Tuesday, March 4, 2008
We have a "Liberty Tax" business in town and every year around tax season they have this poor guy dressed up in a statue of liberty costume who stands in the middle of the street shivering from the cold. I'm sure his boogers have permanently frozen to his face and his testicles have been swallowed up so far inside of him that they are probably in his throat by now.
But he stands there. Day after day, waving to passersby and I can't help notice how chipper he is. What's he so friggin happy about? Doesn't he realize he's standing outside in subzero temperatures wearing a dress and covered in green face paint? I'm sure it has nothing to do with how much they are paying him for his services. It couldn't possibly be that lucritive.
This would not be a good job for me. First of all, while I am totaly an attention whore in many respects, that's not the case when I am out in public. Really I would much rather people pretend I don't exist at all, unless of course I'm crossing the street in front of their two story, gas guzzling SUV. Then I wouldn't mind if they would catch a glimpse of me so as not to leave me as road kill splattered across main street. It would take a lot of moxy to stand waving, looking like a complete idiot while people stare at you with disgusted looks, point and laugh or spit their loogies at you from their car windows.
I know it's a gimmick and yes I realize that if not for him I wouldn't even know that Liberty Tax existed, but it's not really great advertising. It makes it seem like their business is just a joke. I imagine that if I would go into Liberty tax it would be like a three ring circus. Someone would offer me peanuts and excitedly inform me that "you can just throw your shells on the floor"! As I'm standing in line a man dressed in a clown outfit asks me if I would like a balloon animal and I tell him to make me a jackass. And the guy doing my taxes would be dressed as ringmaster and say that my taxes would be done by "SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY".
Yeah, it doesn't exactly give me the warm and fuzzies.
I want my taxes done by the geekiest man in town. The kind of guy who is OCD and irons his socks. The guy who measures how far each of his tires are from the parking lines. The kind of guy who can find a way to deduct a butt implant as a medical expense. Yep, that's the tax guy for me.