Give Me My Money Back, You Bitch

It's only been about two weeks that I waved goodbye to the 9-5 world. So it's no surprise that I would still have a few unresolved issues that need some resolving. That's what I've been working on in my spare time in between attracting clients like ants to a sugar party.

One of the biggest issues is reclaiming all the money sitting in my flex transportation account. This is an account I set up through my old employer that would withhold money per pay period for transportation purposes. After each pay period, I would fill out a form and request they give me this money back. They would then promptly write a check, and all would be right in this world. The purpose of an account like this is to shrink your taxable income by removing your transporation expenses from your paycheck per month. You could just claim all this in one lump sum during tax time, but most people are too busy forgetting to do their taxes for this to be a realistic option.

When I left my last job, I had forgotten to claim several months worth of transportation withholdings. This was awesome for me because it was like winning the midget lottery, assuming midgets need only a fraction of the money that big, normal people like myself require. So I called up the company that handles these accounts, spoke with a rep, and was instructed to file a claim for the full amount. So I did.

Weeks go by and I receive a check for not even 50% of the total amount owed to me. Why? Because I can only claim so much per pay period. I explained I am no longer an employee of the company and that I was clearing out my account in full and that I was instructed to do so. The woman on the phone (who works in Kentucky or Ohio or some bumble-fuck state that is full of bumble-fucks) didn't quite grasp my logic, which is the logic of the universe. Her logic was obviously rooted in some parallel dimension where insanity = sanity, up = down and people drink horse milk and ride cows. After a futile battle with this customer service sphinx, I was told to speak to another woman.

After making multiple calls to this other over the last several days, I am still waiting to speak to her. It's like Waiting for Godot, I guess. I'm waiting for a nice-sized check that will never come due to a customer service rep that will never call. God is dead, people. God is dead.