Numerical Representation of my Soul

What am I talking about?  Numerical representation of my soul?  Yep, Social Security number.  That 9 digit number that is handed to you the day you are born.  They tell you to keep it safe, don’t give it out to anyone.  Yet, when it is time to sign up for school, go to work, get a car, buy a house, or anything that includes your name in a system it’s time to trust that number in the hands of the person paid to take it.  Once you are in your late 20’s  you soul is scattered in little bits, collecting dust in several databases that have required you to give up your social in order to live.

Then, one day you wake up to find that one of those databases have been hacked into.  Now some stranger has a hold of that piece of your soul and they plan to tear it into even more pieces and spread it around even more.  They steal your identity and damage your soul.  Before long all that hard work at protecting this number, this part of your soul, your life is ruined because someone was smarter than a database and they have no morals.

No, I did not have my identity stolen.  It’s not that serious, but it annoys me at how easily we are expected to give out our social security number.

Yesterday I had to do some paper work for my new job.  I had to bring in an ID and my social security card.  I went digging through my wallet before I left my house, to make sure I had switched over my social security card.  Sadly, it wasn’t there.  I looked in my old wallet and everything else that this stupid card could have been hiding in.  It was no where to be found.  I panicked for a moment and almost dropped to the floor shouting “God, why me?”  It wasn’t that serious, but I was frustrated.  I am allowed to have a moment of despair.

My wonderfully awesome mom came to the rescue.  She found out where I needed to go to get a new card and all the forms I needed to fill out.  Thanks Mom!  I think I would be a useless lump with out my mom.

I grab my paper work, fill it out and rush to the social security office.

The office closes at 3pm so I am trying to get there with plenty of time to get in the door.  I passed it the first time I went by it.  It was surrounded by trees and my GPS didn’t help too much.  GPS told me to turn to the right, over the sidewalk and into the woods.  Dear GPS, I don’t know if anyone told you this, but that is a bit illegal.

I finally find the place and pull in to look for a parking spot.  Now, any kind of government run facility is going to need a lot of parking.  A lot of people are in and out all day and we are going to get cranky while waiting, so give me a parking spot!  There were none!  I ended up having to park on the side of the building, a place that wasn’t technically a parking spot.  I got out of my car with a little prayer that I wouldn’t come back out with a ticket in my window for illegal parking.

Whew! In the building at last.  But I have no idea where to go.  I ask the lady standing at the door and she rudely points to the machine I must log into.  What happened to human interaction in this world??

Social Security office

I find a seat, which amazes me because there are so many people standing up.  Why are you standing up when there is a perfectly good seat to sit in?  Excuse me while I sit in this plagued chair that you are just staring at.

A few minutes pass and an older lady sits beside me and instantly starts chatting.  Yay! Someone to talk to.  Except, I am rather shy so I have a moment of anxiety, then realize, it’s just a sweet old lady wanting to chat.  So, I swallow my shyness and my anxiety and talk to the lady.

I found out the lady was there for her social security card too because hers was stolen in an armed robbery.  WHAT?? I felt sorry for the lady.  She was just minding her own business when this jerk comes up and steals her entire life.  Her ID, social, checkbook, and her phone.  In her phone were pictures of her grandbabies that she was so proud of.  Ugh people! Why must you make it so hard for people to live a happy life?

Almost 40 minutes have passed and I am starting to see the office getting a little less packed.  I watch the numbers go up on the screen and wish I was next.  I thought about that part of Beetlejuice, at the end where he is sitting in the office.  He steals the voodoo guys number so he can be next.  At first I thought what an awesome idea that would be, but then I remembered the voodoo guy shrinking Beetlejuice’s head.  I like my head just the way it is, thank you.

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About 50 minutes into this whole thing I am finally called back.  YAY!! I won the lottery…no, wait…I just get to go to a window for a new social security card.  Oh, it feels the same!  My butt was numb from sitting and I had run out of things to talk about with the old lady, and the other lady sitting on my other side.

I go to the window, talk to the guy for about 2 minutes and I am out.

Wait…what?

2 minutes?

That was it?  I had to wait almost an hour just to get you to spend 2 minutes ordering me a new card?

In the end I got a piece of paper to give to my new employer stating that yes, this is my social security number.

The moral of the story, never lose your social security card!

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