Tax doesn’t have to be Taxing

I’m doing my tax. Because this is the first year I’ve made any money in the guesthouse this is the first time I have to claim all the expenses of the build etc. I’ve been picking my way through all the categories and trying to understand why one thing is claimable and another is not. I even got myself an accountant, but it turns out they just plug the data in, you still have to present the data. Truth is, I love a good spreadsheet, but it doesn’t feel “nourishing” when you realise you’ve spent 4 hours working out that you can claim £8.59 back on your internet bills. There’s also this bizarre illusion that expenses that are claimable are free, a small shiver of excitement when you realise you can claim the tax back. You forget it’s just that, you get the tax back. It’s not free, it’s just that you won’t pay tax on that amount if you actually make any money. Woo hoo. You still have the make the money first.
Anyone around in the UK in 2009 will remember the Moira Stewart’s Inland Revenue self assessment advert. “Tax doesn’t have to be taxing “ she said smugly. Well it fucking well is. Gary and I have had years of humour from this line, Gary delightedly chiming in at every opportunity (of which there are many) as I blow off about how obscurely difficult it is to work what they actually mean in the forms. I mean, it’s not rocket science, it’s not even a complicated sum, so why are the forms so impenetrable? “But tax doesn’t have to be taxing” he’ll intone, seriously, never failing to be amused by this. I just looked the advert up to get the date, and I have to acknowledge it was quite a funny series of adverts. The phrase “thinking man’s crumpet” came to mind, and I thought that was about Moira Stewart, who indeed is quite the babe in these adverts. I’m reminded of the famous row about BBC axing all the female newsreaders, crumpet or not, at the age of 50. But in scrolling though the news I read it was in fact Joan Bakewell, not Moira, who was dubbed the “thinking man’s crumpet”. Joan, was a veteran broadcaster the Times called “the government’s ageism czar” who challenged the BBC about the issue. Oh there is a whole pile of blog subjects just in this last paragraph about so many issues. I admit to finding this sort of language funny, but I’m beginning to see how detrimental it can be, humorous or not, to continually and habitually demean women through this sort of language. “Thinking man’s crumpet” is actually quite insidious on a lot of levels, as is “ageism czar” because someone points out that any woman over 50 is being fired from the BBC. Just looking that up in Google brought up a slurry of typical newspaper headlines, and most of them subtly sexist, agist or simply downright rude, about woman in general. That’s a subject for another day.
Fact remains that tax is challenging. Whilst I wallow in my beautifully manicured spreadsheets, the deadline looms. To add insult to injury, I get dumped by my tax advisor. This opens a whole other can of worms. It appears (for want of any other explanation) that I’m asking too many questions. I know, logically, that £585+VAT to throw together a tax return when someone else has done all the donkey work, should allow me the luxury of a few questions. There’s clearly something going on here that isn’t just about me, but all my old, all but forgotten, insecurities arise out of nowhere. Am I difficult? Have I become (or have I always been) the sort of person people roll their eyes at when I enter a room? Do people make throat cutting gestures to their colleagues when I’m on the phone to them? I have come across enough tedious people in my previous line of work to know how annoying it is to be with a detail oriented person when you’re not interested in their particular detail. I am aware that my obsession with balancing out every decimal point may be a step too far for most people, but I think I keep most of that to myself. I don’t demand an audience for my spreadsheets. I honestly thought I danced the line between vaguely “special” and charmingly witty in an approachable way. Apparently not. Now if I’ve learned anything from RuPaul’s Drag Race it is that I am who I am and I need make no apology to anyone, so why does a small town accountant who is intimidated by my questions bother me? If anyone is typically more tedious than a software engineer it’s got to be an accountant, should I really be worried what he thinks of my personality? It’s not even my personality, it’s the job, surely, tax law by its very nature is subtle, detailed, nuanced. And on top of all that I really do know this is nothing about me. But given that I barely know him, never mind seek to impress him, why does his opinion matter and why does it throw me into a puddle of anxiety and regret? Thankfully though, and this is evidence that my self work is actually working, it doesn’t suck me in for long, and quite soon I’m just mildly irritated, rather than drowning in despair. Now I’m just plain fucked off that he’s wasted so much of my time, and that I recommended him to one of my friends.
Thank you Mr Accountant for reminding me that I still have insecurities that are ready to swallow me up when I wobble. Thank you, Mr Accountant (thought the temptation to name him is real, maybe I’ll send him a copy of my blog) for reminding me, in the most mundane way, that to shine my light I have to stop caring what other people think about me. Thank you Mr Accountant for reminding me that what other people think about me is none of my business. I do OK thanks, I have enough people who do like me for who I am, I don’t need more friends but most of all, thank you Mr Accountant for reminding me that one of my biggest “workarounds” is thinking that people have to like me in order to treat me well. That I won’t get fair treatment, or even professional courtesy, unless people like me. That I have to ingratiate myself to people just to get a fair shot at things. This (subconscious) belief is so ridiculous that I’m actually ashamed of it: it goes against so many of my conscious beliefs. Consciously I want to believe in the best of people. I want to believe that people, generally, are trying to do the right thing, chose to do a decent job, just like me, they work hard, and if they have the tools and the opportunity and the encouragement, they will do a good job. They will treat people fairly. On top of that I like to think of myself as indifferent to what random people think of me. I like to think I’m self-assured and confident. The realisation that I’m wired to people-please horrifies me – when it extends to professional relationships, it appalls me. Oddly, I never encountered this in my corporate job, I was lucky enough to work in environment that encouraged outspoken people, that mutual respect was at the root of relationships between colleagues. But show me a plumber, an electrician, a neighbour, an accountant, and apparently I need to be the nicest, fairest, most likeable person in the world to them, just to ensure that they don’t screw me over. This is a hard realisation to stomach.
Workarounds are behaviours we use from an early age to protect ourselves from our negative beliefs, or the effects of those negative beliefs. My huge negative belief is “not good enough” and “unworthy” and stems from the lack of any genuine affection or affirming of my worth as a child. So it makes sense as a child to try to make people like you so that you feel safe. As an adult it is crippling. As I study my own workarounds through my coaching, I’m beginning to see how all the behaviours tie back to beliefs, and in this awareness, I’m beginning to shift them. So whilst I still topple into that black hole of despair when my accountant dumps me, I don’t stay there very long. And there will come a time when I will barely trip over it. In the meantime, thank you, Mr Accountant for saving £585+VAT and making me realise, again, that it’s something I can do myself. I also realised that it’s OK to love a spreadsheet, and if I can reframe it from “work” and acknowledge to myself that I actually get pleasure from doing these things, I could allow myself to enjoy it. So maybe tax doesn’t have to be taxing.

If you are interesting the coaching Kate has been through and now offers to clients, you can find out more here.