Identity Crisis

I’ve been thinking lately, “Gosh, I should let the good citizens of the world know how the wedding planning is going, since they’ve been voting and being so supportive and wonderful.”  

Then I remembered that I needed to finish my taxes.  So, like any good American citizen, I did my taxes and was honest about them.  And then I hit submit.  

For about 5 seconds, I was like “WHEW!  Glad THOSE are done!  And I’m even MORE glad that I’m marrying Peter so that next year HE can do the taxes!!!”

But then I got an email.

My tax return was rejected.  

So, naturally, I had a panic attack.

On this little rejection letter that they send you when your taxes are being rejected by the government, it gives an explanation of what you did wrong:

Rule Number: F1040EZ-524
Rule Number Description: The Primary Taxpayer’s Date of Birth does not match the information currently available in the IRS Masterfile.

If there is one thing I know, it’s my birthday.  If there’s one thing PETER knows, it’s my birthday.  But alas, sometimes my fingers type too fast, so I decided to look back and check to make sure that I entered my birth date correctly.

I did.  I knew I did.  And I did.  Anyways, I proceeded to call the Social Security Administration because that’s what the email told me to do.  After being on hold for 32 minutes, I found out that actually, this happens all the time.  Someone probably just punched in your birth date wrong.  Even though I’ve been my mom’s been filing my taxes for the last however many years, and this has never occurred before, this time, someone just punched it in wrong.  Complete faith in the system…

I’m sorry, this happens all the time?  I mean, it’s only my IDENTITY that we’re dealing with.  The lady on the phone proceeded to tell me that I’d have to go to the Social Security office, which closes at 3:30, asap to get this handled.  Do you have your social security card?  Your birth certificate?  Ironically, yes, my fiance and I are going to get our marriage license this week.  So I’d like to get this sorted out because I’m in my final days as a Vanderstappen, and now I don’t even know who I AM anymore.

So of course, as soon as I got off the phone with her, I started to cry stayed strong because I’m an adult who files her own taxes now, and called Peter.  And my mom.  And then I went to the bathroom to make sure I didn’t look like I was just crying went to talk to my boss.

Sara:  Chief.  You’re not going to believe this.
*Note – I don’t actually call him chief, but I would really like to start.  Maybe tomorrow.  Because it’s AWESOME.

Chief proceeded to ask me about an important shipment that we’ve been having problems with.  

Sara: No news about that, this is more serious.

Chief: … *concerned face*

Sara: So, I was being a good American citizen and filing my taxes.  But my taxes got REJECTED!!

Chief: Well.  That’s not good news, is it?

Sara: So I called the Social Security Administration, and it turns out that I’m having an identity crisis.

Chief: I can’t tell if you’re being serious.

Sara: My birth date is wrong in the social security system.  And now I can’t file my taxes.  And I have to go figure it out.  Chief.  Whyyyy me.  Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy me???  This is what I get for waiting until the last minute to file my taxes.

Chief: Well, Sara, this would have happened whenever you would have filed your taxes.

Sara: *Dramatic Sigh* This is awwwwwwwwwwwwfuuuuuuuuuuuuuuullllllllllllll.

Chief: Gosh, I could have hired an illegal immigrant and not even have known it!  Well, this is a first for me!

Sara: CHIEF.  I’m NOT an illegal immigrant!

Chief: I sure hope not!!

So then I went to the Social Security Administration office and took a number.  I was there for a total of 7 minutes.  The guy got it all taken care of for me, and then he felt bad that I was there, since I’ll have to go back in SEVENTEEN DAYS BECAUSE I WILL BE CHANGING MY LAST NAME.

Which is crazy.  

I’ll give you an update soon, but in a few words – things are going well and coming together nicely.  But I seriously cannot wait for one week of nothing except my Kindle in one hand and a margarita in the other.  

Oh, and quality time with my husband.


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