The Tax Collector's Story - 1

[Chuck Stromme]

How do you become an IRS tax collector? Likely, few of you have ever asked that question. I ask it myself only in retrospect, after spending 27 years doing that and closely related jobs, then retiring to do an international version teaching the same thing for several years.

I had a job, jobs, before I became a tax collector, “Revenue Officer” (RO) they call it at the IRS. I left a job as a foreman at a semi-conductor plant to become an RO for less money. “What an idiot!” did I hear you say? Well, yes and no but that’s what I did and this is my story.

I was working the graveyard shift at a Santa Clara chip plant when a co-worker who drove a classic Mercedes-Benz convertible asked me if I wanted to drive to San Francisco after work. We’d grab some breakfast first and visit the federal job center in the federal building at 450 Golden Gate Ave. I was single and restless and sure, that sounded like a great idea, and he did own a nice car.

We stood in line at the job center and when he had gotten what he came to get we turned to leave. The lady at the counter said to me “How about you? Can I help you?”

“No”, I said. “I’ve got a job.” So did my friend. I usually don’t understand warnings in time.

“Would you like to take the job test”?

“No thanks, I took it once already.” I’d scored a 98 as I recall, and with my 5-point veteran’s preference that put me pretty high on the hiring list. By now, though, I had lost contact and interest.

“Well, let’s just look you up.” In the movie of my life Lily Tomlin plays this lady. She browsed through whatever records were available to her and found my name. “Oh, you were supposed to be removed from the list”, it had been more than a year, “but I can renew you if you want.” “Sure, that would be fine” and I turned to leave.

“Sir? Wait. Would you like a job interview?”

“Well, maybe. When?”

“Right now, if you’d like.” Turns out that my 103 FSEE score (the long-obsolete Federal Service Entrance Exam) entitled me to a walk-in interview, no appointment needed, any time there was a federal job opening that interested me. Who knew?

The jobs that were interviewing were with the IRS, Revenue Officer and Revenue Agent (RA). An RA is a professional-level auditor. I had enough accounting classes to qualify for an interview for either job. I smoothed down my wrinkled work shirt, brushed off my breakfast crumbs and went to the interview. I knew nothing about auditing but I did know a guy in Reno who was an RO. That gave me a huge advantage over interviewees who were clueless about the job they were interviewing for.

The panel asked me some background questions, some questions about what I would do if someone started crying when I was collecting their taxes (a telling warning of their opinion of the job -- I dredged up some of my friend’s stories) and some questions about my Vietnam War experience. The war was still going on for a handful of nearly-abandoned advisors, some luckless aviators and POWs and millions of Vietnamese. The panel, none of whom admitted to being veterans, expressed some interest in what was really going on in Vietnam. As if I knew. I didn’t know while I was there but ignorance has never stopped me from having an opinion.

A few weeks later I got a call. “Do you still want the RO job?” For no good reason I felt like I had won something, something important. The government wanted me again. Again, that is, after my military experience had soured me on the idea that working for the government is a good thing. But memories, even bad ones, fade. I was giddy. I won! Disregard that I was making more money in a job with a limitless future, working in an ultra-modern plant with an overwhelming majority of female co-workers. I had beaten all those other applicants for the job. I won! Reality didn’t start to sink in until later. “Of course I still want the job.”

[Ransom Southerland]

How did I miss this story on WriteNow? I've heard it in person a couple times, ok, a FEW times . . . in the interest of honesty, LOTS of times, but I never tire of it. I love the way little revelations fill in the blanks of how we know each other. The two funniest lines in this piece for me:

1. “No”, I said. “I’ve got a job.” So did my friend. I usually don’t understand warnings in time.

2. I won!

Talk about connecting . . . good grief.

Thanks for the piece Chuck - loved it . . . again.

Ransom

[Stephanie Southerland]

Oh, these twists and turns of fate! I can't wait to hear some more about the characters you encountered along this road. Lily Tomlin, indeed!