If, heaven forbid, you are looking for the IRS office in Lombard. It is conveniently located in a building that shows no indication whatsoever of it being anything other than a conference center. Once you find the office map inside and figure out that it’s on the 12th floor, off you go on a safari looking for the special elevator to take you up there. As the elevator door opens, look to the glass door entrance and notice how instantly the air becomes stale and dreary. A miserable looking man is slowly, very slowly, accepting the next customer in line. He can take his time you know, he’s a government worker. So you get a number and wait…and wait and wait. A fat and useless looking “officer” stands “guard” in the corner; he doesn’t look like he’s alive let alone able to stop a gun waving psycho (that’s your tax dollars hard at work folks). When your number is finally called, you slip open an office cubical door to enter an even more depressing area resembling a prison cell at Stateville (they are recording your conversation by the way and you can ask for them to turn it off). You are now sitting in front of a person who is getting a cut of your paycheck just to sit there, look bored, go slow and scare taxpayers sometimes to the point of suicide. Depressing huh? Luckily I wasn’t there for taxes. Once you have finished dealing with the miserable lump you waited so long to see, you slide the cubical door open again to come face to face with a picture of our dear leader on the opposite wall. Don’t make any smart comments about him, wouldn’t want you to get audited.