You have to know my daughter Tammy to appreciate this..

Forty years ago I got both my daughters their Social Security numbers. Don’t ask me what was on my mind that day, but I not only gave the wrong name for Tamara, but I gave the wrong birth date. She was listed as Tammy and her birth date was five days off.

Several months ago, she was subjected to an I.R.S. audit and her accountant noticed the discrepancy in her records.

“I think you should fix this Social Security data” he said, “and soon!”

At her request and seeing it was my screw-up, I looked up the requirements on the web. Seems as ‘tho all she needed was a current passport and maybe a birth certificate. She collected the documents and checked in by drawing a number at the Downtown Seattle Social Security Office on 8th and Lenora.

Ever been in a Social security Office? Well, I have been there several times in the last five years and the customers are not all savory folk; actually there’s a lot of low-lifes and why they gather there I can only imagine.

Seen Tammy lately? She dresses in Escada, Hermes, Chanel, David Yurman and in her Jimmy Choo’s, she’s almost 6 feet of gorgeous womanhood. Very impressive and she keeps up with her clientele of high-end restaurateurs, local celebrities and the Seattle ‘in’ crowd. Sitting in the Social Security Waiting Room she was definitely out of place catching up on her Blackberry e-mail. But she took a number, was cool and waited her turn.

When it came, she put her documents on the shelf in front of the window and faced a large lady who no doubt had put up with a lot of crap that morning and was in no mood to be trifled with.

“Watcher need, girl,” she asked looking up at her antithesis who was probably about the same age but definitely not from her ‘hood’.

“I need a new Social Security card. My name’s not correct and my birth date is in error. My dad got it wrong when he registered me about 40 years ago,” said Tammy.

“Whaddya mean, got it wrong?”

“Well, for some reason he forgot.”

At this, the large, very Southern woman began to laugh very loudly and slap her large, larded sides and thighs and immediately called out to the other ‘ladies’ in the office, “Get a load of this will ya. This girl’s father didn’t remember her name or her birth date! Ha, ha, ha!”

The rest of the office of large women gathered around the window and joined in the laughter.

“He didn’t even remember her birthday” continued the woman, “or her proper name.”

Now Tammy, or should I correctly say Tamara, has inherited many of our better qualities. She has her mother’s memory, her calm charm, but alas she has her father’s smart mouth.

“Well,” said Tammy. “At least I knew who he was!”

The laughter immediately stopped. The dark faces turned red with anger. This was not a multi-cultural group. No sir!

“Get out of here, girl. Next time you come in you’ll need.....” and the woman reeled off a list of unnecessary documents.

Tammy exited as gracefully as possible and licked her wounds in her large, red, Mercedes convertible. Then she laughed and laughed. I guess she did inherit my sense of humor after all.

You have to know my daughter Tammy to appreciate this..

Forty years ago I got both my daughters their Social Security numbers. Don’t ask me what was on my mind that day, but I not only gave the wrong name for Tamara, but I gave the wrong birth date. She was listed as Tammy and her birth date was five days off.

Several months ago, she was subjected to an I.R.S. audit and her accountant noticed the discrepancy in her records.

“I think you should fix this Social Security data” he said, “and soon!”

At her request and seeing it was my screw-up, I looked up the requirements on the web. Seems as ‘tho all she needed was a current passport and maybe a birth certificate. She collected the documents and checked in by drawing a number at the Downtown Seattle Social Security Office on 8th and Lenora.

Ever been in a Social security Office? Well, I have been there several times in the last five years and the customers are not all savory folk; actually there’s a lot of low-lifes and why they gather there I can only imagine.

Seen Tammy lately? She dresses in Escada, Hermes, Chanel, David Yurman and in her Jimmy Choo’s, she’s almost 6 feet of gorgeous womanhood. Very impressive and she keeps up with her clientele of high-end restaurateurs, local celebrities and the Seattle ‘in’ crowd. Sitting in the Social Security Waiting Room she was definitely out of place catching up on her Blackberry e-mail. But she took a number, was cool and waited her turn.

When it came, she put her documents on the shelf in front of the window and faced a large lady who no doubt had put up with a lot of crap that morning and was in no mood to be trifled with.

“Watcher need, girl,” she asked looking up at her antithesis who was probably about the same age but definitely not from her ‘hood’.

“I need a new Social Security card. My name’s not correct and my birth date is in error. My dad got it wrong when he registered me about 40 years ago,” said Tammy.

“Whaddya mean, got it wrong?”

“Well, for some reason he forgot.”

At this, the large, very Southern woman began to laugh very loudly and slap her large, larded sides and thighs and immediately called out to the other ‘ladies’ in the office, “Get a load of this will ya. This girl’s father didn’t remember her name or her birth date! Ha, ha, ha!”

The rest of the office of large women gathered around the window and joined in the laughter.

“He didn’t even remember her birthday” continued the woman, “or her proper name.”

Now Tammy, or should I correctly say Tamara, has inherited many of our better qualities. She has her mother’s memory, her calm charm, but alas she has her father’s smart mouth.

“Well,” said Tammy. “At least I knew who he was!”

The laughter immediately stopped. The dark faces turned red with anger. This was not a multi-cultural group. No sir!

“Get out of here, girl. Next time you come in you’ll need.....” and the woman reeled off a list of unnecessary documents.

Tammy exited as gracefully as possible and licked her wounds in her large, red, Mercedes convertible. Then she laughed and laughed. I guess she did inherit my sense of humor after all.