Friday, June 5, 2009

April Comes Earlier Every Year

Opened my mailbox the other day and guess what I found…

A CHECK!

This is a spectacular thing for me. I did my duty and worked me some freelance gigs a week and a half ago or so and this was my payday. This was great, I owe a bunch of money around and this is going to be a big help for me. So I open it up and it’s like $300 dollars short!

Alright then, time to do a little math.

After going through my calendar the hours seem correct. Originally when I was booked it looked like it was going to be more, but all the jobs didn’t take us the entire allotted time. So the actual hours worked were lower than the anticipated hours. Being that this was hourly and not a day rate, these types of things obviously effect the paycheck.

Ok, so worked a little less than I had anticipated, but still that doesn’t quite match up. The lower hours would have only made up about $150, so there is still $150 that I can’t account for that I feel I’m due…

So let me look at this stub a little closer. I have my Earnings… Taxes… Deductions… wait… taxes what is this?

What’s a FICA and why does it cost 40 dollars?

How is MEDFICA different than a FICA? At least that one only costs 10 bucks. What else is there, FED WTH? Those aren’t even words. NY, NYCITY, NY DIS.? What is all this? Well, how much is the total?


ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY TWO DOLLARS?!?!?

What the hell is going on here? What is this? Today marks the day that my payment plan for my aught seven Taxes. How much do I owe? I mean seriously? Doesn’t the government know I’m broke? They certainly should. I registered my brokeness with them. Are they not paying attention? I went to them like I used to go to my mother (and by used to, I mean last month) and beg for money!

Dear The Government,

In case you hadn’t noticed, I am receiving Unemployment Benefits. This means I don’t have a full time job, so if you would be so kind as to leave my wages alone when I actually DO get a gig I would appreciate that.

Seriously, I have bills to pay.

Regretfully yours,

Corporate Kerouac

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