One Fine Day

Last week, during a period of apparent oxygen deprivation in my brain, I decided to lump a trip to the Social Security office and the DMV together. How odd that I would want to spend an afternoon banging my head against the wall. The worst part is I was totally taken off guard by the suckyness. I obliviously made these plans without a thought except ‘hooray! Two things to tick off my list.’

As I turned the corner through the automatic door into the SS office mob scene, I was overwhelmed by sheer shock, then understanding, then annoyance...in like a half second. I grabbed a number “A30” just as the intercom announced “Q6” and sat down just as one of the only two open windows (of the seven) shut. It was one of those metal garage door-like shutters so it made an awful noise as it came down. The guy in front of me chuckled. I did this squinty-eyed, frowny thing like when you’ve eaten something you wish you hadn’t.

So about 45 minutes into it, the guy next to me is snoring (I’m not kidding) and for every number that is called, there is an ecstatic person jumping up like they just won the lottery and then running over to the window as if there were an expiration on their time. It was bad, but really the security guard had it way worse. His job is to do everyday what we dread AND his number never...gets...called. I’m depressed for him.

Fast forward to the DMV and it’s more of the same: the most unlikely people to be in one place in one place. Since I had some time, I made some waiting room observations. Ready? People that don’t know each other don’t like to sit next to each other. It’s very deep. When I plopped down in the first open chair I saw I must have upset the delicate balance of people space because the woman next to me got up and moved over a seat. You’re thinking there could be other excuses like “Well you not the most consistent showerer Diana” or “Sometimes your ‘neutral’ face looks like a ‘bitchy’ face” but I assure you these factors were not in play since there was a photo involved in my task for being there.

Next, everyone knows who is next. The system at this particular DMV had a yellow pad where you sign your name and they cross it off as you are called. No matter. You know who was there before you and who came in after. You can see it in people’s eyes with every name called and in the little whispers “I should be next” in the background. Americans are very good at queuing. We are obedient to the law of lines because if anyone disregards the structure, you will be mean-mugged and potentially ridiculed out loud. No one wants that shame.

Last, either people dress strange for errands to government offices or we as a public are not very refined. One huge (read: fat) man with flannel pants and a shirt that read, “Winners train, losers complain” provided almost enough distraction from the girl with the unspeakably dirty bunny slippers.

Four hours after leaving home I was on my way back with nothing but a stamped piece of paper saying that I applied for a replacement Social Security card. I would say that the afternoon was mostly a failure. No New Mexico license, no driving record, no hard Social Security card and this mediocre blog post. I hope it’s at least a little more enjoyable than waiting.

D. Riggs

Small thing: When I remember what I was going to say: “What was I going to say?...(...)Oh YEAH.”