I think it would be fair and rational to have the clerk at the Vital Records department have to have her heart removed from her chest to prove that she has one.
She’s fortunate that she doesn’t live here.
They’d expect her to correct her crotch rather than admit the paperwork could be wrong.
There was a King of the Hill episode about this very thing. Life truly imitates art.
All she had to do was to say she “identifies” as a woman... seems to work for pretty much everything else these days.
The woman at the office was lucky this was not a male marked wrong.
If it had been me I would have shown her on the spot, with no doubts.
You don't "need" one, so don't ask for one.
Just wait for the “Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act” (PPACA), aka Obamacare, when errors like this become FEDERALIZED! Right now we see what problem correction is like when it is just a state matter, now the same bureaucratic infrastructure that creates insane IRS correction letters will inform health care users and providers of what the rules of the day are by Federal Government fiat.
Wonderful customer service is not likely.
Cleavon Little said it best: “’scuse me while I whip this out...”
I can honestly see how this happened.
I didn’t see my birth certificate until I was 17 and applying for my first driver’s license.
Shock of my life - the name my mother had taught me was NOT my legal name. I called her on it and she said that she ‘liked the other spelling better and the nurse wouldn’t let her use it, so I just came close to what I really wanted.’
So ALL of my shot records (became a MAJOR issue when I moved to Germany) and ALL of my school records (became a MAJOR issue when I applied for college) were different than my birth certificate.
To make matters worse, she put down a completely different spelling on my social security card. (I honestly think that it was a matter of bad handwriting on that one.)
I don’t know how the IRS didn’t come down on my entire family for that because I know that she put down her preferred spelling of my name on the tax forms and that it didn’t match either my birth certificate or my social security card.
When I graduated I had to go with my birth certificate and UN-screw three separate, serious documents to put my life together.
To make matters even more insane, my diploma didn’t even have the correct LAST name because she ‘liked’ my step-father better than my birth dad and just put his last name as mine from jr high through high school. Officially, I never went to school after I was eight years old - then I graduated. (Should’ve seen me in the counselor’s office trying to explain that mess the week after graduation.)
No. There never was an official adoption. She just changed it when we moved.
I didn’t even find out that the last name that I’d been going by for almost a decade really wasn’t my last name until I was almost out of high school.
“No... Mom... You can’t just put down whatever you feel like... these are legal documents... It doesn’t matter what you WANT it to be...”
I still don’t know who the hell I am. Sheesh.