The civil twilight for today is a taxation office. Not all taxes are the same and some jurisdictions are so complicated the rules on who pays what are crammed into a ten page bible for all to adhere and follow. The 1930's art deco building of marble floors, solid oak doors, and heavy brass elevators remains intact full of people who have dreams, ambition, and goals turning numbers for the state coffer. Enter the manager with Stevie Nicks hair and a soft raspy voice. Fair, kind, supportive with the expectation of trust in your job. Just learn the tax code and be professional. But when push comes to shove outside of work when an elder family member was suffering from abuse over finances, the pattern becomes all hands on deck. The manager called contacts within the state to investigate and try to help.
Who has experienced the true kindness where hierarchy no longer matters?
