Poor Stella has now officially had her first dealing with the insanity of government bureaucracy. When she was born, the hospital assured us that they would put through all necessary paperwork to apply for her social security number. Great! And as we received her birth certificate in 4-6 weeks as promised, I figured all was right with the world.
Until the dryer started screaming. At that point, it occurred to me that we needed to file our taxes, pronto, allowing for the purchase of a new appliance which is absolutely more necessary now than ever before (baby laundry!!). And, hey!, we get to claim the kid this year! Hurray for deductions!! So, I began assembling all required items to file: W2s, interest statements, Turbo Tax, etc… I then realized that we had not received the baby’s social. I did some digging online and while the estimates were far-ranging, it did seem as if we should have gotten this information by now. I also read that we couldn’t really file without it (well, we could, but then we’d have to file an amended return later and who the hell wants to deal with this shit twice in one year???).
So, Stella and I were off to the dreaded Social Security office. I honestly thought she’d be spared this kind of thing until she started driving. I had with us her birth certificate and some insurance documents which indicated that she’s been seeing her pediatrician regularly (I had read where they needed some kind of evidence that the baby was not only born alive, but continued to live). After all, Stella doesn’t yet have a student ID or a Sam’s card. We took a number. We sat with the dregs of society. The Missing Link was sitting next to us. Luckily, Stella was oblivious . I, however, had nightmares of antibiotic-resistant TB every time I heard someone’s hacking cough.
Sure enough, we couldn’t get her card. While the birth certificate was fine, it turns out they’d rather see her hearing test from the day after she was born (WTF??) as another accepted “official” form of identification. Never underestimate the power of the tympanic membrane, I guess. So, I have to go back. This time, I’m leaving her at home. I shall not subject her to that kind of shite again at such a tender age. Of course, the mean lady at the counter said it’d take 4-6 weeks to get the card. So, all of you out there do the happy dryer dance for us.