MONEY LAUNDERING AND TAXES...reprinted by request...for all my former banker friends...

I am starting to gather stuff for doing my taxes, and it made me think about how great things were in the good ole days. 

Remember how simple life used to be?  Someone would mail you a little carbon slip to let you know how much money you made.  All you had to do – as a law-abiding citizen – was run your finger along a line in the tax guide, and you’d know how much tax you had to pay.  You’d write a cheque for that amount, then go drink yourself blind or shoot yourself in the head, whichever was most expedient.  Things were simple back then.

Now, figuring out your taxes is a profession in itself.  Actually, it’s several professions; taxes now have their own accountants and their own lawyers, lucky little things.  Soon they may have their own psychiatrists…

Which brings me to banking (another insane institution.)  I remember when you’d take your paycheck and give it to the bank for a little while.  Then you’d go back a few weeks later to take out cash for certain life essentials like beer.  All the money would still be there plus some extra cash which you’d made on your money, called interest.  Things have changed radically since then.  Interest is passé.  Sort of like digital watches.

Now when you put your money in the bank (which of course you don’t…you put it in a cute little automatic teller machine where it mixes with everyone else’s packets of money in terribly amoral ways) – but back to the point.  The point is, that when you go back to draw it out again, you find there’s less than what you deposited.  Most of your money is there, but so is something else called a Service Charge.

I must admit I’m baffled by this need for a service charge.  I mean, exactly what services did these people feel it necessary to perform for my money?  Did they take it on field trips?  Give it a shampoo and set?  Have it drycleaned, and botoxed to iron out the wrinkles?

Frankly, I’m getting fed up.  If they’re going to take my money out on the town and show it a good time, the least they can do is teach it how to reproduce…

Melodie Campbell writes the comic mob caper series, The Goddaughter.  You can buy her paperbacks and ebooks at Chapters, Amazon, and Barnes&Noble.

Money Laundering and Other Services...by BAD GIRL

I am starting to gather things for doing my taxes, and it made me think about how great things were in the good ole days.   

Remember how simple life used to be?  Someone would mail you a little carbon slip to let you know how much money you made.  All you had to do – as a law-abiding citizen – was run your finger along a little line in the tax guide, and you’d know how much tax you had to pay.  You’d write a cheque for that amount, then go drink yourself blind or shoot yourself in the head, whichever was most expedient.  Things were simple back then.

Now, figuring out your taxes is a profession in itself.  Actually, it’s several professions; taxes now have their own accountants and their own lawyers, lucky little things.  Soon they may have their own psychiatrists…

Which brings me to banking (another insane institution.)  I remember when you’d take your paycheck and give it to the bank for a little while.  Then you’d go back a few weeks later to take out cash for certain life essentials like beer.  All the money would still be there plus some extra cash which you’d made on your money, called interest.  Things have changed radically since then.  Interest is passé.  Sort of like digital watches.

Now when you put your money in the bank (which of course you don’t…you put it in a cute little automatic teller machine where it mixes with everyone else’s little packets of money in terribly amoral ways) – but back to the point.  The point is, that when you go back to draw it out again, you find there’s less than what you deposited.  Most of your money is there, but so is something else called a Service Charge.

I must admit I’m baffled by this need for a service charge.  I mean, exactly what services did these people feel it necessary to perform for my money?  Did they take it on field trips?  Give it a shampoo and set?  Have it drycleaned, and botoxed to iron out the wrinkles?

Frankly, I’m getting fed up.  If they’re going to take my money out on the town and show it a good time, the least they can do is teach it how to reproduce…

Melodie Campbell writes the comic mob caper series, The Goddaughter.  You can buy her paperbacks and ebooks at Chapters, Amazon, and Barnes&Noble.

The Ultimate Weapon - Bad Guys Take Note

Reprinted with permission

Recently, I’ve taken a lot of flack regarding the size and tonnage of my handbag.  Not surprisingly, most of the flack has come from the other sex – that one that can’t find the butter in the fridge and has yet to come to grips with the purpose of a dirty clothes hamper.

Personally, I adhere to the “Purse as Weapon” school of fashion, mace being illegal in this country.  Which is why I carry a large envelope shoulder bag. Very large.  Imagine the Roseanne Barr of purses.  One swing from the shoulder can knock a runaway truck back 30 paces.  In fact, I’ve been known to clear entire subway cars in rush hour.

But the most effective use of a purse I’ve ever seen is this story from back in my bank manager days…

One day, a young man with a gun tried to force his way to the front of our lineup to make his demands known to the teller.  Unfortunately, he chose to do this on the day the Old Age Pension cheques arrived in the mail, and worse, the person he chose to cut in front of was old Mrs. Pereira.  Now, Mrs. Pereira may have been only four and a half feet tall, and probably weighed only 90 pounds, but so did her purse.  And being somewhat shortsighted, she may have failed to see the gun, but she certainly did not miss the sudden appearance of a very rude long-haired youth stealing her place in the line.

Being old school, she did not call for help; instead, she commenced whapping him over the head with a particularly lethal black patent handbag with heavy brass corners, while kicking him smartly about the shins.  The hapless bank robber was last seen howling and limping from the branch, followed by a verbal stream of indignant Portuguese.

Which only goes to show that one should always walk softly and carry a big purse.

Money Laundering and other Taxing Services

I was doing my taxes the other day, and it made me think about how great things were in the good ole days.  Remember how simple life used to be?  Someone would mail you a little carbon slip to let you know how much money you made.  All you had to do – as a law-abiding citizen – was run your finger along a little line in the tax guide, and you’d know how much tax you had to pay.  You’d write a cheque for that amount, then go drink yourself blind or shoot yourself in the head, whichever was most expedient.  Things were simple back then.

Now, figuring out your taxes is a profession in itself.  Actually, it’s several professions; taxes now have their own accountants and own lawyers, the lucky little things.  Soon they may have their own psychiatrists…

Which brings me to banking (and other insanities).  I remember when you’d take your paycheck and give it to the bank for a little while.  Then you’d go back a few weeks later to take out cash for certain life essentials like beer and pharmaceuticals.  All the money would still be there plus some extra cash you made on your money, called interest.  Things have changed radically since then.  Interest is passé.  Sort of like digital watches…

Now when you put your money in the bank (which of course you don’t…you put it in a cute little automatic teller machine where it mixes with everyone else’s little packets of money in terribly amoral ways) – but back to the point.  The point is, that when you go back to draw it out again, you find less than the amount you deposited.  Most of your money is there, but so is something else called a Service Charge.

I must admit I’m baffled by this need for a service charge.  I mean, exactly what services did these people feel it necessary to perform for my money?  Did they take it on field trips?  Have it drycleaned and botoxed to iron out the wrinkles?

Frankly, I’m getting fed up.  If they’re going to take my money out on the town and show it a good time, the least they can do is teach it how to reproduce…