I’m musing today, as the U.S. gasoline price hits another all-time high in national average (You did that, Joe!), about the decline in services rendered by organizations be they public or private.
Specifically, I’m down on the collective competence of Social Security and about any other governmental or quasi-governmental agency you’d like to name.
For those of you new to this blog, my mother died in early April. I mention this not as the plea for attention that marks such posts on Facebook and Twitter, but just as a matter of providing background.
My mother was collecting Social Security payments, as well as a severely reduced pension from Bethlehem Steel based on the working career of her second husband. Said Bethlehem Steel pension, owing to that company’s bankruptcy, had fallen under the auspices of the Pension Benefit Guaranty Corporation.
Useful aside to those of you looking ahead to collecting a pension, regardless of the economic health of your company: Don’t count on it. At least don’t count on ALL of it. Although that guaranty spelling of guarantee makes it sound all safe, secure and upper crust, you get just pennies on the promised dollars.
My mother and other Bethlehem pensioners found that out.
A variation of this warning to would-be retirees is me telling any who will listen that you are likely to get your promised Social Security benefit, regardless of the economic health of the government’s Ponzi-style retirement system.
The catch, and it is a significant one, is with runaway inflation upon us and likely to worsen through the years, that entire monthly Social Security payment might buy you a loaf of bread and maybe a quart of milk to help wash it down.
Back to Social Security. The manager of the funeral home that handled my mother’s arrangements made the usual notifications, notably to Social Security, which in turn is supposed to notify Medicare.
It was left to me do other things, such as getting in touch with the Pension Benefit Guaranty people.
They seemed to be on top of things to start. But imagine my surprise when last week, in the space of a few days, I received first a letter saying all needed documentation had been provided and that nothing else was needed from me.
Shortly thereafter came a request for copious amounts of additional documentation. Say what?
Since this documentation would be to make sure the paltry direct deposit would no longer be made to a checking account we had closed due to the death, they can eagerly await further documentation for the next 30 years or so.
Now, on to Social Security. I received an urgent letter from them lamenting that a direct deposit had been returned and I need to contact them to straighten out this mess.
I should have known these were not the sharpest tools in the drawer when I noted the letter was dated May 17, 2022, but the metered mail stamp had a May 11 date. So, they supposedly mailed this letter six days before they wrote it.
Theoretical physicists say time travel, while possible, would require incalculable amounts of energy. They aren’t taking into consideration what can be done by the combined wealth and waste of the federal government.
Beyond the curious timing, the letter provided a toll-free number to call and instructions to press a digit – in my case 1 – based on the claim number to get help. I called the number and got a request for a nine-digit mailbox number.
Being eight digits short, I defaulted to calling the regular Social Security number, which got me more than 30 minutes on hold waiting to talk to a representative.
That person turned out to be Mary, although I needed her to repeat that for clarification’s sake since her slurred voice sounded as though she’d at first said something like Mogambo.
Mary asked almost as much information about me (name, relationship, address, Social Security number) as she did about my mother.
She said there had been no notification of the death to Social Security, although the funeral director confirmed he had, indeed, done so, and I myself had called previously as a backup.
Mary spent a lot of time sighing and, presumably, struggling with the computer system before finally telling me, a bit triumphantly, that she’d entered the death into the system and we “should” be good now.
I’m thinking the “should” qualifier was by design, not a casual insertion.
Like me, you no doubt have seen incredible stories of deceased Social Security recipients receiving payments years or even decades after their deaths, said payments being eagerly used to pump up the economy by various surviving spouses and/or relatives.
These gaffes used to amaze me. But that no longer is the case based on my personal experience.
Sam Ross Jr's site 