I AM AWARE THAT it's usually "the third time's the charm" In this case, I've got my fingers crossed, hoping the fourth trip brings me luck! Surely, Dear Reader, you know where I'm headed! Yesterday I finally got a chance to visit Aunt Ann at the retirement home. Ha, ha, I laughed. "They need proof that you're older than they suppose! Can you believe it? They wish to cheat you out of one whole week!"
Today as I pull into traffic, headed for the Social Security office, I've got not only her birth certificate, but her birth registration. I've got a copy of her will, insurance papers, some medical papers, and her very real John Hancock on the application form. I'm all set, Dear Reader, ALL SET!
The parking lot seems filled to capacity when I pass Fisher's Homestyle Salads and enter the area of the Social Security office. Hmm, a big special on salads? Or do I sense a sale at Sensing Devices, Inc.?
Never mind, I find an empty spot, far enough away that I likely could take photos, though it's hard to say. Gathering up my papers, I walk the sidewalk to the SS office and enter the room. Great-guards a-gazin', the room is packed with people! There must be forty or so, lined up in the rows of chairs, and around the edges of the room. It's SRO! (yup, you got it--STANDING ROOM ONLY IN THE SS OFFICE!)
Not one, but two security men come to greet me.
"What are you here for?" they ask.
They hand me a ticket and the ticket states: Estimated Waiting Time: 160 Minutes. I am slightly stunned. My face turns slightly red and my pulse quickens slightly. Everything, it seems, appears to be slight except the WAIT TIME!!
"What?!" I exclaim. "One hundred and sixty minutes?! That's too long! I can't wait that long!"
"Oh, it's almost never what they estimate!" The two guards hasten to mollify me, but there will be none of that.
"More than two-and-a-half hours is simply too long!" I tell them again. "When is the slow time?"
Their counsel is to come back on another day when it's nearly closing time. "If you get here before three, and get in before we close the door, you're guaranteed to be taken care of before leaving." (Sorry to say, Reader Dear, but inside my head I am snorting [Inside my head I am also pulling out my camera and focusing right on their faces [as they (inevitably) are lunging toward me with hands outstretched to snatch my biggest blog tool (and billy clubs raised!)])
Fisher's Homestyle Salads doesn't look all that busy as I exit the lot. At this location, it's likely just their corporate offices, I muse. As often as I get over this way, perhaps I should get a part-time job there.
(to be cont'd....