He wasn't who he thought he was.

[Abbess Jade]

We all had a plan today. We stood up half the night for that plan, some of us restless, some of us dreaming about what we were going to do. It was sound, almost perfect, and we were all so excited that we could almost taste the glory of this day.

I got up earlier than I usually did (which was around eleven-o'-clock. I usually end up waking up around six in the evening, or maybe three in the afternoon...it all depended), washed up very quickly--since I was about to get left--, got dressed, and walked out the door to get in the car. It was cramped, as always. My parents called it the Jesusmobile because some man from church happened to 'give' us the old piece of shit. When you start it, it sputters and groans and you could hear it countries away. It reminds me of a swarm of bees, or maybe angry, constipated mosquitoes. The steering wheel is a safety hazard (as it shifts loosely from side to side) and the radio is missing (has been since we got it), and the only thing good about it is that it had air conditioning....barely.

It was hot as fuck outside. My folks rolled down the windows so that the wind would blow into my ears, and I'd have to shout at the top of my lungs over the brrrrrrrrrrr of the Jesusmobile just to tell them that I was excited about today.

What was happening? Money.

We were going to the bank because it seems that we have overpaid our mortgage this year, and the bank sent us the difference. It ended up being a good 3,000, a few hundreds, and some change. We were excited. We needed this. We needed this.

But there was a problem. My father got his Driver's Licence suspended, and his name was on the check. So the only way we could possibly get the check cashed was to get him a new ID. We were on our way to the DMV, determined to get this done so we could go back and get everything settled. When we get there, we set down his birth certificate and social security card down at the desk where a rather portly lady sat. She has a distinct 'Hoosier' accent with a radio that played Miley Cyrus in the background. After photo-copying the documents and calling my father 'hon' about fifty times, she took his photo and was ready to get all the information put on the card...which was to be sent to Downtown and mailed to us, where we would get a paper that would be our 'temporary' ID for him until we got the real thing in the mail.

"There's a problem, hon," she said in mid-process. "Your birth certificate don't match up with y'er social."

We all looked dumbfounded. How the hell could that be right? Everything has always worked before, all his information always matched up. My father looked pissed, and we were all wishing the woman wouldn't fool around any more.

"It shows that y'er birth certificate only says that you are Leslie Turner, whereas y'er social says that your name is Leslie Allen Turner. Did you get a name change...?"

He soon turned quiet and almost meek. Childlike even. He tried to play off his confusion with a tiny chuckle. "Nope, my mother just told me when I was old enough to understand that my name was Leslie Allen Turner. That's all."

"Well it says here that y'are just Leslie Turner. No Allen, no 'A'. So we won't be able t' give you an ID. Y'er gunna have to either go see if there's a mistake--which ain't likely--or you're going to have to go to th' Department of Social Services, hon, an' tell them that they made a mistake on y'er name. But even then, it's gon' take at least a whole twenty-four hours to take care a' that."

And then there was the expression that I haven't seen my father hold before. It was the kind of expression that--after a long sixty-one years of life--this man suddenly didn't know who he was for a single moment. That expression was severely heart-breaking, for it was blank, eyes glazed over with this tint of certain sorrow.

We went home today, money-less and confused.

I said, "Dad, you're still Leslie Allen to me."

"Me, too," he murmured. "Me, too."



TL;DR

My dad found out he had no middle name. We get no money. Sad day.

[Doktor Howl]

Jesus fuck.  There's a certain type of bureaucrat... 

[Fujikoma]

That totally sucks... I've had something similar happen, but not identical...

Seems if the police mangle your home address on your check that they write you to compensate you for the money they took from you when you went to jail, no one will cash it for you. Luckily, one of my coworkers had an aunt who worked in a pawn shop, who agreed to cash the check.

[Jenne]

Ah, the perimenipausal female bureaucrat.  She is a grand impediment to getting business taken care of, at all levels she works in.    Next time, bring in some chocolate, hand it over first thing.  

...I'm not kidding.

[Doktor Howl]

My last year in the army, I was out of commission with a broken right knee...so they made me a bureaucrat, until my knee was healed well enough to toss me out (Yeah, I know).

Just for shits and giggles, I decided to say "yes" to everything that I could possibly find the barest legal excuse for.  There's a really funny story tied up with this, that I suppose I'll write down later, but the upshot is, the office I was working in worked like a well-oiled machine, from minimal effort.

The systems, byzantine as they are, are designed TO work, and it takes a special kind of asshole to "inflict the rules" on you.

Unfortunately, that type of person usually becomes a bureaucrat.

[Fujikoma]

Positions of power naturally draw abusers and power mongers, just as shit draws flies.

[Eater of Clowns]

Positions of power naturally draw abusers and power mongers, just as shit draws flies.

Conversely, abusers and power mongers will find ways to abuse any amount of power they are given.

[Fujikoma]

Leading to a rolling shitball effect... Heaven help those wrecked souls, splattered by the ever-expanding shitmonster.

[Abbess Jade]

Luckily, my brother's name is also Leslie Allen Turner. He agreed to help us cash the check.


So we get there, and the bank wants to hold our check 'till Friday, because they suspect it's fraudulent. Fuckin' bullshit. They only want to hold it so they can hit a nice money pocket and boost up their interest rates. I ain't stupid. I might be sixteen, but I'm NOT fucking stupid. I saw the 'pleased' expression on the banker's face. I saw how she went on the internet, looked up something, said it would take two days to hold--then return to that screen and change her mind. "Oh, excuse me. It'll actually be held until Friday."

Or maybe I could be wrong. Maybe I'm just paranoid.

[Kai]

My last year in the army, I was out of commission with a broken right knee...so they made me a bureaucrat, until my knee was healed well enough to toss me out (Yeah, I know).

Just for shits and giggles, I decided to say "yes" to everything that I could possibly find the barest legal excuse for.  There's a really funny story tied up with this, that I suppose I'll write down later, but the upshot is, the office I was working in worked like a well-oiled machine, from minimal effort.

The systems, byzantine as they are, are designed TO work, and it takes a special kind of asshole to "inflict the rules" on you.

Unfortunately, that type of person usually becomes a bureaucrat.

So, are you saying that it's not bureaucracy that's the problem, just the assholes running it?

[Jenne]

I think bureaucracy creates assholes, and vice versa...

[Fujikoma]

I think the assholes are always there, perhaps the very presence of bureaucracy is a sort of enabler for the poor asshole, giving them a method of surviving... Unfortunately, the asshole, if left unchecked, will reproduce in unsustainable proportions, either through infection or conception. Therefor, let us not do away with the bureaucracy, and the unfortunate assholes in the process, but put into law a controlled asshole hunting program. A few months out of every year shall be asshole season.

[Nast]

Ah, the perimenipausal female bureaucrat.  She is a grand impediment to getting business taken care of, at all levels she works in.    Next time, bring in some chocolate, hand it over first thing.  

...I'm not kidding.

Oh my goodness, that one just might work!

Anyway, Jade, my condolences regarding the bureaucratic clusterfuck. And Lord knows; hell, I know that the DMV is one of the worst in that department. Shall we burn it down together?

[Pæs]

Yay bureaucracy. 
I dread this situation every time someone needs my birth certificate to verify my identity.
The name I've used all my life and have all my other ID as is misspelled on my birth certificate. Nobody has noticed yet, and I haven't had it fixed in the hopes that I come up with some ingenious way to use it as a second identity (to a computer, a few letters switched around is an entirely different entry).

But I'm sure they'll notice at the worst possible time, as it sounds like they did in this case.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

That's bullshit, about the middle name. They are full of shit.