July 24th 2015

Today I spent forty minutes on hold with Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs trying to sort out my tax code. And then when they finally picked up I passed the phone to my mum because I haven’t got a clue how taxes work. Mum said I was on a 172L tax code but I should be on something else. I barely followed what she was saying, and I have a maths degree. 

There’re two certainties in life, right? Death and taxes. Well I want to fight  the first and ignore the second. I mean, I get why taxes are needed. Hospitals are pretty useful, and a free education was nice, but taxes to me represent everything I hope to avoid in my career path. Payslips. 

I don’t want to be working a wage and then lose xx% of anything over yy-thousand, I want to sell a book for £6.99 and be given £6.99. And that all sounds very idealistic but that’s just me. When I get a house I don’t want a mortgage, I want to just buy it. I don’t want a credit card and spend money I don’t have, I want to have money on a debit card in one account and if I spend a tenner then a tenner comes out. 

Tax is for grown ups, I don’t want to be one of those. I want to live in my own little ideal world. 

I’m being taxed because I’m working 40 hour weeks because I have a three month holiday in three weeks time. 

Three weeks today. 

Jesus Christ. 

Fortunately because my mum knows far more about tax codes than I do, only my next payslip I not only won’t be taxed, but I’ll be given a rebate for all of the tax I’ve paid over the past few weeks. 

Until tomorrow, thanks mum. 



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