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I don't spend a lot of time in government offices. I rarely have occasion to go to them. On Tuesday, though, I had the need for a replacement Social Security card for a loan I'm applying for. It seems that the Homeland Security folks now insist that banks see an actual Social Security card these days. Something about the Patriot Act, they said. Like a lot of old geezers, I lost my original card decades ago, and have never needed it. I do know the number, since I've entered it on hundreds of forms.
I know that I'll have to show a real Social Security card next year when my driver's license is renewed, along with a birth certificate, thanks to the same Act and DHS rules. Oh, well. So, I'd have had to do this anyhow.
In the Twin Cities, MN, you have to go to a standalone Social Security card center to do this. The main SS office is in Saint Paul, where I live, but the card center is in a hard-to-get-to neighborhood in Minneapolis. Minneapolis is weird when it comes to driving around, and this office location is in one of the most difficult parts of town to get to, since it's on the other side of three freeways from downtown Minneapolis. Never mind, though. I got there, only getting lost once in the poorly-marked freeway tangle that is Minneapolis.
Walking in the door, the first thing you see is an armed DHS guy at a desk. Why, I do not know. You get a numbered ticket after touching a choice on a touch-screen. There are applications and clipboards, but I had filled mine out on a PDF form on my computer. Fortunately, the guard is friendly and glad to tell you what to do. So, ticket in hand, I entered the waiting area. My number is N-18. As I enter the waiting area, they're calling number N-189. My level of apprehension rises. There are at least a hundred people sitting in the chairs, waiting. Anticipating a very long wait, I chose a seat and wished I had brought my Kindle. The person sitting next to me is reading hers. Oh well. There's a big flat-screen TV on the wall, but it's off. If it were on, it'd probably have Fox News on it, like every other flat screen I've seen lately in a public place. So, I'm glad it was off.
To amuse myself while waiting, I begin looking around the room. What a great assortment of people! Every possible ethnic group is represented. People wearing garb from West Africa, Hmong grandmothers, with their entire extended families. Typical middle-class caucasians. Urban black people. Everyone was there. Typically, most had at least one person accompanying them. Kids were everywhere, running around the room as kids with nothing to do frequently do. People were talking to others who were seated near them - talking about the weather and why they were there today, and how lousy the Twins are this season.
The other thing people were doing was listening. "N-177, Window 13!" the PA system said. Window 13 was in a row of cubicles, each with two chairs and someone behind a counter handling whatever request people had. There were 16 windows, and all of them seemed to be staffed. When the number was called, someone stood up, along with whomever was with them, and walked to the window. People came and went constantly from those windows, each with some reason. Some were applying for an original card. Others were getting a SS card for the baby they were carrying in a car seat. Some, like me, needed a replacement card.
I discovered that the numbers restarted after 200, so I started listening. Finally, after waiting about an hour, I heard "N-18, Window 8," so up I got and walked to the window. There, a young guy in his 30s, with a smile on his face and a keyboard and monitor in front of him, took my application and driver's license, asked me a couple of questions, then handed me a printout to check. Turns out my mother's maiden name was misspelled. So I mentioned that. The guy shrugged and said, "That's how it is in the records." Then he looked, and saw that I had a copy of my birth certificate. "Hey...if that's your birth certificate, I can correct the record." So I handed it to him and he did just that. That's it. No fee. No hassle. I was in and out in less than five minutes. The replacement card will arrive in a couple of weeks. I left, and drove home.
Here's the remarkable thing: Everyone in the room was patient, quiet, and almost all were smiling as they emerged from the hall with the 16 windows. No raised voices. No angry conversation. No frustrated looks or voices. The process just ran smoothly. As I walked back from my window, I glanced at the other windows I walked by. Each had someone on the other side of the desk who looked friendly. All day long, these workers are asking the same questions, solving the minor issues that arise, and dealing with their job. They appeared to be as patient and unflustered as everyone I saw that morning.
Nobody had to pay anything. Everyone needed something having to do with a Social Security card. It was just a well-run thing. A bureaucratic government office, but with no reason for anyone to be frustrated or upset. Just folks getting business done with someone from the government, and getting it done efficiently and by someone with a smile on his or her face.
Cool beans, in my opinion. Yeah, it took an hour of waiting, and almost an hour of driving time, given the congestion from freeway projects, but I got the thing done, paid nothing for it, and got my confidence in federal bureaucracy reconfirmed. It all just worked.
My point? Nothing, really. It's just something I don't do regularly, and I'm glad it was no real hassle.
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