No, that is not a typo. I am pitting, not the IRS, but the Post Office.
At 8 p.m. today, April 15, I headed to the Patchogue, N.Y. Post Office to mail my tax return. The Patchogue office is ALWAYS open until midnight on April 15. (Guess how I know.) Much to my surprise, I found ample parking, which probably had SOMETHING to do with the fact that the Post Office was CLOSED. No problem, I thought, they surely will have posted a notice on the door directing disappointed patrons to the closest location which is open until midnight.
Nope. Not a fucking thing posted on the door. I ran to the H & R Block office across the street from the Post Office, but they didn’t know any other late Post Office locations, either (they said more than 50 frantic people had already stopped by to ask.)
A call to the Postal Service’s 800 number yielded nothing, as the only way they can look things up is by individual zip code. In other words, you tell them your local zip code, and they tell you if that particular location is open until midnight. That’s right – they can only direct you to the right location if you already KNOW the right location. The poor sap on the phone tried to be helpful, but the only New York location he knew for SURE was open is in the middle of Manhattan, about 60 miles away.
The Postal Service website? Same deal. There is NO simple, central listing by state, county or anything else showing which locations are open late for tax filing, unless I am just not seeing it.
Fuck it. I am NOT spending $36.00 to file my returns electronically via TurboTax ($17.95 each for Federal and State), even assuming that I would be able to get through at 10:07 p.m. on tax night. I’ll mail them tomorrow, which my IRS whiz-kid sister in law assures me will be no problem (even without an extension request) as both State and Federal owe ME money. It’s just such a fucking farce. I’ll bet people who owe money are absolutely shitting themselves right now, trying to get to Manhattan to file their returns.
Oh, and if you’re going to write and point out that I could have filed earlier, cordially fuck yourself.
Thanks for listening,
Me