Posted on 03/16/2012 8:32:28 AM PDT by relictele
A state DMV office is the stock-standard exemplar of government bureaucracy, sloth and outright hostility but I recently had occasion to visit a Social Security office. At the risk of stating the bleeding obvious, the Feds make the states look like amateurs.
But government in all its forms – particularly their indefatigable Fagin-like clawing at small coins – was on proud display even before I entered the hallowed halls of Social Security. I used on-street parking and fed the meter a few quarters. At one point it jammed, which caused the yellow violation flag to appear. After a bit of man-against-meter Greco-Roman wrestling it complied and I received 75 cents’ worth of parking for the $1.50 in quarters I supplied.
It just so happened that a meter maid was walking by. I nearly asked her about my situation but knew there would be a strong possibility of a refund only being granted after posting a third-class letter to somewhere in the US Minor Outlying Islands and awaiting the results of a six-week forensic investigation by the Department of Coin Rolling. Besides, she was too busy slipping a parking ticket under the wiper of a car with a blue handicapped placard prominently displayed on the dashboard.
On to the Social Security office, located somewhat poetically in the basement. Upon entry you are confronted with a computer sign-in kiosk – and a gung-ho security guard seated behind a desk. ‘There are five choices on the screen,’ he announced. ‘Pick one and take your number from the printer.’ Alas, no option for ‘Scrap this bankrupt, convoluted train wreck of a Ponzi scheme.’ Instead of waiting for the choice to be made, he soldiered on with his speech. ‘No guns, knives, sharp objects? Put your cellphone on vibrate!’ My two-inch penknife was still attached to my keyring, but I elected to stage perhaps the smallest act of rebellion in history by opting not to disclose this fact.
Of three service windows, only one – that’s 1/3 of available resources for those scoring at home – was in use. The others literally had window blinds drawn closed. Already a metaphor-rich environment, then. About half a dozen souls were scattered across the waiting area and it looked like a casting call for a film adaptation of a Stephen King novel. Taking pride of place was AC/DC Man – short hair, mustache and glasses, wearing a black t-shirt bearing the band’s logo. To be fair, he’d hung on to his black-and-turquoise, zebra-print, high-top basketball shoes long enough (two decades plus) for them to be ‘vintage’ rather than merely out of date. He seemed perplexed by the guard’s speech and was positively at sea where the take-a-number system was concerned. He eventually found a chair and within 30 seconds began snoring loudly despite being seated upright. Awakened by his own racket, he looked around and remarked to a woman two seats away: ‘I went to bed at 2:30 and got up at 3:30. That ain’t a good combination! But if it’s your birthday what else are ya supposed to do?’ The b-word hung in the air. We are all conditioned to say Happy Birthday but the sad spectacle of a 55 year old man fishing for a birthday greeting was too pathetic for words and so the silence remained – except for the heavy breathing through his nose which persisted even now that he was awake. And then his phone rang loudly with one of those frantic Keystone Kops tones. The guard frowned.
The Social Security office had the institutional beige walls and tile floor with three photos of the Great Men – President Obama and two others (presumably Social Security figures) affixed to the wall albeit in a wholly unnecessary stair-step arrangement, lest we forget who the top dog is. Placards and posters featuring Star Trek’s George Takei wearing a faux-Starfleet uniform (braided sleeves but no logos of course – Uncle Sam doesn’t do royalties) were everywhere – on the walls, on a table. Smiling George encouraged us to ‘Boldly Go’ (geddit?) to the Social Security web site rather than bother them in person. It was the kind of advertising campaign that could only have come from the mind of government – because what could be more persuasive than a gay Japanese-American actor from a television series that premiered nearly half a century before? George was joined, inexplicably, by Patty Duke on some of the placards. Patty never appeared on Star Trek (considering she was starring twice over in her own Patty Duke Show at the time) but she wore her velour top with the gold braid just the same.
Back to the ‘action’ at the window where a couple (?) were pleading their case. Hers was an ensemble featuring a tanktop that gave us a playful glimpse of amateur tattoos on the shoulder blades, visible bra straps and acid wash denim. His was a gray t-shirt, olive drab clamdiggers, and mid-calf black socks combination with provocative flashes of fish belly white legs. Hers was a random bird’s nest of hair in a shade of blonde not found in nature. His was a ponytail that reached his waist. I dubbed him Bipolar Bill.
I can only do justice to their farcical conversation with the window clerk by quoting it verbatim:
He: ‘Yes ma’am. I have a mental health problem known as bipolar disorder. I have been getting SSI but it was being sent to a responsible party and I need to change the person receiving it.’
(Inaudible response from window clerk)
Her phone began ringing. More Keystone Kops soundtrack. The guard frowned some more.
He: ‘I need to change it to her (gesturing to his companion). Is the next check going out on the first of the month? The person it has been going to is in some trouble with the law so I don’t want it going there anymore.’
The clerk withdrew and after a slight delay, the door opened. This was a case for the SSI sleuths! They are experts at changing mailing addresses, but not so good at detecting bogus claims of mental illness. Ah, well, it got the line moving again.
Eventually my number was called but not before AC/DC Man strode to the window. Confused by my challenge to his place, he animatedly told the clerk ‘She had A209, I have A210!’ My own ticket was C389, but I was next in terms of arrival time and that was the ticket she called. This nonsensical system is also used at the state DMV, and it’s another frightening look inside the bureaucratic mind. They attempt to mask the true length of the queue, apparently, by splitting it. Sequential numbers – infinite and understood by everyone since grade school, even AC/DC Man and Bipolar Bill, are replaced by a pointless letters-and-numbers scheme of A112, B483, C235, D549 etc.
At last I could submit my simple (?) request for a replacement Social Security card. Here again was the flower of bureaucracy. I had completed my application electronically (using their PDF file) but the clerk took this hard copy of an electronically completed form…and began typing my information into her computer. Hello? What about the web site advertised on every vertical surface of the waiting room? What about Boldly Going? What about George and Patty and their gold braids? Wouldn’t giving the citizen the ability to enter his information directly be a much more efficient use of the site, even if identification documents needed to be presented in person later? After taking 10 minutes to type in nothing more than a name, an address, a birth date, a passport number and the names of two parents, the clerk disappeared and returned with a printout. Whew, that was close. I thought someone might get the idea to place a laser printer (small, quiet and fast these days) on her desk where it might be easily reached.
After the guard’s friendly greeting, it was time for more trust, dignity and respect from our government. ‘Read and confirm all that under penalty of perjury. If you attempt to falsify information or defraud Social Security you can be prosecuted in federal court.’ It just makes you swell with red, white and blue patriotic pride, doesn’t it?
They say Americans don’t do irony but any sane person interacting with the US Government will develop the ability rather quickly. The irony of most of us being forced into a system at or near birth without having a say in the decision. The irony of being threatened while attempting to voluntarily comply with the system. The irony of converting electronic data to paper only to watch it converted back to electronic data. The irony of someone 'disabled' enough to require a responsible party but magically able to shed the disability on command in order to change the mailing address of the check when the responsible party turns irresponsible. The irony of a system that functions by confiscating a productive individual’s income before it ever reaches that individual only to have it lavished upon the likes of Bipolar Bill and AC/DC Man: able-bodied but made feeble-minded by drunkenness, sloth, ignorance, low expectation, and a government quite eager to perpetuate this dysfunctional symbiosis in order to amass votes and power.
The final irony: I already have a perfectly good Social Security card. I’ve held onto the same one since I first received it and it features the fourth-grade cursive version of my signature. To protect it (i.e. to comply) I once had it laminated. But the state DMV refuses to accept a laminated card, no doubt because it might require them to scan or photocopy it more than once in order to obtain an image. And so I had to comply in order to comply.
Thank you. For a REALLY well written account, but more, for making me laugh in spite of the sad state of affairs in our beloved nation. They say the sense of humor is the last thing to go... Lord, I hope so.
May God bless you and yours FRiend.
Tatt
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