A nation-wide postal delay causes a delay in the arrival of my 2015 tax assessment, which delays me in rectifying a grievous error in which I am overcharged around one thousand dollars.
This is not the first time this has happened.
Luckily, it’s an easy fix.
The balance is due in a week, the (delayed) note says the fastest way to contest the bill is online.
I spend 10 minutes filling out a form. It’s simple. It’s easy. It’s (surprisingly) not a complete eyesore.
I dare say, I’m enjoying this.
I’m starting to feel good about this process.
I start having thoughts like, “Look how easy the CRA has made it for me to do this. I love paying my taxes! Fuck, I love this country.”
Optimistically hits the “next” button. Agrees to all agreements and terms of service. All of them.
“Yes! Yes!”, I say patiently at each turn, “now please let me report this error before my time’s up, wonderful government.”
Hits “next”. Congratulates self on performing marvelous feat of adulting before 9am.
Pauses to consider limited-print run of t-shirts boasting: “Does more adulting before 9am than most people do all day.”
Form: “You will need a CRA code to complete this form…”
Form: “Code will be mailed to you in 10 business days.”