Utterly Taxing: An Expat’s Filing Saga - Part Two
by Sarah M. Duncan

Last I wrote, things had begun to look up, but a day or two later, my optimism was replaced by a new brand of the old scrambling panic and hysteria, the very  kind of panic that accompanies the horrifying realization one has zero time left to do something  of utmost importance. Like, say, your taxes.

We have all heard the saying ‘Time flies when you’re having fun,’ but I personally do not believe this is the only scenario in which Time speeds up. I believe Time also flaps his wings and flies extra fast when he knows you are running late. Jerk

True, I finally had a direction and had managed to establish contact with someone who knew what they were talking about, (both very positive steps) but it wouldn’t and couldn’t change the fact I had waited far too long to tackle this endeavor. The days of May were ticking by and the June 15th deadline to file my taxes with the IRS was steadily approaching with a scowl, completely unimpressed by my excuses, even if they were generally good ones. For example, because I enjoy being busy, I had become, one might say, overly involved here in Queenstown. I had joined a writers group, a stand-up comedy group, a community choir, become part of the backstage crew for a local production of Oliver!, taken jobs cleaning for NZ locals, and still had my first and most important commitment—my, erm, actual job.  Months ago I had assumed I had ‘ages’ to do my US taxes, but ‘ages’ had quietly and quickly become less than three weeks. Do what I say, not as I do/did, friends: take time, make time.  I was doing this, of course (the making and the taking) but I was doing it at the last minute, and so my worldly wise advice, naturally, is to… do it earlier.Still, as far as I was concerned, I had ages to do my taxes. After all, it was only December. Being overseas, I knew I had a two month extension over those back home, which made my tax return due on June 15th. Having decided I would tackle this project mid April, I happily carried on not thinking about my taxes like the rookie to adulthood I am.  
Months passed, and the middle of April knocked on my door, tapping her watch with raised eyebrows. By this time I had settled into one place, landed a job, and finished digging out all my documents from the various pockets of my dilapidated luggage, so with a brave face and a strong cup of coffee, I sat down one sunny sassy April afternoon and set out to go, see, and conquer.

But there I was, trying to keep cool and keep time by using the Taxplannercpa’s online system, which had presented me with an annotated list—very helpful, I might add-- of which documents I needed to send their way by a specific time so they could determine what my tax situation was (And hopefully I would qualify for the foreign earned income exclusion). This should have been fairly cut and dry for me, but the thing about doing your taxes in a foreign country is that a lot of those documents you usually have handily tucked away in your ‘us taxes’ folder at the bottom of your desk drawer—such as those ever important W-2’s—aren’t in your possession when you’ve relocated globally. Those W-2s and 1099s were probably sent to an old university address because you forgot to change it, or perhaps they were sent to your parents abode, where they (the documents, not your parents) have been buried beneath a pile of old bank statements and overdue library book notices at the door of  your childhood bedroom.  Or maybe (cough cough, guilty) you simply never retrieved them from your previous workplace in the hullabaloo of preparing to hop oceans.

In order to complete my list, I had to collect tax information from about four different places, which would have been a nightmare if it wasn’t for technology, bless it. I had to contact my old workplace, which took a few emails and miscommunications before I was sent my needed form. Then, it occurred to me I actually had one W-2 with me which was super and all… but I wasn’t the one who needed it. Edward, Kathleen, and Silvia did, but they were all back in the states. I considered making the form into a well-crafted, motorized, fool proof paper airplane and sending it over with one swoop of my arm, but friends of mine pointed out, albeit gently, that this was royally impossible, and well, stupid. I would have to face the facts… or, should I say, fax.

Now, this might surprise you, but as a backpacker, I don’t actually carry my own fax machine with me. Shocking, I know. Luckily, since I am living in a modernized society at present (hasn’t always been the case in the last ten months) I was able to hunt down a scanner for a small fee at a local internet center in the heart of town. Problem solving skills? Check and check.

I wasn’t home free just yet, though. I actually needed a bunch of numbers from when I worked here in New Zealand in 2009 for my US income taxes, and as I am not the most organized person on this planet, I did not have these sums. So, thus commenced the digging—digging for the email of my old boss, then emailing him and asking him to do more digging for the needed info on my behalf.  Luckily, other people seem to have figured out a system called ‘filing,’ making this a rather painless exchange.

By the end of about three days of rapid emailing , I was able to cross off every item on my list with gleeful satisfaction. The end?

Of course not. No tale would be complete without an answer to the poised ‘now, what did we learn?’ inquiry. So what did we learn, Sarah?

I learned, my fellow travelling/expat pals, to keep records. Although it is important to focus on saving money for the big trip and deciding what to pack and etc, etc, etc--- it is also really important to collect your tax and financial documents before you need them at the last minute ten months later. If I had had them in a neat little folder, my panic session would have lasted all of ten seconds, instead of a tiresome 60 hours.

And guess who is keeping all of her pay-slips from her new NZ job in 2010 in such a nice neat little folder in preparation for next year’s tax return?

See, I’m learning.