Early morning at the Social Security Office and I was #3 with a seat on that bench next to a lovely Indian couple in need of SS cards. Now of course, I have a SS number. My parents proudly applied for mine when they opened my first back account on the day I was born, and I’ve known my number by heart since my college days when it first became my ID and then, as I matured into adulthood, made its way into my credit card information.
But I’ve lost track of my card and in this post 9/11 world, state and federal positions demand official ID, even for reapplication, You need your social security card. so okay, I found their headquarters yesterday, conveniently close to home and but by 10:30am the waiting rooms was packed with applicants, and the experienced officer in charge shared his expertise:
Come back tomorrow. Get here early, before the office opens at 8:30, to secure a good position.
The four of us were in at 8:45 and I was out by 9:10, with a promise by the official clerk, that my replacement card would arrive by mail in the usual 7-10 days. Perfect!
I was off to the gym with time to kill before my session with Anthony. I had just enough time to chat with my mom. I proudly shared my SS adventure with her and her response:
“Honey, I have your social security card. I have all my kids’ cards.”
“What? No, mom you, I had it.”
“Could be, but then I have copies too.”
“All good mom, backup!”
I didn’t really need any more sleep, right? Why didn’t I ask?
Mom still knows best.