My Sugar Daddy

My Sugar Daddy
January 8, 2008

I finally got my alternate proof of age with the receipt of my baptismal certificate from the Philippines. When I first requested my birth certificate from the Philippines National Statistics Office, the Office of the Civil Registrar sent me an official document verifying that they have no record of birth of one Fiameta Rosa Ricafort Vargas. It took 6 months of back and forth transaction through a local representative before I can get proof that I do exist and that I was born on such and such date. That’s the only way my Sugar Daddy, Uncle Sam, will acknowledge me and my entitlement to lifetime support and dole out my social security retirement payments and qualify me for medical care through Medicare.

Since it took 6 months to submit documentation and Social Security only keeps an application open for 60 days, I was instructed to file a new application and show documentation in my nearest SS office, which is behind South DeKalb Mall, by the Post Office, near my work. So I hied ho to the site thinking I’ll be there for an hour, and I can return to work in a jiff. I confronted a mob scene, with all 36 chairs occupied in the small waiting chamber, and the rest of the multitude spilling out into the hallway and sitting or spread out on the floor. The lone person you can talk to is a policewoman stationed in a guard cubicle by the door, who is selectively mute when you approach, and merely points you to a counter marked, Take a Ticket. You press keys on a machine depending on what your business is with the SS office and it spits out the number. I was O638. The
office staff is behind glass windows which you cannot approach without the proper number. They were calling D237 on my arrival. There was no way to determine when you will be served. There was a young woman with her 2 elementary aged children who was there to change her name because she just got married, and she wanted to know if she can just leave her papers, and she was curtly told by the policewoman that she’d have to take a number to get her question answered. Another woman politely explained that she was there earlier and now she’s back with the documents needed and she only wanted to hand them to the staff who served her, and could she leave them, and she was told to take a number. She protested and the policewoman hushed her, which ignited the lady, and so she raised her voice and told the policewoman she has no right to talk to her like that, and that she was supposed to be of service to her and instead she’s just rude and unhelpful, etc. The room erupted in applause with murmurs of Hear! Hear! and Yeah, Amen. The policewoman was unmoved and the lady left in disgust, angry and spewing fire. I asked a lady near me and she said she’d been waiting there for 3 hours! I was determined to not leave empty-handed, figuring it would be just as crowded if I returned on another day, so I stayed put. My work kept calling me, and the policewoman in the cubicle glared at me and sent me out because talking on cellphones is not allowed. I managed to get a seat, but at 3:30 PM, the policewoman called everybody waiting outside to get in because she was closing the doors and the SS office is no longer admitting new customers. There were over 60 people crammed into that waiting area designed for 36, and there was no circulating air after she closed the doors. The customers are all African-Americans except a family who looked like they came from a Mideastern country, the Caucasian young woman with the children, a Hispanic woman, and myself. I felt strange, like I was in another country. I felt closed in for the men were huge and obese, many are limping, or swinging on crutches, there were several on motorized wheelchairs. There were many disabled children on wheelchairs or looking like they have congenital anomalies. The women similarly were obese, panting for breath, and their smell just filled the room. There was a group of young women in tight blue jeans and exposed cleavage, smacking gum and giggling, and I wondered what they’re doing there. I was thinking, most of these people are probably there to file for disability claims or SSI, and will get more out of SS than what they put in.
When my turn finally came after 2 hours, I was told that this contact was for screening purposes only, and I will have to wait until my name is called so a staff can take my application. I was suffocating in that room when my name was called at 4 PM, and I was told to go to window #7, in the back. Fortunately the young African-American staff who served me was very accommodating. I was there to reapply for Medicare part A only, since I’m still working full time and couldn’t apply for retirement benefits without being penalized, however I asked whether I can kill 2 birds with one stone since transacting business with them seems to be characterized by long waits. She said early application is only accepted 4 months before actual date of retirement and I will meet that requirement in February, but she will take my application now, and file it and activate it in February, if i don’t mind waiting for Medicare at the same time too, because she can do both together, but not one first and the other to follow. Oh brother, that’s government red tape for you. She informed me that I paid the maximum into SS since 1973, and I will get top benefits and quoted a sum just on the upside of $2K per month. I was grateful that she was well-informed about their procedures to be able to accommodate my request, and so my application is filed and ready to go in February.
Wow, I was thinking, how rich I will be, my Sugar Daddy!