I think there’s no time like the present to teach your kids that bureaucracies are made for poking holes in. Like, when they’re three months old.
Aurora and I set off for downtown Oakland, to get her paper trail going. Ours is a documentation-crazy society, and it’s far easier to do all this when they’re little. We’d undergone the application process for the birth certificate two months ago. This involved showing up in the office with the baby, both parents, and the midwife, and everyone waving around little pieces of paper to prove that they were who they said they were and that in fact that precise baby had been made by precisely those parents and that we had not in fact stolen her from someone or somewhere else. La. Once the admin was satisfied, we submitted the form, and left to wait for a few weeks to let the computers in the system digest the information.
We arrived at the Vital Records office, to get the paper copies. I have to say, I think it’s a little cruel to have births, deaths, and marriages all in the same line. But it also gives one a great deal to think about while waiting. And wait we did. 45 minutes later, we were called back. I gave them her name and date of birth, and within two minutes and quite a ridiculous amount of money, they’d run three legal copies off on their printer. I find myself wondering why I had to pay $19 apiece for them; do I not pay taxes? I don’t know anyone who bills at the rate of $9.50/minute, nor do I know of any paper that costs that much per sheet, so I’m still a bit befuddled by the payment structure there. But I’m sure my government only wants what’s best for me and there’s a valid reason. Yeah.
From there, we headed up the hill to the Social Security Administration. These are the folks that crank out the nine digits that rule the rest of your life, if you’re American. It’s used as ID pretty much everywhere. And it’s also a must-have if you’re going to get a passport, which was the end-purpose of all this paper pushing. So off we go. If you have a hospital birth, they do this for you, but if you’re a homebirther, you have to do it yourself. I’d been super diligent and filled out the form online in advance, although I was confused by the part where they ask for another form of ID. Um, she’s three months old, there’s no other ID besides a birth certificate possible.
I got to the office, took a number, and was immediately called up. Score! I plopped down the application, the birth certificate (still slightly warm from Vital’s printer), and smiled.
“I’d like a social security number for my baby, please.”
The woman looked at me like I was a bug. “You haven’t completed the form, the prior social security number isn’t filled out.”
“Um… she doesn’t have a prior, this is a first card, she’s three months old.” At this point I leaned sideways, so she could see Aurora, who was at that point, sound asleep in my Beco sling.
And this is where it got goofy.
“You could have gotten that baby anywhere, who says it’s yours?”
Annoyed, I showed her my medical insurance card, which has my name, Jason’s name, and all the kids’s names. “I’m paying for her insurance, I am who I am, I have her birth certificate, her father and the midwife and I all had to be present to get that, so really, that’s about as identified as she’s going to get.”
“Well, you’ll have to have her medical records then.”
“But she’s not been to a doctor, she’s not sick.”
“Well what about her vaccination records?”
“She’s not vaccinated.”
At this point, the bureaucrat behind the desk literally gasped and pushed back from the window. Yeah, cause oh-so-many infectious disease epidemics are spread by three month olds.
“Well you will have to have her examined by a fully qualified medical doctor, NOT a midwife, and get her vaccinated, before she can be issued a card.”
This is, of course, an outright lie. I smiled tightly, said “thank you for your time” and was given the most self-satisfied, smug smile I’ve ever seen on the face of a bureaucrat. We left.
I walked back down to the car. I fumed for about two minutes, while I fed Aurora, and thought about my options.
I decided that the simplest resistance was best. I drove to the Berkeley Social Security office. Walked in. Took a number. Waited about fifteen minutes, and had several fabulous conversations with some wildly colorful and entertaining people. Got called to the screening window, where they verify that you have your forms filled out and everything ready to go.
“I’m here to get a Social Security Number for my baby.” (lean sideways to flash Aurora’s gorgeous smile)
“Oh! That is the cutest baby!” She then yelled over her shoulder to the woman running the next window “Don’t call anyone else! I’m pushing the lady with the baby to the front of the line!”
I get called up. I confidently, despite sweating inside, hand her my form, the birth certificate, the insurance card, my ID, and say “I’d like to get a number for my baby, please.”
To which the woman replies “Wow! You are so prepared! Thanks, that really helps us out!”. She typed, we chatted about babies and slings and governments and sleep deprivation. Her printer spit out a receipt, which she handed over, saying sunnily “you should get a receipt in the mail that says it’s in process, and the card should arrive in 4 to 6 weeks; faster if the Governor increases our budget!”
And that was that.
I am really conflicted about what to do next. Do I just spread the word with the local homebirth community that there’s someone at the Oakland Social Security office who is giving out inaccurate info and making life difficult for no good reason? Do I file a formal complaint? Do I do nothing?
It’s upsetting that a single paper pusher with an agenda can sit smugly behind their rolling window, and make your life easy, or difficult, at their whim, based on their own prejudices. I’m glad we are getting this all done way before we actually need it, while there’s still time to be calm and work it through. I can only imagine what that woman’s obstructionism does to people who are in a hurry to get a child’s passport and are balked by her power trip. And I am really grateful that I live in a metropolitan area where I have options of different offices to go to; I could not have pulled this off if I lived in a more rural location, with only one office in striking distance. And what’s more upsetting is this; I was trying to do the right thing, in terms of the government. I was getting Aurora’s information into the system, making her officially a citizen, and throwing stupid amounts of money at the government in the meantime. Were I really someone with a subversive agenda, I would not have been in there trying to get Aurora all documented; I’d have been flying as far under the radar as possible.
So at base, it was the bureaucrat’s prejudices versus my desire to play by the rules, and prejudice nearly won. Welcome to the land of the free.
Tags: bureaucrats, homebirth, paper pushers, paperwork, prejudice
