Spent a big part of yesterday here:
The reason was classical "DMV 101"; the Social Security Administration had somehow input the wrong birthdate in my daughter's SS data and as you know if you've ever dealt with...well, any bureaucracy anywhere, your birthdate is part of the golden ticket to get anything done.
The problem came to light when I contacted the SSA to arrange one of the oddest pieces of federal largess (and let's not forget that I worked for these rascals a loooooong time, so my N is pretty large for "odd pieces of federal largess") I've ever come across.
I started my retirement benefit application last month, and it turns out that if 1) you're receiving Social Security and 2) you have a minor kid who is either a) younger than 18, or b) still in high school, said kiddo gets some cash from her Uncle Sugar, too.
While I talking to the nice SSA person about that I insisted that her birthdate is X/XX/XX, and the SSA person said, no, it's X/YY/XX. And I looked at the paperwork in my hand and, when we agreed that we disagreed, committed to showing up with said daughter in tow to fix the problem.
So off we went, paid for parking, and entered into the maw of the SSA.
As someone who (see above) has spent a fair amount of time sitting in various US government facilities I have to give the SSA people their due.
The place was clean and well-maintained. The rent-a-cops running the security screening were professional and polite. And the process was orderly enough, given the wild quiltwork of humanity it had to deal with.
THAT was a real novelty to the kiddo. She's not sheltered, and I think she gets that there's a lot more to city life than our little patch of North Portland. But to spend several hours in the Greyhound-station confines of the downtown SSA waiting room?
That brought those things pretty close.
Was it the dude having some sort of loudly prolonged attack of some sort of scary-sounding respiratory problem in the men's can? The family with multiple crying infants? The frankly-scary-looking dude with more metal in his clothing that I have in my legs?
No, I think it was the elderly lady who had a long, heart-rending breakdown at Window #2 because her landlord (I think) was demanding her Social Security card and she'd tried repeatedly to have one mailed to her but hadn't received it.
She was very forcefully desperate, the unseen bureaucrat behind the glass was subvocally unable to help her, and all this drama played out in front of The Girl, who is very tightly buttoned about drama in general (and especially for a Theater Kid, which is one of her personas...). I think she was a bit shaken about someone's hardships being played out right in front of her.
Plus the guy with the dog...well, you get the idea.
We finally got called to Window #2 nearly at the end of the day, laid out our documentation, got the birthdate corrected with little or no palaver, and celebrated with a stop at St. Honore for a pastry treat. Bureaucracy, hurrah!
Now I just need to go pick up the p-work from her high school.
But before I go I think it's worth noting this...
But the notion that the "country cannot be saved" unless We the People return to the pre-New Deal era of widespread common poverty and aristocratic plutocracy seems to have become one of the few actual "policies" of these people.
Which, BTW, is why I applied for these Social Security benefits now rather than waiting until 70 when the real fat paycheck comes due.
I don't trust these bloated hyenas not to pull this fast one when they and their Orange King get their dickbeaters on the levers of power.
I want to - as best I can - lock in the paycheck I can get, not the bigger one that relies on the social engineering skills of the MAGAt Horde.
I know I keep beating this drum, but if the American Experiment has ANY value at all, it's as a test case for the promise of the Republic to be for all of "We the People" and not - as designed by the Framers - for "the rich, the well-born, and the able".
That promise is a hell of a big ask.
It relies on We the People to be true citizens, to work hard to understand our government, even down to the guy behind Window #2, and make informed, intelligent decisions about how that government works.
To not fall for the "conservative" bullshit about "government is the problem". To make that government work for Our best interests, not those of the wealthy, or the corporate "persons", or the various power-brokers and lobbyists for this and that.
One of the reasons those Framers wanted to restrict the franchise was because they doubted the ability of the mass of the People to do those things.
I can't help but wonder.
But for now, well, the pastries were good. And the Girl gets some college money.
Now you'll excuse me, but the goddamn drywall guy is supposed to be here and I need to let him in or we'll be another day behind schedule.
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