This is part 3 of a 3-part true short story.
Part One can be found here Just
the facts, ma'am
Part Two can be found here: WTF?
Are you worried about the government stealing your money
in Washington? Fuggedaboutit! Look closer. It's as near as your downtown Clerk
of the Court and County Sheriff’s office.
Part 3
No hope for the hopeless
I went to
my local tax collectors office, Form D6 in hand. I checked the number on the
next tab. It was 83. I waited a second in the very crowded room to hear a clerk
call “Number 46!”
I left.
I went
back a few hours later, and the room was still full. I took a tab numbered 26.
I sat down and pulled out reading material I failed to bring earlier. The clerk
called “Number 74!” The gentleman sitting next to me exclaimed, “I’m next!” I
asked how long he’d been waiting with his number 75. He told me two hours.
I left.
My local tax collectors office opens
at 8:30am. At 8:15, I joined the line of about twenty other souls currently
enslaved to the bureaucracy of the County and the State. When the office
opened, and I reached the door, I was handed number 24. I settled into my chair
and waited.
Forty-five
minutes later, my number was called. Keeping it as brief as possible, and
trying to remain as calm as possible, I gave the woman my story and my Form D6.
You must know that I had to ask.
“Why is it the Orange County website
offers all services online, only to require this form be presented in person?”
I knew she couldn’t answer with anything other than a sigh and a feeble attempt
at non-responsibility. She didn’t disappoint.
“I don’t know, ma’am. I can only
process the paperwork.”
I looked away as she did just that.
After a few keystrokes and shuffling of papers, she said, “Sixty dollars and
twenty-five cents, please.”
My neck popped as I jerked my head
back to face her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“$60.25, please.”
The file folder I carried contained
all of the paperwork I had received and copies of those I’d printed out.
Digging through them, I pulled out the document from the State of Florida
saying the $60 would be due if I didn’t pay by the 29th.
She said, “Six Dollars, ma’am. Not
Sixty.”
Still taken aback, but slightly
relieved, I asked, “For what?”
“The processing fee.”
“What?”
The look of strained patience was
priceless. “You can choose not to pay,” she said, “otherwise, $6.25.”
And do you know what I got for my
six bucks? She scanned my Form D6, which I had printed at home, from their
website, then she emailed it to the State! She even gave me the original back!
That explains the forced attendance. To collect a processing fee for something
I could have done at home!
I paid
$316.25 in total, plus interest on my credit card thank you very much “online
service”. I left irritated, frustrated, and feeling violated by those I
once trusted. Damn. I didn’t even get kissed.
Where's the hope? The lawyers I had turned to for
help became WM. By the way, I can’t help but feel their office didn’t bother to
contact me to ask my side of the story because they must have an agreement of
some sort with the court. Either that, or perhaps it was simply they got their
$90, so why bother?
Yes, I’m bitter.
As for
the original infraction, my mother taught me to look both ways before crossing
the street. Now I find she was wrong. I can cross the street anytime, with or
without traffic, because the law is on my side. It will make me impenetrable to
oncoming traffic.
Would
someone make sure this is on my gravestone…
Here lies JL Mo
She obeyed the law to death
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