My own little slice of hell...
Those of you that have been reading my blog for a while might remember my visit to the social security office last year. It was a dismal failure. After that experience, I decided to put off going there again as long as possible.
Well, the time finally came for me to go. I have to sign up for tuition assistance with the state of Colorado and I need my new SSN card with my married name on it to do so. So, I did the research… Searched the SSN website to find out exactly what I needed to bring with me. Filled out my paper work ahead of time, brought every piece of I.D. I could find that they asked for. I got up at 0530 this morning, put on my uniform and drove out to Aurora so that I could be the first one in line at 0800 when they start letting people in, and then I’d planned to head straight to work. I was the first in line, had a pleasant chat with the doorman, confident in the knowledge that my trip inside would be brief and successful. Cut to me sobbing in my car at 9:20.
Why you ask? What was so horrible that caused me to have hyperventilating fits of hysteria in the parking lot? First of all, the SSN office is only open from 9-4 (I wish I had those kinds of hours) and people start filing in early and the room fills up fast. So, in the hour before the service windows open, you are forced to share the waiting room with everyone else. This is not like the DMV. It’s worse. The furniture smells of BO so badly. It’s like a bunch of sweaty people just came in and rubs their armpits all over every inch of furniture, carpet and walls. The A/C is broken, so in the record heat of Colorado, I’m sure you can imagine the steaming smell that permeated the room.
So, there in the stinky room I sat, waiting for my turn, reading a very good book (“A Walk In the Woods” by Bill Bryson). People were trickling in… This guy came and sits right next to me. I tried not to notice how close he sat and continued to read. “What are you reading?” he asked loudly. I politely showed him the cover of the book. “A walk in the woods huh? Don’t you spend enough time in the woods? (referring to my woodland camouflage uniform), I politely smiled and continued reading. “So where are you stationed?” he asked. “Buckley” I answered, still not looking up. The barrage of questions that followed are too numerous to list, but they grew progressively more rude and personal.
I quit answering and started texting people on my phone begging for them to call me so that I could ignore him without seeming too rude. As a woman I thought his behavior seemed invasive and creepy, but as a sergeant, I was conscious of everyone watching for my reaction. I have to be very conscious of my actions in public, especially when in uniform. I have found that when people ask impertinent questions (which they always do when they see a uniformed person) It is best to politely decline talking about the military for security reasons. But as soon as you open your mouth, the room around you grows silent and people are waiting to see if you are going to lose your cool.
His questions ( and my trying to ignore him) continued on for about an hour until the service windows finally opened. I was happy to escape his presence and hoped to get my new card and be on my way. I handed over my paperwork and ID to the lady behind the window and smiled expectantly. She started looking through my papers and setting each one to the side saying things like.. “nope. Not hardly, I don’t thinks so… What is this? This wedding certificate doesn’t have your birthday on it, we can’t use it. “ Her attitude was so awful, and I stood in shock for a moment trying to figure out if I’d offended her in some way that would warrant my being treated so badly.
I said, “ I’m sorry but I read the instructions on the SSN website and I even printed them out, I highlighted what it said I needed, and brought what they requested. How have I done wrong?” “ She said, “ well I don’t care what you read, but it’s wrong. You need blah blah blah… then you need to come back here and make sure it’s right this time. ” My frustration level after dealing with the jerk in the waiting room and now her, just reached a boiling point. And as often happens when I am angry about something I cannot control, my eyes started welling up. I gathered up my things and ran down the stairs so no one would see me getting upset. As soon as ran through the front door into the mid-morning sun, the tears started slipping down my cheeks. So much for the stoic military type.
There is no moral to this story really. Except maybe, if you are in a public place and you see a person in uniform, try to remember that they probably don’t want to talk politics, they probably are not acquainted with your sister in law’s cousin who is in the navy, and they probably don’t want to discuss their job or their last tour of duty. They are just people, trying to live their lives like anyone else. And if you see one of them crying outside in the parking lot of the SSN Building, offer them a tissue.
Well, the time finally came for me to go. I have to sign up for tuition assistance with the state of Colorado and I need my new SSN card with my married name on it to do so. So, I did the research… Searched the SSN website to find out exactly what I needed to bring with me. Filled out my paper work ahead of time, brought every piece of I.D. I could find that they asked for. I got up at 0530 this morning, put on my uniform and drove out to Aurora so that I could be the first one in line at 0800 when they start letting people in, and then I’d planned to head straight to work. I was the first in line, had a pleasant chat with the doorman, confident in the knowledge that my trip inside would be brief and successful. Cut to me sobbing in my car at 9:20.
Why you ask? What was so horrible that caused me to have hyperventilating fits of hysteria in the parking lot? First of all, the SSN office is only open from 9-4 (I wish I had those kinds of hours) and people start filing in early and the room fills up fast. So, in the hour before the service windows open, you are forced to share the waiting room with everyone else. This is not like the DMV. It’s worse. The furniture smells of BO so badly. It’s like a bunch of sweaty people just came in and rubs their armpits all over every inch of furniture, carpet and walls. The A/C is broken, so in the record heat of Colorado, I’m sure you can imagine the steaming smell that permeated the room.
So, there in the stinky room I sat, waiting for my turn, reading a very good book (“A Walk In the Woods” by Bill Bryson). People were trickling in… This guy came and sits right next to me. I tried not to notice how close he sat and continued to read. “What are you reading?” he asked loudly. I politely showed him the cover of the book. “A walk in the woods huh? Don’t you spend enough time in the woods? (referring to my woodland camouflage uniform), I politely smiled and continued reading. “So where are you stationed?” he asked. “Buckley” I answered, still not looking up. The barrage of questions that followed are too numerous to list, but they grew progressively more rude and personal.
I quit answering and started texting people on my phone begging for them to call me so that I could ignore him without seeming too rude. As a woman I thought his behavior seemed invasive and creepy, but as a sergeant, I was conscious of everyone watching for my reaction. I have to be very conscious of my actions in public, especially when in uniform. I have found that when people ask impertinent questions (which they always do when they see a uniformed person) It is best to politely decline talking about the military for security reasons. But as soon as you open your mouth, the room around you grows silent and people are waiting to see if you are going to lose your cool.
His questions ( and my trying to ignore him) continued on for about an hour until the service windows finally opened. I was happy to escape his presence and hoped to get my new card and be on my way. I handed over my paperwork and ID to the lady behind the window and smiled expectantly. She started looking through my papers and setting each one to the side saying things like.. “nope. Not hardly, I don’t thinks so… What is this? This wedding certificate doesn’t have your birthday on it, we can’t use it. “ Her attitude was so awful, and I stood in shock for a moment trying to figure out if I’d offended her in some way that would warrant my being treated so badly.
I said, “ I’m sorry but I read the instructions on the SSN website and I even printed them out, I highlighted what it said I needed, and brought what they requested. How have I done wrong?” “ She said, “ well I don’t care what you read, but it’s wrong. You need blah blah blah… then you need to come back here and make sure it’s right this time. ” My frustration level after dealing with the jerk in the waiting room and now her, just reached a boiling point. And as often happens when I am angry about something I cannot control, my eyes started welling up. I gathered up my things and ran down the stairs so no one would see me getting upset. As soon as ran through the front door into the mid-morning sun, the tears started slipping down my cheeks. So much for the stoic military type.
There is no moral to this story really. Except maybe, if you are in a public place and you see a person in uniform, try to remember that they probably don’t want to talk politics, they probably are not acquainted with your sister in law’s cousin who is in the navy, and they probably don’t want to discuss their job or their last tour of duty. They are just people, trying to live their lives like anyone else. And if you see one of them crying outside in the parking lot of the SSN Building, offer them a tissue.
posted by saucybritches at
7/21/2005 11:21:00 AM
3 Comments:
wow. DMV is going to have to step it up if they're to have a prayer of winning the golden WTF award for customer service. Sorry about all that, Erin. If you want, I can find out where she lives... got eggs? ;)
- Brian
I'm so sorry sissy! Those rat bastards! Shows how different we are though, uniform or not, I'd have told the guy to shut his hole. You should have told the lady that everyone in the lobby was signing a petition to get her to take a shower, she was stinking up the whole room. ;) I know, I know, Immature. But it would have made you feel so much better. :) I love you.
I so completely empathize with the frustration you feel. Hang in there. As General Joseph "Vinegar Joe" Stilwell's motto advised: "Illegitimati non carborundum."
Or, if your Latin is rusty, "Don't let the bastards grind you down!"
At the same time, I feel uncomfortable reading the blog of a sergeant.
I mean, I wouldn't give a rat's bee-hind if this was the blog of some crummy lieutenant. But a sergeant?
I'm not worthy.
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