Boring Boxes With Boring Numbers: W2 Day

How’s it going?

I got my W2 today.

Really? That’s quick.

My work does a good job of keeping it in our faces that they have us by the adrenal glands.

Ha.

I hate W2 day. The entirety of the previous year of my life whittled down to a few measly numbers. As if I don’t feel bad enough about my capabilities they’re like, “Here you go, Simple Simpleton. It’s all laid out for you in black and white because you’re such a mindless drone you couldn’t possibly handle anything more complex. Oh, and by the way, see you tomorrow and every wonderful workday for another glorious year because we own your insignificant soul. Cheers!”

Yeah.

And why do they have to print it out on such a little paper? I’ve been at this company for seven years and all I’m good for is half a sheet of paper? I already know my salary is minuscule, but do you have to write it on such a scrawny piece of paper? They might as well jot it down on a Post It note and slap it to the back of my skull on their way out to lunch, you know?

Yeah.

At least give me my W2 on a full size piece of paper, or something. Better yet, how about printing it out in 107 point type? Then add a few more zeros after the cents just for kicks. Then seal it up in a big manila envelope and have it delivered via FedEx. Give me something I have to sign for and unwrap and unfold. Make me feel like I really earned something. And why not put a stick of gum in the envelope? That’d be nice. Or a couple movie passes, you know?

Yeah.

“Let us treat you to a movie to take your mind of your meager salary. Too bad you can’t afford popcorn, jackass!” Right?

Yeah.

You can’t tell me people that make the big bucks get lame W2s on half sheets of paper. There’s no way all those figures would fit in those little boxes, you know?

Yeah.

They probably get a nice three-ring binder with laminated pages and dividers with color tabs and stuff. And instead of boring boxes with boring numbers in them they get photographs of all their money piled up in Wrigley Field or on the Golden Gate Bridge or on the moon. “You made this much money this year, you super hero! See how it fills up the Sea of Tranquility!” Or, “You made enough money to bury the entire Great Wall of China under 138 feet of 50 dollar bills! Here’s a souvenir picture of it to show to your friends!” And the photograph is signed, “Best of luck on another fruitful year! Love, The IRS.”

Do you want to sit down or something?

No. I’m good.

You’re shaking a little bit.

I said I’m good.