I hate them

 
I worked for these people fo FIVE FUCKING YEARS.  I did everything they asked me to no matter how stupid, no matter how clueless.  I put up with his temper tantrums, his depressions, his suicide threats, his paranoia and him cleaning his gun in the office.  I put up with the wife's passive aggressive shit and the sighing and crying every time he asked her to help in anyway.  I baby sat their damn dogs when they'd just drop them at the office and go off for hours at a time.  I put up with their crap and shit because I needed a job.  I did everything for these people.  My work allowed them to live the high life, buy property, buy horses, buy toys, travel the world while I sat there and answered their fucking phones.
 
Then I watched him fall apart for the last year to the point where he couldn't remember conversations or how to use the editing software he'd been using for ten years. 
 
So all I need from them now is a simple W-2.  That's all I need from them after five years of service, a goddamn simple fucking W-2.
 
"Oh yeah, I forgot to fax that back to the accountant."  End of January.
 
"I've been really busy trying to straight out co-op problems so I haven't had time.  February.
 
"Yeah, we're going to have to pay a penalty to the IRS for filling late." Beginning of March.
 
If I have to file my taxes without my W-2 it's going to be ugly.  I'm going to have to go back through my deposits and figure out my net and hope I can estimate my gross from that, then I'm going to have to request a special form from the IRS on which to put all that "maybe" information.  Then I'm going to have to wait for them to finally file the fucking W-2 with the IRS so the IRS can compare my filing with their actual W-2.
 
I HATE THIS PASSIVE AGRESSIVE SHIT.  At least have the guts to look me in the eye and say "I'm pissed that we had to let you go and that I now have to work in the office." 
 
I didn't work for you for five years so you could turn around and piss on me.  You owe it to me to treat me and my very simple, very basic needs with a little respect.  Why is that so fucking hard for you to pony up?
 
And the real bitch of all this is that I won't be able to have a simple restful moment until I get that W-2 in my hands.  This will weigh on me.  The last thing in the world I want to do is have a conversation with the IRS about anything.  I've managed to live 48 years without ever having to talk to a representative of the IRS.  They scare me.  I don't want to talk to them because I don't want to wind up on their radar for any reason what so ever.  This is how I live my life, trying to keep from annoying people and organizations that have it in their power to make my life a living hell.
 
Too bad I didn't realize you were hell personified when I went to work for you.