Take My $255, Please
My very deepest sympathies
go to my friend Neil on the death of his mother, who was 87
years old. Losing a loved one is a traumatic event. It is a
time when memories of a life well lived keep jumping out at us
at unexpected times and places. We may walk into a closet and
find an article of clothing that belonged to our mom. We may
have to stop and deal with the flood of memories of seeing
that old dress or pair of shoes.
We seek closure as the
counselor would say but it never quite comes. Over time,
however, grief turns to good memories of great times and
sometimes of difficult times. Memories evolve into thoughts of
legacy and how a departed loved one affected our lives.
The immediate weeks and
months after the death of a loved one should be a time of
remembrance and a time for peaceful coming to grips with what
has happened. It is of course a time to deal with the
inevitable crop of end-of-life issues, often involving
insurance companies, real-estate transactions, the inevitable
horde of orbiting lawyers, and, yes, government agencies.
This article, however, is
about one government agency encounter following the death of
my friends loved one. It is really about a double death the
death of person we love, known in Social Security parlance as
a recipient, and the death of common sense
which results from the blunt trauma injury of crashing
into a bureaucracy. It could take the form of a letter to the
Commissioner of Social Security which
might read something like this:
Dear Commissioner, I want to
share with you the story of my recent encounter with the
Social Security Administration over the matter of the $255
death benefit claimed as a result of the death of my beloved
mother. Mother was many things in life, but you may know her
best perhaps as a recipient. She was a client of the Social
Security Administration, arguably a customer. So is my
father who is now 90. In the worst of all possible times,
immediately following the death of a loved one, our encounter
with Social Security required crawling over broken glass. It
required an encounter of the bureaucratic type which should
hardly be cause for additional grief. This is especially true
since many of the claimants of the $255 death benefit are
themselves frail senior citizens, perhaps with reduced or
impaired cognitive abilities.
When things are at their
worst for a customer, organizations should be at their very
best, at their most sympathetic, and at their greatest
simplicity in terms of transactions. Bearing all that in mind,
here is what happened when I flew across the country to help
my father cope with the many matters resulting from the death
of his wife of 65 years. One of those was the Social Security
death benefit claim.
First, we found out that a
claim had to be made in person. It could not be made online.
We noted, ironically, that you could apply for Social Security
pension benefits online without ever stepping into the office.
We noted that the pension benefits may pay out thousands of
dollars a month for decades and it can be done online, at
home. For the $255 benefit, however, the process required a
personal visit to the Social Security office. Surely, the full
weight of the federal government could be somehow brought to
bear to make it possible for this claim to be made from the
quiet solitude of a grieving persons home.
In any event, I drove my
father to the office where we had the pleasure and privilege
of waiting for more than two hours to be helped. Of course
during these two hours there were many other people in the
office frustrated, sad and worried about the impact of the
death of their loved one on benefits. During this period my
father and I overheard many people sharing their tragic
stories, which of course we found neither therapeutic nor
desirable at this particular time.
In any event, after our
enjoyable wait we were seen by a very
helpful person. She was so helpful that she told us,
after various forms were filled out, that we had to come back
and visit again. This time we had to bring an original or
certified copy of the marriage license back to the Social
Security office in order to claim the $255.
Needless to say a marriage
of 65 years duration, complete with migration from the old
country to America, is not amenable or consistent with a
modern electronic home filing system. After all of that
effort, I drove my father back home amidst head shaking and
considerable moaning and groaning. Later, while going through
a box of photos, I found a weathered original marriage license
now in three different pieces reflecting the obvious signs of
being 65 years of age.
This was more than twice the
age of the very nice clerk. She informed us that the marriage
license was a requirement, because, after all, we may be
claiming the $255 for a 65-year marriage that never really
existed. After all, an affidavit signed under penalty of
perjury, on behalf of a grieving 87-year-old widower was not
enough.
Yet again, we journeyed to
the Social Security office, marriage license in hand and
presented it for the necessary processing. I am sure that the
death benefit will appear in a timely manner and that my
father will come to forget the memories of our encounter, as
well as my repeated offer to reduce the intentional infliction
of pain and suffering by paying the $255 myself.
I do have another
well-intended suggestion, dear commissioner, besides the
automated processing option, to help make my fathers and my
experience one of the last such painful ones in Social
Securitys long history. It would be a recommendation
that rules and processes be better mixed with the need for
simplicity, tolerance and understanding.
Perhaps a process
improvement seminar could be held to review this kind of
experience and look for ways to make it simpler such as
submitting online claims for the $255. Perhaps accepting a
sworn affidavit, even one signed off electronically, would be
within the realm of scientific and bureaucratic possibility. I
would recommend that the facilitator of the session, which
should be mandatory for all higher-level Social Security
administrators, be at least 87 years old. I further recommend
that the seminar last several days and that it begin with an
unanticipated two-hour period of waiting before anything
happens.
Finally, to get credit for
attendance at this mandatory seminar, perhaps connected to any
pay increases, all attendees should be required to return
after several days with an original or certified copy of their
birth certificate and a physicians note to establish that
they were actually alive. Thank you for your attention.
Sincerely, A friend of
the HR Doctors
In life, and even in
bureaucracies, be at your best when things are at their
worst.
Phil Rosenberg The HR
Doctor http://www.hrdr.net/
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