I had registered an Oregon business corporation to channel my freelance activities through, and I needed to file for a subchapter S tax election by the end of the day, so I rode down to the Federal Building in downtown Portland. The bike ride was glorious -- beautiful sunny day, cherry blossoms, 60 degrees -- but the Federal Building is a soulless high rise guarded by a metal detector.
I waited in a longish line for the receptionist in the ground floor IRS suite. I expected the receptionist to look something like this guy:
Not at all. My receptionist was a smiling clerk in jeans and a white collared shirt. "Welcome to the IRS," he chirped. I could tell my experience was going to be easy. I handed him over my forms and he made jokes as he stamped and filed them.
"What do you get when you cross a vampire with frosty the snowman?"
I said I gave up.
"Frostbite!"
I laughed and said, "I think that one's out of season! You need one about the Easter Bunny."
"Well, is it still flu season?" he asked. "What's the difference between bird flu and swine flu?"
I gave up.
"There are different remedies," he said. "With bird flu, you have to tweet it. With swine flu, you need oinkment." He smiled and handed me a copy of my form and sent me on my way.
Seriously, who expected that?
-Adrianne (@msfener)
