social…security?

MacBaby Tales from the Social Security Office

Another birthday. At my age they come and go like so many meals. There are a few which I would call watershed years. Like my thirteenth when I was bar mitzvahed at Temple Israel on River Street in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. For those of you not familiar with the Jewish faith, that’s when a “boy becomes a man.” But my parents still wouldn’t let me smoke. Some man. Then there was my fifteenth and sixteenth. The fifteenth was important because I could get my learner’s permit to get my driver’s license. I’d already been driving since I was about twelve, but that’s another story. The sixteenth, of course, is the biggie. Legal driving. Two weeks after I got my license I had an accident right in front of our house on Pierce Street while my parents sat on the front porch watching as I attempted a left turn into the driveway. I put on my signal and slowed down. Way down. Apparently the guy behind me was in a hurry, ignored my signal, and attempted to pass me on the left as I cut the Chevy, left towards he driveway. BAM! That was the precedent set for my early driving career. I’m lucky to be alive.

But this watershed year is one of the biggest. I turned sixty two. So Tuesday I went directly to the Social Security Office to file for my just reward. I walked in and this metro cop (Nashville) was standing by a table in the back of the room. He asked if he could help me. I told him I wanted to file for social security, he turned towards a little machine, hit a button, and generated a receipt with my number. 10. I was number ten. Yea! The room was crowded with a cornucopia of citizens, most looking tired. Everyone was wearing their coats. I found a chair and sat down. After a few minutes they called number 87. Oh gawd. There were three windows in the wall in front of us all with holes cut in the glass so we could talk to the people on the other side. The glass was bullet-proof. Hmm. A cop with a gun, and bullet-proof glass. Big signs saying TURN OFF ALL CELL PHONES. A phone rang. The cop yelled at the perpetrator to get out and don’t come back with that phone. He announced that anyone else with a phone that was ON would be asked to leave for the day. He was dead serious. Some little kid about three kept running around the room making mouth noises. We didn’t find out who the mother was until her number was called. “Number 4!” She tried to get her son to come to her but now she was busy at the window. “If that was my kid…” the guy next to me muttered.

I was there about eighty minutes when I heard “Number 10.” I leapt to the window. “Hi. I want to apply for social security.” I thought I’d be cute and tell the lady it was my birthday. She rolled her eyes slightly and turned to her computer. “Social Security Number?” I gave it to her. She turned to me and said they can’t help me today because there were only twelve minutes left in the day (before their quitting time of 3:30). I told her I’d been waiting for over an hour to talk to somebody and now “I’ve got to come back tomorrow?” That’s right. No time. NEXT.

I was pissed. I left. I looked lamely at the cop for some moral support. He was not amused.

The next day I was back. “May I help you?” I smiled at the cop in recognition. “Remember me”? “What do you want?” He was not amused, again. I told him what I wanted, he gave me my new number, 87, and I sat down. It wasn’t too crowded but I was afraid to get my hope up. An hour and a half later my number was called. “Number 87.” Thank you, God. I went to the window and told the guy why I was there. “Did you bring your birth certificate?” I looked at the lady in the next window, the lady who told me to come back the day before. She knew what I wanted. Why didn’t she tell me to bring my birth certificate? My guy took some paper work to the desk area in the back and came back. He told me to have a seat and wait. Someone would be with me soon. About a half hour later I was called in. Miss Dunn was very easy to talk to and VERY efficient. I appreciated that.

Then she asked me if I had my birth certificate. “It’s no big deal really,” she said. She gave me an envelope to mail it in. Or if I wanted to bring it by she’d take care of it. Hook-ay. I thanked her and left. I decided to bring it by the next day. The cop said he’d walk it in for me so I wouldn’t have to wait. Cool.

The next day I was there by 11:00 AM. I walked in and smiled as I walked towards the cop. “Hi. Remember me, again?” Still no recognition. “What do you want.” I reminded him that he told me the day before he’d walk my paperwork (birth certificate) in to Miss Dunn for me so I wouldn’t have to take a number again. He informed me they came down on him that morning about doing that. Oh gawd. “Do I need a number again?” “Well, let me walk back there and tell Miss Dunn you’re here. Maybe she’ll come out and see you soon.” He took a walk. I sat down. A minute later he came back. A minute after that she came out and called my name. Yes!!! I smiled as I handed her my certificate. She looked at it and said, “Thanks. That’s all I needed”. “Don’t you want to make a copy or something”? “No. I saw it. Thanks for bringing it in.” Go figure. I thanked her and left.

I found out later from someone who frequents that office why they had the windows with the bullet proof glass in the wall instead of just desks like they used to use. Apparently a woman from out of state had called the office to tell them she was moving to the area and she needed to see a councilor about something. She asked the person on the phone what she needed to bring. She was informed that a valid ID would do. Nothing else. Since she was from out of state she wanted to make sure she had everything right. The phone voice said “just ID.” When she got to the office she was given a number and told to wait. When her number was finally called she sat down with the councilor and was immediately informed she needed her birth certificate. She said she double checked the day before with the person on the phone and birth certificate was not mentioned. She was from out of town and could not get the certificate for a few days because everything she had was in storage in preparation for her move. The councilor was unconcerned. The woman became infuriated with the crappy service she received. Apparently the councilor said something to her to the effect that maybe she should open her ears and listen better. That did it. The woman grabbed the councilor and pummeled her several times before people could grab her. The councilor was beaten pretty badly. So after that incident came the bank-like windows with the bulletproof glass, and the armed cop who is never amused.