Red Tape
You cannot do anything in the U.S without a social security number. American babies usually get them as soon as they are born - I wouldn't be surprised if they grow like a birthmark in the womb and come out stamped on their bottoms.
For non-U.S. citizens it is a little more complicated. You have to present yourself to the nearest social security office which we duly did the other day.
Now, if there's one thing the Ameicans like more than shopping or food (or even shopping for food) it's officialdom. Not only is there a form for everything, but each form comes with it's own pack of forms explaining how to fill them in, how long it will take you and who to write to (in triplicate) should you have any complaints about said form.
When you arrive at the social security office you have to take a ticket and sit and wait. I was thrilled when we onlyhad to wait an hour before being called to the clerk's window.
A pleasant enough man, he copied all our info. onto his database with a snail-like ferocity. Name,
address, mother's maiden name. Ok so far.
"So you were born in London," he said. " Which city in London exactly?"
We had passports, visas and forms. So far, so good.
Favourite colour? No problem. Last time we ate a burger? Er. Length of time it took you to unpack your suitcase? Um?
Marriage certificate. Uh Oh!
"But of course we're married. We couldn't get the visa without proof."
"Sorry, we must have the certificate or we cannot begin the process for you madam. You're ok sir, but you...well.."
No social security number means no house, no job, no mortgage, probably not even a coffee from Starbucks.
"Can you come back tomorrow?"
So it's now day 2. So far we've been here 2 hours. I have a camping stove, a tent and a sleeping bag. This time I not only have my marriage certificate, but just in case, a wedding photo, a dried flower from my bouquet and a letter from the caterer. Oh, and my laptop of course.
What's that? No! I've been so busy writing that I missed them calling my number. Guess I'll have to come back tomorrow.
For non-U.S. citizens it is a little more complicated. You have to present yourself to the nearest social security office which we duly did the other day.
Now, if there's one thing the Ameicans like more than shopping or food (or even shopping for food) it's officialdom. Not only is there a form for everything, but each form comes with it's own pack of forms explaining how to fill them in, how long it will take you and who to write to (in triplicate) should you have any complaints about said form.
When you arrive at the social security office you have to take a ticket and sit and wait. I was thrilled when we onlyhad to wait an hour before being called to the clerk's window.
A pleasant enough man, he copied all our info. onto his database with a snail-like ferocity. Name,
address, mother's maiden name. Ok so far.
"So you were born in London," he said. " Which city in London exactly?"
We had passports, visas and forms. So far, so good.
Favourite colour? No problem. Last time we ate a burger? Er. Length of time it took you to unpack your suitcase? Um?
Marriage certificate. Uh Oh!
"But of course we're married. We couldn't get the visa without proof."
"Sorry, we must have the certificate or we cannot begin the process for you madam. You're ok sir, but you...well.."
No social security number means no house, no job, no mortgage, probably not even a coffee from Starbucks.
"Can you come back tomorrow?"
So it's now day 2. So far we've been here 2 hours. I have a camping stove, a tent and a sleeping bag. This time I not only have my marriage certificate, but just in case, a wedding photo, a dried flower from my bouquet and a letter from the caterer. Oh, and my laptop of course.
What's that? No! I've been so busy writing that I missed them calling my number. Guess I'll have to come back tomorrow.
posted by Hilary at
7:52 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home