My Trip to the Social Security Office

I headed over to the Social Security Office this morning. I needed to get a duplicate card, as I had misplaced mine years ago, and I will need one for my new job. (You can only search the basement for so long before you give up and consider the card long gone!) Anyhow, I had previously made one attempt to go to the Social Security Office, but the wait was well over one hour long, and I was on my lunch break, so I decided to reschedule.

I planned to arrive at 9 am (this is when the office opens up). I did not make it until 9:10am. I was handed a number (#60) and told to be seated. They were on number 50. I only had to wait for thirty minutes. Once I made it to the counter, I was out of there within less than three minutes total! Hoorah!

Now, if you have never been to the Social Security Office, you are really missing out on a show! The typical wait time is at least one hour. There is a policeman who assists in checking you in, and he hands you your number. There are two individuals working the counter. The printer is very loud and squeaky. All of the other employees are behind this mysterious wall, doing who knows what.

Some people are there because they want their benefits. A few foreigners are there to apply for a card, and then some others are there like me, or after people have passed away.

One woman in particular was there for a financial matter. I think she may have been at the incorrect government office, but she did not realize that. For whatever reason, she opted NOT to wear her false teeth. This was highly noticeable once she became argumentative. She was going on and on about Champaign Township. The clerk behind the desk kept telling her that the papers she wanted did not exist. It never “sunk in!” The lady repeated...“ I want my hunnred an’ fify dolla!” “ I want my hunnred an’ fify dolla!” She went on and on. “I want my hunnred an’ fify dolla!” Finally, the clerk announced to the policeman that the interview was over. The policeman then went over and said, “We have done everything for you. Let’s head to the door.” Well, that lady got up in the policeman’s face and told him that HE needed to tell the county that she needed her money back! “I want my hunnred an’ fify dolla!” He took her to the door, and you could still hear her yelling outside! “I want my hunnred an’ fify dolla!” “I want my hunnred an’ fify dolla!” Whew!

I am wondering to myself, do all of the “crazies” show up mid-week, or what?