Would You Like Lies With That?
I really really *really* didn’t need any more proof, but today I got some.
See I’ve suspected for some time that there is, in fact, a grand conspiracy taking place in my honor at higher levels of government. I’ve managed to talk myself out of this feeling on numerous occasions, accusing myself of getting a big head for no reason…..what on earth could *they* want with lil’ ol’ me?
Well, awhupsie.
Apparently they picked my name in their giant craptastic lottery and boy oh boy am I the lucky loser! (In order to preserve the minimum of sanity, I refuse to believe that my numbers coming up were anything more than arbitrary.)
Also, people are stupid.
Also, I would dearly love to encounter, hear from, or otherwise contact a government employee that is happy in his or her job. (oddly exempting the Post Office….most of my encounters there are pleasant.)
I would like to see a sample of a government application form. In my mind, (and until someone convinces me otherwise), they go something like this:
23. Do you play well with others? yes no X
24. Do the voices in your head tell you to do mean things, or do you come up with them on your own? voices
25. On your last conviction, were the charges dropped due to the mysterious disappearance of the sole witness? yes X no
26. Do you ever smile? yes no X
multiple choice:
46. When decent, taxpaying people approach my counter, I don’t have to be pleasant because:
a. I have something they need and they have no choice but to deal with me
b. Pleasant or not, they still have to pay my salary, or they’re going to jail. Hehe.
c. I get my orders directly from the Mothership
d. All of the above
Anyway, you get the idea. It just baffles me that being polite (even if it’s totally fake and through clenched teeth) is such a problem. It’s like the very last thing on anyone’s agenda.
But let’s back up to when I was first starting to get an inkling of a conspiracy.
For that, we need to hop in the ol’ time machine back to 2003. That’s right. Three (3) whole years ago.
It all started when I was doing my taxes.
This was the second year I was filing online. What could be simpler? EZ form, W-2, plug in the numbers, done! Except that *this* time, my return kept coming back to me, saying that something wasn’t right. Some information somewhere didn’t match.
Well, hell, it’s not beyond the realm of belief that could have made an error , (even though I had forked out the $ to have H&R Block online go over it and make sure every cent that could be gotten back was gotten but good)….so I rechecked it. Everything was in order.
“Send” I clicked.
Boom. Back it came. Clicked again. Back it came. Wow, hey! This was getting annoying! So I clicked one of those “help” type keys and got ‘more information.’ And do you want to know what it told me? My birthdate was incorrect. How easy a fix is that? I almost chuckled.
But then I looked and no, my birthdate was entered correctly. I clicked on yet *more* information and was informed that my social security number did not match their records for my birthdate.
So I checked my Soc. And guess what? It was correct.
At this point, a big WTF was brewing. I checked and rechecked but it kept telling me the same thing. The WTF?! was getting bigger, and adding punctuation.
“How” I wondered, “can the government who issued my birth certificate AND social security card both, suddenly get confused as to what my actual D.O.B. is??”
So you can imagine where I ended up next. Searching frantically for that magic phone number they never seem to post in a visible place so I could call the friggin IRS and find out WTF!?!??!?! (which by now was quite steamy, as you can well imagine)
I will spare you the details of the next part, but suffice it to say (and I wish I was making this up) that that is ONE HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES ON HOLD THAT I WILL NEVER GET BACK, EVER. By the time the guy actually picked up the phone I seriously cried a little bit. It was quite emotional.
But here’s the thing: he was NICE. He was PERFECTLY PLEASANT as he looked it up in his magic box and informed me that yes, in fact, my birthday was now listed as being February 11th instead of February 1st.
So I very cordially asked him how the frickin frack that happened! What a zany thing!
And he politely replied that it must have been a ‘keystroke error on their end’ when someone was entering my data.
Well, what a wild and crazy mixup! I told him I would be much obliged if he could fix it for me. And he very cordially told me that I would have to call the Social Security office instead to take care of that. Their computers weren’t linked.
Then, I think, I really did cry. But after being assured that despite being very sorry for the inconvenience, and the promise of naming my firstborn after him, he still couldn’t help me, I thanked him for nothing, and hung up. (Though that was perhaps a bit unfair…at least now I knew when my fake birthday was!)
At that point my nerves were shot so I made a nice cocktail before I decided to see what lovely Muzak I had in store for me at the ol’ SS office. But guess what? I needed to call back during regular business hours!
So I went back and saved my tax stuff on the computer about 24 times to make CERTAIN I didn’t lose the information, and lay in bed, fantasizing about ways I could ‘inconvenience’ Mr. or Ms. ‘Keystroke Error.’
The next day, I called and spent another goodly amount of time on hold, (their Muzak was even worse than the IRS’s, if you can believe that) and talked to someone who finally fixed things for me. Yay! All the same, I ended up sending my tax forms in since I was far too paranoid of another screw-up. My fragile psyche couldn’t handle it at that point.
So yay, taxes are done, birthday is straightened out, at least that’s over, etc.
Until I go to file my 2004 tax return online and GUESS OH GUESS WHAT????
That’s right: it was the return of WTF?!?!?: REDUX: This Time It’s Personal. Same damn thing. Remembering the colossal waste of time from the previous year, and All The Time I Would Never Get Back, I decided to be a rebel. Since I knew what my ‘fake’ birthday was, that’s what I put in. Yep. February 11th. And hey! presto! it went through.
Then I had another cocktail and figured I’d better call the SS office again. This time I was ASSURED that it was corrected. I asked the lady to repeat to me 3 or 4 times before she hung up what my actual birthday and social were.
She passed. I was relieved. She assured me anew that this wouldn’t happen again. And even though that *felt* hollow, I chose to believe her, rather than pop any more wingnuts over it (I can *never* find those things again after they fly off).
So yay. Good times. All is well.
The last two years I have not filed online. Why tempt fate? And all has been well. Ta-freakin-da.
So my bad mojo with government workers should be over, right? The conspiracy has ended, right?
Well I had hoped so. Until today.
I’ve been putting off for too long getting my Washington driver’s license because oh, I dunno….until my maternity leave I was working retail and never had more than one day in a row off, and the thought of spending that one day at the DMV was…..less than appealing, somehow. Hmmm.
But now I’m really pregnant. And technically on bedrest. But thinking about going to the DMV *after* the baby is born…well…I don’t think I need to go any further.
So a friend picks me up and we trek on down to the Office of Horrors.
There is a machine that spits out numbers based on what you need. There was one for ‘license renewal/out-of-state license’ and I took one. And sat down among all the people in the world who had a cough or the urge to sneeze. Fun!
Miraculously, I waited less than an hour and was called. My sausage feet in particular were happy an end was in sight…they are very angry at shoes lately. I went up to the scowling agent and explained my purpose for being there. She told me that I needed more proof of identity and something with my current address on it. Thinking about it made sense, and that part was probably my fault. She handed me a brochure with a list of acceptable documentation to bring BACK with me next time.
But then she just HAD to throw in that I had taken a number from the WRONG CHOICE …and that since I had never had a WA driver’s license before I needed option 1 for first-time licenses.
Whatev!! (insert snapping motions)
Basically she was just really nasty for no reason and since the counter came up so high I don’t think she realized that she just pretty much fucked her karma for the year by getting snarky with a heavily pregnant woman.
Ahem.
So we drove back. And since I wasn’t feeling too horrible today and was determined to get this thing taken care of, she drove me to pick up my DOCUMENTATION and then we went back.
This time the wait was less than half an hour. Huzzah! We were so happy.
So happy, in fact, that even though by that point I had to pee in a way that only people who have ever been pregnant can understand, and that when I went into the restroom I discovered that the (one and only) light was burned out and so pitch black that I wasn’t even going to attempt it in the dark, I didn’t so much mind.
They called my number soon afterwards, and up I went.
I didn’t even mind when the guy was entering my data and some other worker came up to him with a question about a customer that was not me that it then took him 8 minutes extra to answer. (Who was counting? Not me!)
I didn’t mind when he told me it was going to cost twice as much as I anticipated. I happily wrote the check. All this was fine with me.
No, what I minded….WHAT I MINDED, FOLKS, was the unnecessarily long pause as he was looking at his computer screen.
WHAT I MINDED was when he asked “Can I see your social security card again?”
WHAT I MINDED was when he told me that yes, my worst fears were realized anew, and that damn WTF!?!?!? was back to haunt me yet again.
Just to be sure, he confirmed it for me :”It seems your birthdate isn’t matching up with your social security number in our computer.”
Dun dun DUNNNNNNNNNN.
So I gave him the short version after the loudest, most disconsolate sigh you’ve ever heard, and he informed me that the GOOD NEWS was that he could override the computer and I could still get my license today, but the BAD NEWS was that I would ‘most likely’ have to end up going to the SS office in person, with my birth certificate, to straighten out this situation-that-was-never-my-fault-to-start-with-I’ve-got-your-keystroke-error-right-here.
They are *so* out to get me.
It’s all a conspiracy.
I have proof.