| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 6, 2021 |
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Per System Decree: not my legal address
Social Security Says: SQUATTER!
by Elizabeth Emerald
For the past sixteen years, I've been filing my annual "Social Security Statement of Earnings" in one of sundry super-safe places, to ensure that they don't get tossed in the recycle bin.
I may as well have chucked each forthwith; can't find a single one of 'em. (Any would have sufficed; I've earned only double-digits since my involuntary early-early retirement in 2004.)
I went on line to view my statement (via ssa.gov) and proceeded to create the requisite account, which entailed entering the usual identifying data.
"Invalid Information."
I assumed the glitch was due to my leaving the middle initial blank. I do not use my erstwhile middle name, and my card (found whilst searching vainly for the earnings statement) does not include it.
I typed in "A": nope.
Next, "Anne": three strikes, I'm out.
I called the contact number and was pleased to be connected, inside of fifteen minutes, to a lady named neither Siri nor Alexa.
She (I'll call her "Iris," for Siri's flip-side) asked for the same data the screen asked for, to which I gave the same answers.
Iris informed me that the address I provided was incorrect. I informed Iris that I've been living at this address since the last millennium. (Rerererepeat.)
In chess, this fruitless to-and-fro, a "stalemate," would be declared a draw; neither side scores a win and the play begins anew.
Such a civilized convention is moot when one's opponent is a bureaucracy; the lowly citizen can never win.
I hereby concede the match.
I'm off to waste another hour searching out the statement.
For the past sixteen years, I've been filing my annual "Social Security Statement of Earnings" in one of sundry super-safe places, to ensure that they don't get tossed in the recycle bin.
I may as well have chucked each forthwith; can't find a single one of 'em. (Any would have sufficed; I've earned only double-digits since my involuntary early-early retirement in 2004.)
I went on line to view my statement (via ssa.gov) and proceeded to create the requisite account, which entailed entering the usual identifying data.
"Invalid Information."
I assumed the glitch was due to my leaving the middle initial blank. I do not use my erstwhile middle name, and my card (found whilst searching vainly for the earnings statement) does not include it.
I typed in "A": nope.
Next, "Anne": three strikes, I'm out.
I called the contact number and was pleased to be connected, inside of fifteen minutes, to a lady named neither Siri nor Alexa.
She (I'll call her "Iris," for Siri's flip-side) asked for the same data the screen asked for, to which I gave the same answers.
Iris informed me that the address I provided was incorrect. I informed Iris that I've been living at this address since the last millennium. (Rerererepeat.)
In chess, this fruitless to-and-fro, a "stalemate," would be declared a draw; neither side scores a win and the play begins anew.
Such a civilized convention is moot when one's opponent is a bureaucracy; the lowly citizen can never win.
I hereby concede the match.
I'm off to waste another hour searching out the statement.
I may as well have chucked each forthwith; can't find a single one of 'em. (Any would have sufficed; I've earned only double-digits since my involuntary early-early retirement in 2004.)
I went on line to view my statement (via ssa.gov) and proceeded to create the requisite account, which entailed entering the usual identifying data.
"Invalid Information."
I assumed the glitch was due to my leaving the middle initial blank. I do not use my erstwhile middle name, and my card (found whilst searching vainly for the earnings statement) does not include it.
I typed in "A": nope.
Next, "Anne": three strikes, I'm out.
I called the contact number and was pleased to be connected, inside of fifteen minutes, to a lady named neither Siri nor Alexa.
She (I'll call her "Iris," for Siri's flip-side) asked for the same data the screen asked for, to which I gave the same answers.
Iris informed me that the address I provided was incorrect. I informed Iris that I've been living at this address since the last millennium. (Rerererepeat.)
In chess, this fruitless to-and-fro, a "stalemate," would be declared a draw; neither side scores a win and the play begins anew.
Such a civilized convention is moot when one's opponent is a bureaucracy; the lowly citizen can never win.
I hereby concede the match.
I'm off to waste another hour searching out the statement.
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