Instructions on how to get your way through Social Security (part deux)

1.) Stock up on patience, including aides such as
a.) Xanax
b.) Rosary beads
c.) The Serenity Prayer
d.) more Xanax
2.) Thus armed, return to the Social Security Office and take a number from the number dispensing machine.
3.) Wait for 2 (or more) hours for your number to be called. (*Note if you are hard of hearing or cannot make out the numbers on the "scoreboard" as they flit past, or do not speak English fluently, I recommend beating your head against a brick wall until somebody objects about the spray of blood on the floor, otherwise You Are Screwed!)
4.) When the number is called, hurry up to the appropriate window and explain why you are here. You will then be told to sit back down and wait for your name to be called by the Specialist who can help you with your problem.
5.) Wait 2 (or more) more hours for your name to be called to the appropriate window where a "specialist" will tell you your problem does not fall within their jurisdiction and to please take a seat and wait for your name to be called when the person, who can help you returns from his/her lunch break.
6.) Count to ten. Practice deep breathing exercises. Count to twenty. Look at watch. Pray there will not be another fire alarm called. Meekly return to your seat.
7.) Wait 2 (or more) more hours and worry that you have dozed off while your name was called.
8.) Engage security guard in light-hearted discusssion about the weather and neatly interject plea to discover if your name was called.
9.) Celebrate your Higher Power of Choice upon discovery that your name has yet to be called and chance a quick dash to the bathroom, listening intently for your name to be called.
10.) Finally hear name called!
11.) Flush.
12.) Run to "The Door," as in, THE DOOR (which leads to real people, who can actually affect changes in the otherwise totally computerized and virus-laden system.)
13.) Gush with thanks to the nice lady.
14.) Explain your story.
15.) Listen to her explanation of what you supposedly did wrong, why it was the wrong thing to do, and how she is the only person who can help you.
16.) Pretend to understand.
17.) Pretend to be lucid-but-not- too-lucid.
18.) Sign lots and lots of forms.
19.) Nod appreciatively at her anecdotes about life in the System.
20.) Laugh weakly.
21.) Stroke head of therapy dog.
22.) Provide sappy stories about acquisition of therapy dog.
23.) Pretend to cough and gag down your last dry-swallowed Xanax.
24.) Sigh with relief as more forms are printed = "the final forms."
25.) Sign, sign, sign!
26.) Scan the battle-ground/waiting room. It is strewn with candy wrappers, Kleenex, and random bits & pieces of shattered lives, just as entitled to the Pursuit of Happiness and the American Dream, but none quite so tenacious you...
27.) Leave with a wry wink and lopsided grin (working the System, baby!)