Bureaucracy VS the Princess

Yesterday was a horrible day that ended on a better note than the one on which it began. Today has started out not so much better, what with my computer freezing and eating my entire post for this morning, without saving it.

Hateful, hateful computer.

But back to yesterday. I began the day by gathering our temporary marriage license, my driver’s license, my passport, my completed form ZQ6749w7/b, my book, (which IS a bit self-righteous, but the author does have a good voice and is entertaining, despite using more unnecessary metaphors than there are stars in the sky) and my (now working!) iPod, and headed off to the Social Security office to begin the name change process.

At 9:15 AM, I walked in and got a ticket, marked, “#S155, Estimated wait time 60 minutes” and looked around in the dim fluorescent lighting and chose a hard plastic chair next to a seemingly sleeping homeless guy, and crancked up my iPod to listen to the Hos in Different Area Codes.

Around 10:15 I pulled out my earplugs to start listening for the numbers being called. “E24, E24, please approach the counter.”

E24?!?!?! WTF? I have S155!

I went back to my book, but kept an ear out for the next call.

Ten minutes later, “E25, ticket E25, please come to the desk.”

Are you kidding me?

At 11:00 I heard them call G240. It was then that I realized that the Social Security office was working on a system more complex than any traditional alpha-numeric organization than I had ever seen. I began pondering, how far after E25 and G240 do you suppose S155 falls?

My answer finally came AT NOON, when I finally heard, “S154, please come to the desk.”

Hooray! Surely, I must be next!

But sadly, G248 was next.

I eventually heard my number at 12:15. I bolted to the counter, undeterred, grinning wildly, “Hi! I’m here to become Mrs. Funasaurus! Would you like to see my driver’s license? How about my passport?” I said gaily, shoving my pile of documents under the counter.

“Not yet, m’am,” said the drone, and she glared at me until I retrieved them. “Social Security number?” she asked.

I gave it to her, and then waited for what felt like ten minutes as she typed it in. I’m quite sure I only gave her nine digits, but wow, either she had to enter it four hundred times, or she dashed off a quick note to her drone husband debating the democratic system.

“Marriage license,” she finally asked.

I passed it through the window.

“No, the official one.”

“But? This IS the official one,” I said, waving the temporary one. “See, it has our signatures, our pastor’s signature, the time, date…” She just looked at me. “I was told this one functioned exactly the same as the permanent one,” I continued.

“No, I need the one that was issued by the state.

"The state gave me THIS ONE."

"Sorry. S156? S156, please approach the window."

"But, but, but... three hours!... Missing work?" I peeped.

S156 pushed me out of the way.

I was... Not Happy. Nay, I was downright disgruntled. I called The Funasaurus to explain that I would have to take more time off of work (time that I don't technically have) and do it all again. With the "official" marriage license. And then I got my shit together and as professionally and collected as possible, I sobbed like a blubbering idiot because that was a miserable fucking waste of three hours of my life that I will never get back.

Fortunately, that night, we went up to my parents' house to see some wedding pictures they had gotten, and we were greeted at the door with enormous glasses of wine, and so my night ended with ice cream and extra cabernet, and so life is not all bad.

But Social Security? I've got my eye on you.