the H&R Block Experience

So last week or the week before (damn you short-term memory loss) I took my taxes in to H&R Block to have them done. It all started out well. I called and made my appointment. Showed up on time and moved right to a "tax specialist". His name was Jerry. He was about seventy years old. Despite being old enough to fart dust, he was a tax wizard.
Before I took my taxes in I figured them out on my own. I was just using H&R to get my refund in a week or so. Well Jerry got me another hundred and some odd dollars. That's my motherfucker. Something to do with my 401k or company stocks or something.
Anyhoo, I call yesterday to see if my refund was in. I was ordered (and not in a good way) to call another number. After punching in all my info I found out my refund was in fact in. Cha. Ching.
So after work I cruise over to H&R to pick it up. I show up and the place was pretty dead, yet nobody was working the front counter. I leaned up on the counter and waited about thirty seconds for a lady to come up and help me. She starts out our conversation by ordering me off of the counter. "It squeaks!" she explained.
"I need your ID!" was the next sentence out of her mouth.
After waddling back to the file cabinet and searching the alphabetical file folders for a couple of minutes, she pulls my refund out of the file.
"What's your address on the refund?" she barked at me.
"20 Jump Street*" I reply.
"Well how come your license says '1620 Memory Lane*'?" she half-yelled back before I could even finish my response.
"Umm....I moved." I explained, which I figured was a pretty rational answer.
"You need to get this changed." she ordered (see any similarities?).
I need to stop watching that damn Chappelle show, because I caught myself before I almost accidentally blurted out "Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch?"
Then I went to the bank, cashed my check, and enjoyed $1000 worth of hookers and blow. (just kidding, it was $1350)

*actual addresses have been changed to protect n8