My first visit

When the Social Security Office counselor failed to call me as the letter promised at the appointed day and time, I decided that the best course of action was a direct action -- to show up in person at the office to get my medicare monthly fee adjusted for 2016.  It was a learning experience, kind of like a root canal, the process can be painful, but the result could solve the problem.

The sky was pregnant with rain on Monday morning as I drove down to the office.  Luck was with me, I found a parking spot right in front of the building.  Thinking that I could easily and quickly make an appointment with a counselor for a meeting after I returned from vacation, I was frustrated a bit when I accidentally hit the "max" button for a parking pass.  I had paid for two hours, instead of 30 minutes.  "Oh well,"  I said to myself,  "the next guy to take this parking place will have a gift of some free parking."  Little did I know what last lay ahead for me.

I walked into the office at 11 am to find over 40 people waiting in a space designed to accommodate 20.  Like the DMV, I signed in at the computer and was issued a number based on my selection of topic area from the five presented to me.  My number was F512.  Posted on the board the "F" type was at number F502.  I must wait my turn.

In the middle of the mass of humanity, was a young woman who started complaining about the wait she was enduring, raising her voice and swearing so all could hear.  We attempted to ignore her ranting, but it was impossible, as few people can say "mother fucking" in so many ways.  She made her way to the front of the room, continuing her stream of consciousness. The guard at the desk stood,  glared, then abruptly went into the back office.  Five minutes later, a very authoritative woman, tall, a bit heavy set, but muscular, wearing glasses, came to the counter and announced in the voice of a drill sergeant, using a microphone, "If you cannot wait for your number to be called, please leave now.  Profanity is not allowed in this office.  It is Monday and Monday is always busy."  The guard returned, standing at attention at his desk.  The young woman, stood and stamped out.  Everyone in the room, breathed a sign of relieve, returning to a quiet wait.  Lessons learned - do not come to the Social Security Office on a Monday and do not cross the office manager, if you want to have your problem resolved.

The office manager then came out into the waiting room and explained, "We are short handed today so we will get to you, but it will take time."  She answered questions with her strong voice, making everyone understand that she and her staff cared about them and would take care of everyone given some time.   We hunkered down.

Coming to the Social Security Office was a leveling experience.  I was surrounded by people, only a few like my white, middle class self.  Languages proliferated, aged women and men were accompanied by their adult children; students with backpacks were sprinkled among others in work clothes or disabled in wheel chairs.  We all shared one restroom.  We all waited. We were all in the same boat and determined to keep it pleasantly afloat.

As I finished up my third New Yorker magazine article, my number was called.  I didn't need to make an appointment; a counselor processed by request in a matter of minutes.  She was pleasant, helpful and patient as I filled out the required form.  I left the office like many of the others who had waited with me - pleasantly surprised by the staff's kindness and support.  With patience, the government bureaucracy can work.  I returned to my car with 10 minutes to spare.