Catch-22

The last time My Sweet Baboo and I flew anywhere, I had an expired New York State non-driver ID card and a paper ‘promissory note’ from the DMV attesting to my request for a new ID. Again, my ID is expired, and as we’re flying out of town next month, I thought I’d get a jump on the renewal this time, if only because there was a risk the same TSA agent would get me and not believe that I actually had an out of date ID twice in five years.

To renew the ID card in this post- 9/11 world, New York requires a social security card. Which of course I don’t have. Most likely I threw it out thinking that no one could possibly be interested in it, my signature carefully affixed when I was about thirteen years old, and bearing not a whit of likeness to my current gorgeously illegible scrawl. But – and here comes the catch-22 – to get a replacement social security card, you need a state-issued driver’s license or non-driver ID. I went online, checked the Social Security Administration’s web site, downloaded an application and headed off to the Federal Building to see if I could get a new card.

What was interesting about the trip was the 40 minutes I spent in the waiting area. Some folks were there for simple things like me (including a man in my same catch-22) but others were there for more stressful reasons.

One of the more captivating stories I had the opportunity to overhear was that of a widow in her late 70s, who lost her husband last month. She spoke with an accent but was “a citizen for 44 years and proud to be one,” she announced. She needed to speak with someone because ‘Alice’ from the Social Security office had called her on Saturday (on Saturday!) and among other things had asked the widow to confirm her social security number. She did, but with some hesitation, because even though Alice seemed trustworthy the widow knew there were bad people out there looking to take advantage of her. Her friends were upset that she gave her information over the phone, so she had come to the office to make sure everything was OK. She had “not slept, too scared, I haven't eaten I’m so scared about giving the number out”, she told the gentleman at the window.

Her story had a good ending. Alice is an SSA employee, she was working overtime on Saturday, and there was a record of her phone call in the computer. The gentleman confirmed all of the information, answered a few other questions, and the best part? He was happy to call the woman’s god-daughter to come downtown and get the widow safely home.

And my ending? Well, when I pointed out the catch-22 with the expired ID I can’t renew without a social security card I can’t get without a current ID, I was told that “this is America, you need ID to get ID these days” – pretty ironic, I thought. Fortunately, I had my completed application, my original birth certificate (never looked at), my employee ID card (carefully examined), my credit cards (no use), my health insurance ID card (useful but surprising since my ID number is no longer my social), checks with my name and address on them (cute design but of no value), my card from Sally Beauty Supply (always a great conversation piece), my expired non-driver ID, and an honest face.

I’ll have my replacement card in about 10 days, which means I’m one giant step closer to the DMV and the dreaded photo op. I can’t wait!

Sue