The moment you realise your village people work in the UK tax office

See ehn, I was on the phone with HMRC this morning sorting out my tax code. The lady on the line had this accent that was pure Ibadan, I could tell from the way she said 'please hold' with that Yoruba rhythm. I thought, ah, my sister, we go understand each other.

She asked for my National Insurance number, I gave it. She asked for my employer details, I gave it. Then she said 'Madam Bose, there is an underpayment of £2,347 from the 2024/25 tax year.' I said sorry? She repeated it slowly like I was the one who didn't understand English. I said my dear, how can I owe when they take almost 40% of my salary every month? She said 'the system calculates it.' I said the system is lying.

My people, we argued for 25 minutes. In the end she said 'you can appeal in writing.' I said I will appeal in person, I know where your office is. She laughed small and said 'have a nice day' in perfect British accent. Na wa oh. Even in diaspora, our own people will find you and give you trouble. The same woman who would call me 'aunty' at a family wedding was collecting her salary to stress me on the phone.