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I’ve thankfully become calmer in recent years, as my teens and early college years have faded away and evolved into my late 20s.
When I was a teenager, I had one of those tempers that not necessarily scared you, but you confused you. Like “what’s this guy’s deal?” My ability to escalate my anger for no apparent reason at all was exhausting to everyone, especially me. I was an emotional 0-60. Similar to Dom Toretto, my temperament lived life a quarter-mile-at-a-time
Like most of us, though, I’ve grown over the course of the last decade, finally learning along the way not to fly off the handle over minor inconveniences. As far as I can remember, I haven’t had a true rage-filled outburst for a few years now. Until this morning, that is, as I was trying to track down my IRS Stimulus Payment.
I want to be clear: I do not live a life of luxury, but I’m also not in legitimate dire need of this $1200. It would be a massive boost, sure, but I’m not relying on it to go grocery shopping or pay the rent. There are people out there going through what I’m going through who are in far more precarious circumstances and my heart truly goes out to them. I cannot imagine the crushing stress of waiting for a life-raft as you begin to drown. I am not trying to compare my situation to theirs.
Still, though, I make a modest earning and I live within my means, so an extra $1200 to get ahead of my bills for a month or two would be spectacular. If only the IRS would let me have it.
I mentioned my former anger outburst because at approximately 7:32 a.m. this morning, like most normal people, I was emitting an almost demonic-sounding guttural shriek as I legitimated debated putting my head through my dry-wall as I sat on the phone with TD Bank. The reason that I’m speaking to some kind but ultimately useless customer service woman at the crack of dawn on this unassuming and unseasonably cold Wednesday morning is because, while the government did, in fact, deposit my stimulus check on April 15th, they sent it to a checking account that I closed down in January because it was defrauded. January! Worst of all, last time I spoke to TD, they assured me that they were in control of the situation and that my funds would be routed to my proper and current bank account in just two business days. Wrong! Wrong!
“Wait, so, you mean to tell me that you couldn’t just transfer it over to my new account?” I questioned. How is it possible for the bank to see my money in my old bank account and not forward it over to my new one?
They explained that they’d put in a request to transfer the funds, but that request had not been approved, thus reverting the money back to the IRS, who will be mailing me a physical check. But, of course, similar to the bank account, I fear that check is being mailed to an old address, the one I used on last year’s tax return (all if this is made worse by the fact that my Mom I filed my taxes at the beginning of the month like a good citizen.
Great. Now what? I go to the USPS website to put in an official change of address. I would have done this months ago, but, I never really had to, as I updated my address directly with all the companies who would be potentially sending me bills. With the address now changed, I cross my fingers hoping that the aforementioned check has yet to be mailed, which would allow the Change of Address to take hold. I try to call the IRS directly to let them know my situation before a robot tells me to basically screw off back to their website, which is useless to me, as the “Get My Payment” tool can never seem to recognize my information.
Splendid. What’s my next move? Ah! I’ll call my local post office to let them know personally. Folks, apparently getting in touch with living beings is a thing of the past, as the USPS — similar to the IRS — refused to provide me with human contact.
Any moves left? Right — I’ll call my former leasing office and ask them to pass down a message to the current tenants of my old apartment, essentially begging that they don’t toss any of my mail that they may or may not receive. This is where I stand now, and frankly, given how completely and disturbingly overwhelmed the government seems to be, seems to be my best shot.
I’d tell you where it all went wrong, but to be completely honest, I’m not sure. That’s the trick of all this: I shouldn’t even be worried about this money to begin with. In an ideal world, there is no such thing as the Stimulus Check. But instead, I’ve spent hours upon hours screaming into the abyss of customer service robots, trying to figure out why on Earth the IRS would send my money to an old account, why the hell the bank couldn’t take care of it themselves, and what I’m supposed to do if the strangers who live in Apartment 3A decide to do what they’ve probably been doing for the last year: throw out my mail.
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Eric is a New York City-based and New Jersey-born writer who still isn’t quite sure how he’s allowed to have this much fun for a living and will tell anyone who listens that Gotham City is canonically in New Jersey. Follow him on Twitter @eric_ital for movie and soccer takes or contact him eric@brobible.com