Saturday, April 12, 2025

My Tax Audits: A Love Story


(Wiki commons)

The first time I went to the local IRS waiting room to meet the person who would be auditing me I imagined my auditor would be a monster, someone like George Harrison's "Taxman."

However, my actual auditor turned out to be a lovely young woman fresh out of college and more than willing to share with me the ins and outs of the auditing process.

Over the course of that first audit, which lasted several weeks, I gradually learned how to comply with the arcane rules I had clearly violated while trying to juggle a full-time job, two part-time projects and some random income as a freelance writer.

One of my main problems was that I couldn't convince her that my workspace was a legitimate home office, because it was also used as the kitchen, dining room, and playroom by my three young children.

Also, I had not kept a written record of my many lunches and business meetings or of my frequent travel as I juggled work assignments. The agency clearly had not yet figured out how to handle a multitasker, as the word had only originated recently (1966) and was not yet commonly applied to human beings. 

By the end of that first audit, my auditor ruled that I owed Uncle Sam enough in additional taxes and penalties that it automatically triggered audits for the two subsequent tax years, focusing on the same set of issues.

But I wasn't about to suffer the same fate two times in a row, let alone three. Besides, I had come to like my auditor and as we parted after that first go-around, she told me,"You know, you can request me to be your auditor for the next one if you want to, you have a right to do that."

So when I showed up for my second audit, I requested to be assigned the same auditor and the IRS granted my request. This time, I showed up with a complete printed register of all of my lunches and meetings, tons of receipts (all numbered consistent with the register), and a more convincing argument that my home office was legit as it now consisted of a desk in the corner of my bedroom.

There were no toys or dinner plates on my desk when the auditor paid her visit for the mandatory inspection, but there was a plate of cookies.

That second audit ended much better -- in a virtual tie -- I didn't owe the IRS anything beyond what I had paid when I filed my tax return.

In due time the third audit commenced. By now, I was determined to reclaim some of the money confiscated by the agency back in that first audit. I again requested the same auditor. By now I looked forward to renewing our acquaintance and continuing to demonstrate that I was a fast learner. 

She seemed please to see me again too. This time around we had long conversations during which she told me about her dream to get out of the huge, frustrating government bureaucracy and get a job at one of the Big Six accounting firms. 

We’d become friends by now, and our conversations were distracting enough that she only had time to give a cursory check of the impressive documentation I had prepared of my business meals and meetings, global travel, and an extensively outfitted home office that transformed what had previously been my bedroom into a distinctly professional workspace.

In the end, my lovely auditor gave me some welcome news: My arguments and documentation were persuasive. The IRS would be issuing me a refund -- almost identical to the excess taxes, penalties and fees assessed me back in the first year of our auditing relationship.

So in the end it was one win for the IRS, one win for me, and one draw. Net-net, nothing was lost, nothing was gained, except one new friend.

And yes, I admit it. I had developed a bit of a crush on my IRS auditor. Enough so that I almost wished that I could be audited again.

Almost.

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