The term “class” has several uses, it can be the sophistication of an individual, the rank of social group one is a part of, or the set of individuals present to learn a subject. There are several variations of available uses for each ranging from “being the best in its league” through the type of quality grading food products receive. “Class” is a word of wide utility but I’d like to bundle all of the forms above to talk about my experiences in a tax office today.
Benjamin Franklin told us “In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes.” We know Benjamin Franklin was a signer of our Declaration of Independence where “all men” are announced to be “created equal”, and the government that taxes us today still stands by the philosophy that we are “equal”. So since last I checked the statistics for American’s was 1 in 1 people die, I’m going to call death and taxes a safe equalizer, but when you’re standing in the office interacting with varying taxpayers you sure wouldn’t think they knew it.
Every individual that enters that office has taxes. Whether paid or unpaid, prepared or unprepared, waiting for a refund or waiting for payment vouchers, the individuals in that office have taxes. So that creates a commonality. The office only has one waiting area; everyone sits in the same style chair in the same area. And only one type of coffee is served in the same style of plain Styrofoam cup. Each individual is greeted with the same basic script rehearsed by the same employee. Wow, that’s three things beyond taxes now that the individuals in the office share, but that’s the point. Sharing doesn’t happen.
The polished brief-case bearing business man saunters in rather confidently. Either he is not concerned about taxes or really just doesn’t mind, but he needs to be seated where he can see the clock.
The couple chatter in, asking about the rules of filing jointly for refund pick-up, how much can they write off for a new home purchase? And request to be moved ahead because they have a babysitter waiting at home.
The pregnant single-mother wobbles in, hands full between protecting belly and keeping a toddler from tipping over, asking in hushed tones what sort of child care credits can she get, and what happens if she haven’t received child support in a while?
The fast-food worker swishes in, proceeded by greasy apron and the smell of smoke, needing to know, exactly how long will the wait be? He’s on break and brought a borrowed car.
And the quiet one pads in, holding bundles and offering a hotel number for her contact. She’ll wait if it’s alright, even if it will be a few hours. And she studies the wall poster “RECEIVE YOUR REFUND TODAY!” with covert eyes and fidgeting fingers.
There are more than just these four people that frequent the office, but it’s amazing that each dons a class of their own. With all that is similar in this setting, the waiting area is curiously silent. They won’t talk about the weather, how long the wait has been, or if the economy will turn up. They don’t comment on the movies showing next door or the dancing sign holder at the corner. They don’t laugh together at the little boy trying to somersault in the middle of the room or the secretary that drops a pile of papers. Each is in his or her own little realm boxed off from the tax office-world they share, and no matter how long they are stuck with us they won’t break out.
They have their classes, but I have to wonder when the momentary circumstances are leveled why they still impose those positions upon themselves. It seems as if class is not merely a socio-economic placing, but that these individuals manage to rate and teach themselves to stay in this role when it really isn’t necessary.
Those that are making the least in the room choose to condescend themselves as if I will look poorly on the income they made, will think it is wrong to be employed where they work, or will judge them poorly for living where they do. In response to their own judgments of themselves they slouch, do not make eye-contact, speak quietly, or even blush or tremble. They minimize their existence as if they have less permission to it than those that appear to make more than they do. And that really is it. Appearances have an enormous impact on the “class” these people teach themselves that they belong to, and how much “class” they think they are allowed to show.
Because at the front desk I am wearing slacks and a blouse it is assumed I am their superior when really the majority of the clients have made more and work much harder than I do. If I say something about tax I must be right, there is no dissention, even if they have paid their mortgage for years and I have never had one. I’m granted a “class”, a status, which I’ve not even earned. It is like the teacher walking into the classroom, because I happen to be at the front of the room it is decided that I must be the expert instructor. Positioning and perception does so much to determine the metaphysical station I hold. These perceptions prove fatal to engaging in conversation or any communication at all.
On the opposite extreme, are those with “more class” and of a “rank beyond me.” I am the simple secretary, and they have more important people to speak with. In their perception I cannot have anything to contribute to them as they have already surpassed me.
Of course they have, they have more years of life and experience to draw from however in the process they’ve traded in the value of a pupil’s mind. There is something to be gained from the perspective of life’s student and the way that student learns. I have a view they cannot regain, and the unsullied mind is a currency of its own.
If the office is a classroom each client takes notes on where they ought to fit. They find their desk, pick their “group members”, and only trade homework and accept input from the students that they like, or deem can contribute the most to them. The value of teaching others is not there, and yes, we usually pay the teachers, but that is but one type trade we make and the teacher is only paid for how he or she can lead the student. It takes a teacher to teach, but also a student to learn. There are two parts to the equation, and neither has a place without the other.
But anyway, they don’t really teach themselves tax in the waiting area. That’s why they’ve come to the office, because they want or need our help and resources. They teach themselves about themselves, and practice their lessons by silence. I’m not sure they all realize they are choosing not to learn, or maybe they simply think they like the lessons they already have better than the potentials. But they are created equal, and brought themselves to the equal place to work on the taxes they all have. I wish the barriers they’ve invented on the basis of inequality could but put aside. It’s just a waiting area, just a tax office, just a few hours. What more stability and commonality do they need to brave a little communication? Let me correct myself, a little more open communication. Because their postures and total neglect of each other send some messages loud and clear.
Maybe I am wrong. I thought that being human was commonality enough for us to interact with each other, and that by bringing people to a place where that commonality would be deeper and the “classroom” was the same relation to each other could occur more frequently.
But I know that I am not. I still see those people that give me hope, the ones that don’t mind that they’ve still got wet cement stuck to their pant legs, they’ll sit and chat with the elegant woman in pearls. And the child of the affluent couple that tugs on the apron of the MacDonald’s fry cook and asks if she’s met the Hamburglar. Or the 16 year old teen paying his way and staying with Grandma that asks if I’d like to go out sometime. They get it. We’re all human, we’re all breathing, we all live in these things called bodies and interact in language and dwell in an economy that trades our work for money. Same government, same nation, and same nature we walk through every day. Those individuals likely don’t need the sameness though. They know the world is a classroom and we’re all in it, and they don’t mind where the lesson comes from because they are aware nobody decided there was a certain subject they had to learn. They don’t classify, or if they do, they can put it aside for a little while and not practice to themselves who they can interact with and how, or what standards can judge or place them .
While a single tax office is not the best representation of the demographics available in America, and definitely not the world, as a whole, every model requires some simplification and this is mine.
They all have taxes, and they have finite lives. Enough equalizing? I think more than enough. Let’s try to quit being “classy”, get out of our own leagues, suspend grading, and stop trying to sort everyone. I’ll start in the tax office and I encourage you to start somewhere. There are differences, I will never deny that, but when we broaden our perspectives we can turn the scale horizontally, and realize it’s not a matter of some being further above or below us, but some just being further away from us. There is only one expert on every individual’s life, and so I advise we discontinue this habit of missing our opportunities to share discourse with so many experts, because too frequently we only receive that one opportunity.
