Thursday, May 20, 2010

THE BMV...NEED I SAY MORE?

Some weeks ago, I made a trip to the Social Security Office. Check my blog of that day if you need a recap. In it, I mentioned I would need to be making a trip to the BMV. Today...I did it.

The purpose for the trip to the BMV is to get Mason a 'state issued' photo ID. He needs that, to complete the documentation to get him a replacement social security card.

Our state now has a new program through the BMV called 'Secure ID'. We will ALL need to someday have one, but I don't yet. In getting Mason set up to get his photo ID I had to have...his birth certificate...and his social security card...[which I didn't have because this is where this whole issue started]. As a substitute, they took the notarized paper from the Social Security Office that Mason has an SS number, just not a card.

For 'me' to get the process started, I needed 'my' birth certificate...my social security card...2 bill statements proving address and my drivers licence.

I handed the lady at the desk, all the above. She said since I was 'paying' to get Mason's Secure ID, I would get a 'free' one for me, since I had all the proper documents.

Free.

I should have known things were going to go downhill from there...and they did.

After photocopying everything, and taking my picture for my new card, she began to enter all the data in the computer. Everything has to match...exactly...as she later would tell me. She looked...and looked...stepped away to talk to a few ladies on the other end of the room...and came back and said..."did you know your birth certificate has your name misspelled?"

Duh...no. Sure enough she shows it to me. My last name has been typed CALRK. I show her that on the line beneath it...is my parents name...spelled correctly. That doesn't matter...it 'doesn't match EXACTLY'.

She goes off to check with a few more ladies. Later she comes back and says, "do you have your passport with you?" As a matter of fact, I did. She says "we're in luck", we will use 'that' instead of your birth certificate. Then she says, with a perplexed look, that the 'passport people' gave me my passport after having had to look at that same birth certificate with the misspelled last name...but alas...she's gonna take it anyway.

Whew...we're almost there. But no...the social security card I gave her is not 'the social security card'. It is the stub that the social security card was attached to. It has my name...AND my number...but it is not 'THE' card. [I have no idea where the real card is. Probably still in the wallet I had when I was 17...wherever that is.]

So after all of that...I'm denied my Secure ID.

Fortunately...we got Masons...which is why we went there to begin with. Now I can take his ID and paperwork to the Social Security Office and get his replacement social security card.

And while I'm there...I guess I'll apply for 'my' replacement card too. I sure hope they don't ask for my birth certificate as a document of proof for who I am.

Then...if and when I'm lucky enough to get my replacement social security card...I guess I'll begin the process of getting hold of the Gibson County Clerk...and seeing if I can get a new birth certificate.

Things just can't be simple I guess.


Dan

2 comments:

  1. Oh shit. You can't get a birth certificate from the Gibson County Clerk (better talk to Diane). The last time I got a birth certificate, I had to get it from a company in Tennessee. Have you ever read a Franz Kafka book, "The Castle?" Ha. It's about a salesman who can't leave a town for his home "until all his g.d. paperwork is done." He never leaves. Ha.

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  2. Ha!
    Since we are telling horror stories...
    About 10 years ago I got a letter from the IRS challenging my existence.
    I followed the bunny trail for days and finally discovered that when I added 'Landis' to my official name some clerk somewhere typed 'Oakland, Calif' instead of 'Oakland City, Indiana' - it took over a year and countless hours to straighten that one out.
    Results: I am who I think I am.
    Nobody refunded any of the taxes I paid for the years I wasn't me.

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