I just got back from attempting to get a driver’s license in the state of North Carolina. Let’s just say, the experience left me a little pissed off.
After we stood in line for about 20 minutes (and this was just to get a number to wait in another line, and we were at the front of that line), I was informed that I could not get my license because I don’t have a social security card.
See, I was robbed nearly four years ago and the thieves stole it from my house and weren’t kind enough to bring it back to me. At the time I went to the social security administration to get a new card (in addition to placing every credit block on my identity known to mankind, and then some more). Due to total government ineptitude, I never received the card in the mail, as promised. Since then, I pretty much took an “I don’t really give a shit” attitude towards it all. After all, I have plenty of other documents proving who I am, aside from my handsome mug. Or so I thought.
Among the documents I had in possession this afternoon proving my legal status as a U.S. citizen was my birth certificate, my marriage license (that includes my ssn), my most recent W-2 (again, with my ssn), and a current drivers license issued from the state of Illinois. But alas, in this state these do not provide sufficient evidence to prove who the fuck I really am.
And as a little aside, inasmuch as I understand, the social security act had something to do with retirement benefits and not some sort of serial number for some gestapo-like regime to use to track us. And furthermore, these so-called “benefits” are unlikely to ever make to my wallet, seeing as I’m only 33 years of age and the government has so wisely chosen to fund every other program from the social security fund (including bullshit wars, election campaigns, and a whole bunch of other shit that I don’t support).
I’d love to say “Fuck the man”, but unfortunately he’s fucking me right now. So on Monday morning I get to spend my precious time at the social security adminstration, then for a couple of weeks hope and pray and keep my fingers crossed that they actually mail the card to me this time. And assuming that I get the card in the mail, I get to go back and stand in two different lines, to get another form of identification to prove that I’m really me.
Serenity now, insanity later.