I’m beginning to feel more and more curmudgeony the further I venture down the American tradition of marriage and assuming a new identity. Today’s adventure is courtesy of the Social Security department of perpetual impatient rudeness. I know it’s a really monotonous job and dealing with the public can be very painful. I understand having a bad day and don’t expect miles of smiles and grace with every human encounter. I don’t care about any of that. I only care that when my number is called that I’m given half a chance to get to the window or door from which it’s being called. I was in the back of the room, but I’m not that slow. I knew my number was next because I can fuckin’ count despite being a product of public education.
I dreaded going to the department incapable of moving faster than frozen molasses with a toddler, but Sophia did great. I was armed with a sippy cup of milk and her current favorite snack “cheee”, string cheese. Sophia was superb at entertaining herself crawling under my chair with her “chee” and a pink pen with the cap on. I kept hearing people comment on how cute she was and looking at me smiling. It felt great having a good kid, but I worried about how long this might last.
The social security office has five windows and runs three sets of numbers; I assume the number set obtained from the computer depends on the reason for one’s visit. I was number B164. The number on the screen was B163. Awesome, it should take too long.
One man at the front of the room went up to the security officer to ask a question about his number. Apparently he didn’t hear when his number was called two numbers ago. The officer told him that they always call the numbers three times. He lies. He then directed the man to inquire at one of the windows behind me at the back of the room which was not serving a person at the time.
I kept watching the window with the sign that read, “Social Security Cards” over it on the opposite side of the room from me. I was sure that’s where my number would be called from. I didn’t see when the number changed on the sign but I did hear my number called once from a door in the front of the room. I stood up with my things and reached for Sophia. I looked up again and the door was closing behind someone else. What the fuck? I waited assuming the person just had to grab something and would be back shortly. I sat back down. I waited two full minutes.
Not wanting to be skipped I went to the window behind me where a lady sat working on papers but without a customer. I told her my number was on the screen and it was called from the door but that it closed before I could get to it. “Oh don’t worry they’ll call your number when they’re ready” she told me.
“They did call the number from the door, but someone else went back there.” I didn’t actually know if it was another person or the person that called the number who I saw as the door closed. All I know is that it closed before I even left my seat.
“Really? How odd.” She said, “Well I’ll put your number on the list and they’ll call you. I just need to finish my applications first.” She said the last part as if I was being unreasonably impatient or rude.
Minutes later I was called to the window I assumed would be calling me in the first place. Sophia followed me and several, “Aaww, isn’t she cute?” “She’s so cute.” Statements could be heard. I sat down and Sophia tried to climb up on the chair next to me but could because there wasn’t a bar across the legs to help boost her up, so I gave her a lift. She sat quietly next to me for the next ten minutes while my papers were processed.
As I was leaving the lady behind the door appeared again. She called out, “A70”. There was a brief pause. “A71” she said. I looked at the board and it had changed from 70 to 71 and then 72 after another brief pause. This room isn’t that big. I’m not very good at guessing room sizes, but it’s maybe thirty by thirty feet. There are about 72 chairs (6 rows of 12) in the room with a path around them all and a path down the middle of the chairs. The woman wasn’t giving anyone a chance. As I walked out, I heard two people say, “Hey they skipped my number.”
Sophia held my hand all the way down the stairs and across the parking lot to the truck. I had her let go so I could unlock the truck and she took off. OHGOD! Like most parking lots this one was filled with crazy drivers not paying any attention and in very close proximity to a very heavily traveled street. I chased her down. She thought mommy was playing games and took off faster until she tripped and hit her forehead on the pavement. This is her first road rash goose egg, and oh what a goose egg. The bruise she has under her eye from trying to climb up a slide is finally going away and she had to get yet another bruise. *sigh*
Poor Baby….
Road Rash is NOT fun! Take it from a Biker…..:P
G-Man – Yeah good thing is wasn’t a high speed road rash.
Kurt rides too, but his ride is a BMW. He also has a Ducati for track days. He doesn’t race he just goes to open it up and let the bike do what he feels safe doing on it. 
Can you say “Unicorn Girl”? Don’t worry. You will get used to it. And we know that it doesn’t cause permanent damage. Case in point, her father, the original “Unicorn Boy”.
Gramma Claudia – hahaha yeah nothing permanent. She does put her hands out though, so she’s a step ahead of her dad. She just fell too hard to catch herself.