One more piece has been added to the relocating puzzle.
A moment of suspense...
We finally got our Social Security Cards!
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| Even Elvis had one! |
Our magic numbers have been delivered to our mail box, and we can now do all of the other million things we have to accomplish to feel completely settled in the United States of America.
Praise the Lord Jesus our Saviour!
It has been a bit tense around here lately.
I don't know if you are aware of the fact that without a SS number you can't do much (legally) in the USA. From getting paid by the company you work for, to getting a driver's license everything is monitored via the miraculous figure. Perhaps now we can even use those numbers to play the lottery.
Nine digits of fascination.
It was quite easy to go through the process to apply for our SSN, but the waiting time necessary to get the card delivered was not as leisurely.
Here is the Magic Number tale of those courageous and intrepid boys (hubby and I).
The Fairy Chronicle of the Magic Number.
peaceful, prosperous, and rich in romance and tradition.
One day those fair boys got the chance of a life time when they were offered to relocate to the wonderful kingdom of Miami, Florida.
They traveled far and wide (and in economy class) for many many hours (until their bums were numbed for good) but they eventually landed in the sunny reign of Florida.
What an exotic land.
Palm trees, perpetual sunshine and opportunities as far as the eye could see.
Soon those boys found out that in order to be able to go to the grand ball (to be introduced to rest of the kingdom) they would have had to gain a magic number. Nine whimsical digits that were going to complete the spell for their Happily Ever After.
At this point our boys found themselves at a crossroad:
One sign said: Go to the US Social Security Administration on Northwest 36th Street. But that part of the fanciful town of Miami didn't look very safe to our boys. Too many burglar bars at the windows and not enough parking space. They couldn't afford to get into a dispute with any of the town's brutes, so they considered the second sign.
The second sign said: Go to the US Social Security Administration on Alton Road, Miami Beach. The sound of that location made our boys feel more comfortable right away. There were no burglar bars to be seen and they could park their white horses at the Publix near by. Very quaint.
Once they got inside the SSA building they encountered a very intriguing assortment of characters. Parents with their broods, wise old ladies dressed in flowery dresses, grumpy old men in cargo khaki pants and many gringos (foreigners) just like our fair boys.
The next thing to do was to get a number from a novel piece of machinery that kept spitting out white squares of paper. Those little flyers contained the directions and time expectancy for the interview that would have shortly followed.
The boys number was F664. Magical indeed.
At this point the wholesome couple had to fill out a form each with their details and add all the necessary documentation. A cornucopia of legal papers and visa reports.
Once their turn came, they sat in front of a gentle man with the smallest hands they had ever seen on a grown chap. He had a kind face and he reminded them of that actor from Modern Family, Phil Dunphy, but slightly more awkward. He spoke in a very soft tone as if he was reciting poetry and not just asking for a copy of their marriage certificate. His peculiarly little hands were typing the required details in the data system like they were playing a soothing piece of classical music on a piano. A concerto for keyboard. His music sheets were the Social Security forms in front of his vivacious and lively dark eyes.
Only a bullet-proof glass partition separeted the boys from the kind government employee but they could perceive his benevolent nature very clearly.
The state officer with the tiny hands and spirited eyes gave the boys a big smile and told them that their magic numbers were going to be delivered to their address in one to two weeks. He also added that since one of the boys was from the faraway land of South Africa he was going to have to wait a bit longer.
As per usual.
The boys left the office feeling confident and secure that their magic numbers were going to arrive before the stroke of twelve. (Fairy Tale lingo to describe in timely fashion)
On the 12th of December the boys opened their gilded mailbox.
They were ecstatic.
Two white envelopes containing their Social Security Cards had been delivered to them.
They opened the missives with trepidation and found their shiny new blue cards.
At first our boys were a bit flabbergasted because they expected these cards to be at least laminated. Instead it was just simple printed paper.
Once they got over themselves and their OCD, the boys realized the volume of things they were going to be able to do with their magic numbers.
Open a bank account, start to get paid, get a driver's license and all those other wondrous and extraordinary things that the people of the United Reign of the Americas take for granted.
Our boys got on their white stallions and trotted gaily into the sunset.
And they paid their taxes happily ever after.
THE END.
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