THE RETURN TO THE SOCIAL SECURITY OFFICE

For those of you who've been following along...you know that in an April blog , I wrote about a visit to the Social Security Office. Today, I had an opportunity for a return visit. It wasn't AS BAD this time...because I walked away with what I went in there for...but it WAS another adventure.

Just like my prior visit...I walked in the front door...punched a screen on the computer and out popped my 'number'....110. No sooner had it printed...that I heard...'number 93'.

Oh...this could be a loooooonnng visit. But I was determined to get this project scratched off my 'to do' list.

Just like before...a 'soap' was on the in-house TV...followed shortly by Dr. Phil...and I still HATE both of them. I wonder if they both get a government rebate if their shows play on 'SS' network?

Anyway...I kept myself distracted so as to not think of all the numbers to go before 110 was announced...and Dr. Stinkin' Phil was over.

I was amazed at all the younger people in the waiting room. 20-somethings. Quite a bit overweight...but still young. Are they here filing for disability...because they're overweight? Oh please..!!

But I digress...they are nearing triple digits and finally...100 is called. At least they're getting in the neighborhood.

I get my papers in order...as I hear the people behind the desk ask every person...'I need your number slip and your ID'. So I have my papers all ready...my number slip...my ID...Mason's ID...Mason's birth certificate...the court document for custody...the application form I filled out in advance. I am ready.

Number 111...!!!

111??? Hey...I think you missed me...I have 110. Was I so busy getting everything in order that I missed it...or did you skip me? I swear they skipped me...but I couldn't make a big scene...I mean after all...they COULD make me draw another number...and listen to another half hour of Dr. Stinkin' Phil and who knows what's on after that?

The kind man who had number 111 backed away from the window and said, 'you go ahead'. I thanked him profusely...for saving me from jail time for making a scene. He was real nice...gave me a guilt trip AND an anger trip for him being so nice...and them for skipping me.

But I'm to the window, handing over every ID as it's asked...every paper he needs...I give it to him...'do you have the ap'....I hand the application to him before he can even finish the sentence. He thanks me for coming prepared...prints off my receipt that I've been there and says I'll be getting the replacement card in a week. If I still don't have it in 2 weeks...give him a call.

If I don't have it in 2 weeks...I AIN'T going back. I'll just shoot myself.


Dan