So we got this weird phone message at the house line regarding some money owed to the IRS. My initial reaction was, “Whaaaaa?” I wrote down the number and called this morning.

The man who answered made me immediately suspicious. His Indian accent was so thick I could barely understand him. He rattled off something about the call being recorded by the IRS, legal officials, and the police. My eyebrows gathered together.

Then he said that the IRS had audited us from 2008 and 2012 and determined that we had willfully attempted to fraud the US Government out of $3,981.00. I thought that was odd.

Let me just stop the narrative at this point to tell you that, IF I was inclined to commit fraud against the US Government it would be for a hell of a lot more than $3,981.00. I’m not going to prison for that paltry sum. I can’t even get a decent black market panda for less than $20,000. I’ve checked.

Back to the story.

He then informed me that they were seizing all my property and putting me in jail. I calmly asked if he intended to send me the regular round of official correspondence in this regard? He rattled off some highly accented bullshit legalese that I could barely understand but the gist of it was that he didn’t have to. He basically followed that up with the Hindu version of nanny-nanny-poo-poo.

Obviously I was highly suspicious at this point.

I asked if there was possibly someone who spoke English that I could speak to about this matter. That’s when he got nasty. Nastier, actually. He yelled at me that the sheriff would be at my front door with agents from the IRS to arrest me in the next 45 minutes. Seriously. Not 46 minutes and not 44. He knew the time frame.

Then HE hung up on ME!

I got off the phone and Googled the phone number and – surprise, surprise – there was a gazillion responses about this scam. So I blocked my caller-id and called the number back.

He answered right away.

“What are you wearing?” I asked. He hung up.

I waited an hour. I wanted to make sure he knew the sheriff hadn’t shown yet and I couldn’t wait around all day. I have things to do today. Nevertheless, I was willing to hang in there if they promised solitary confinement.

Awesome jpg borrowed from lifehacker.com

I called back. “I’m with the Homeland Security. We have reason to believe you have woefully–” He hung up again.

I wrote a page of Chapter 34 and called the number again.

“Is Barbara there?”

He didn’t immediately hang up. Score! He informed me in his accent that there was no Barbara there.

“How about Walter?”

“No.”

“Gwendolyn?”

“No.” He was beginning to get a bit huffy.

“Phillip?”

“No.”

“OK. Just tell Juan Fernando Guadalupe Jorge Rodriguez that I’m on the line for him.”

I think my giggling clued him in. It couldn’t have been my outstanding Spanish accent. He hung up.

I’m not insulted. I’ll check back in with him tomorrow.