Knowing the Social Security office opened at 9:00 a.m., mom and I left the house at 8:30 a.m. Mom found parking nearby…at least I thought. I finally get upstairs to a dank and dark hallway with a wooden door with a worn handle area should have alerted me that I was about to enter the gates of another authoritative, governmental office.
I got searched due to terrorism happening somewhere else in the world – fucking towel heads. Next I had to wait in line – behind a “brilliant” person that did not understand the machine and was taking way too much time – probably another immigrant taking American benefits, having never paid into the system. I finally sit and begin to crochet when the dullest dolt is giving a play by play of ticket progress on the screen above to another dullard who additionally has no life of which to speak.
Finally, my number is called. I get to the window, throw my things on the counter, while explaining the purpose of my visit, only to be returned to the waiting area because the representative was unable to assist me. What the fuck? Why then, was I called up? Presuming I had been removed from the queue due to social security error, I expected to be called by the next available representative.
Focused on my crochet, I had lost track of the numbers for a minute or so and realized they were calling numbers in the same series as I that were at least 877 from 832: 35 people after me? No one was responding to S832 and the guard called out for everyone to check their tickets again. This time, I spoke up: “I have S877 which is way before S832, and I am still sitting here.” He takes my ticket and returns, explaining that my ticket was for a replacement card. I argue it is not. He has the nerve to argue back! I again state it is not! I should know, I pushed the fucking buttons, jack ass! If he had listened to me he would have found out that the reason I was there was not a button on the fucking machine.
I sit and eventually, I am finally called up by female Romo. I begin – nicer this time – removing my items while she is still assisting her fellow employee. I begin to speak, despite her lack of attention – Why the hell did you call me up only to not assist? Another passive-aggressive government employee? – and she explains the obvious. I argue that her fellow employee should find help from someone else in the tone of someone that is being rudely and intentionally ignored. She repeats her argument. Because I am getting louder out of pure frustration, I am causing enough of a commotion for the male guard to approach the wind and ask me to be quieter. In as many words, I tell him I don’t want to be quieter or I might be if they didn’t employ “fucking – was it retards” The guard feels he must admonish me and threatens me with eviction if I continue to use profanity. EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME! I should be allowed to speak in any volume, manner I feel when I am being harassed in a government office that I already have a grudge against for:
- Lack of ease in changing my US Direct Express to Direct Deposit on a website that SHOULD be functioning (ADA). Female Romo only did a few keystrokes and it was done.
- Withholding MY, legally justified money for retroactive payments.
- Putting me on US Direct Express despite my indication and providence for direct deposit on my fucking application
- Making ill people – like myself, discovering at a later doctor’s appointment that my blood pressure was 84/54. The is dangerously low, but I already knew that because I almost collapsed outside the interiors of another government administrative hell.
I decide to be sarcastically witty with my reply of “Stupid Employees,” enjoying the reaction of disgust from female Romo. I remain seated until she is finally ready to assist me. A couple of keystrokes and she is done. OMG! I could have done that myself – if the fucking website worked. I confirm everything I have requested is done and she explains I can get rid of the US Direct Express card now. Little did she know I still had a balance in that bank – so annoying – another visit to another institution. I also confirm with female Romo that I wish to speak to the person in charge. She assures me that someone will come to speak to me.
Only to feel approximately 15 minutes later that if I was a business owner/government office, it might behoove me to address an angry/dissatisfied customer/patron immediately. Knowing Representative Ridley Thomas had assisted with incompetence at Department of Public and Social Service, I call his office once again. Wrong office. DPSS is county government. Transferred to another nameless politician in government at the state level. Wrong again. At the federal level – barely unable to speak due to cotton mouth from medication – I explain why I am calling. The lady is nice and calming. Bottom line, she calmed me down, got me laughing again and encouraged me to write this letter, to which I am demanding an investigation as to why government employees are so fucking rude to American citizens.
Please be advised that this letter has already been published on blog. My audience might be interested in your reply as well.
Thank you in advance,