and your big red, white and blue hat is fleeing me faster than a senator denies an extramarital affair and illegitimate baby. First, I'm unemployed. Let's give a big thanks to a certain corporation that is based in a country north of us. It's fabulous to be given the pink slip by a company that isn't even US-based. By comparison, I'd have fared much better if I'd been in the UK. It is not a simple process to lay someone off in the UK from what I've seen. In fact, it's quite complicated. Why can't you protect me like that, Unca Sam?
Second, I just did a dry run of my taxes and found out that for the first time since I've been filing taxes (many, many years; seriously I've been working since I was 15; well, that's the first year I filed taxes), I flippin' owe money. Let's get a couple of things straight: 2009 was hell year for me, both professionally and personally. Not to mention that I got docked pay when the corp decided to close business days in order to uh-hum maintain operational excellence. So my income wasn't much above what I made the year earlier. Now this goat-bearded dude wearing a star-and-stripes jumpsuit is visiting me with his hands out for money? Hey, I'm a good patriot. I realize my ride here isn't free. But this, with everything else?
Ah well. I'll do another run. Maybe the program miscalculated. Yeah. Maybe.
In the mean time: Keep your distance my dear unca. I need a little time to suck it up.
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