Don't Bank On It: Part 3

Ross decided that banking with a supermarket may not be the best idea after all, so the next day we went along to a proper branch of the bank, all big, shiny and very authoritative. One thing did amaze me, however. In England banks and post office workers are protected by sheets of armour plated glass. In America, where guns are legal, these places are wide open, with people strolling around as in an office. Anyway, I digress.
This time we spent an hour and half starting the entire process all over again with another woman. Within five minutes I was missing the jolly comaraderie of Cindy and Ross was no doubt missing the purring of Joanne. Paveena Shah, alas not her real name, was an officious witch who within minutes made us feel like aliens not only to America, but another planet.
"It is always much more difficult for foreigners," she said. "I should know, I am one."
I had never realised quite how negative the word 'foreigner' is. She must have used it 20 times.
Eventually she got to the part where she had to fill in details on her computer screen about me.
"What shall we put down as an occupation for you?" She sneered. Without waiting for an answer she said: "Home-maker?"
This is a very sore point with me for two reasons. One, without a social security number I cannot apply for a work permit so am completely unemployable at present. Two, without a social security number I cannot buy a home, so I can't even reach the dizzy heights of home-maker.
Seeing the steam coming out of my ears, Ross immediately interjected.
"She's a journalist," he said. (He should be one, bending the truth like that. Of course I am hoping to return to that line of work should any editors be reading this, but only once I get the work permit, of course).