Name Problem

The first time that I knew that my new name was a problem came as quite a shock. I can honestly say that I didn't think that names were a big deal. I was wrong. Apparently, I was very wrong.

This was the first of many times that people have shared with me the problem with being a hyphenate.

Upon the solid advice of my husband, I decided to visit the Social Security office to legally change in name in a very timely fashion. I had taken a few days to resolutely decide on the hyphenate (which I had), so now it was time to make things official. The Social Security office was the first step. That new card is required to take care of all other paperwork (drivers license, car registration, credit cards, any legal documents, etc).


Let me just say that visiting the Social Security office is an adventure in and of itself. A friend of mine described it as very french and bureaucratic. With many of friends spending time in France over the last several years, I knew exactly what she meant and it proved to be a great description. I entered the office (my mom had generously agreed to go with me) and took my number and waited for my turn.



An hour and a half later, we were still waiting. I called into the office to let them know that my "quick trip" to the Social Security office was dragging on. I wondered why they had smirked as a left saying "it will only take a minute. I'll be right back."

The place was packed. It wasn't possible to leave a buffer seat between yourself and the next party. We were all elbow to elbow. Waiting.

I looked around the room. Was anyone else here changing their name? I'm a pretty curious person, so I began surveying the room. I looked around for someone else on a post-wedding high. Someone examining/cleaning their wedding ring. Someone exceptionally tan and manicured. No takers.

And then it was my turn. My number was called. My mom and I headed up to the counter.

What can we do for you today?

I'm here to get a new Social Security card, I chirped. I just got married and I'm here to change my name.

Okay. I'll need you to fill out this paperwork to begin the process. She slid me the name change application form and a pen across the desk.

I begin to carefully print my new name. No spelling errors for this! First name. Katherine. Middle Name. Elizabeth. Last Name. G-R-E-E-N-E-hyphen-O-W-E-N-S.

It was very satisfying. My own last name hybrid. I doubted that their were many people floating around there with that name. I slid the paper back across the desk.

The woman looked at the paper, then at me and then at the paper. That's a lot of name, she said.

I guess it is.

You do understand that this will be your legal name?
Yes.

So you will have to write out this long thing every time you fill out any paperwork.

Yes.

You will have to include it as part of your signature.

Yes? Was she trying to talk me out of it?

Are you sure?

Yes.

Very sure.

Yes.

You can only get 10 Social Security cards in your lifetime.

Okay?

So if you change your mind about this name, you'll use up one of your cards.

Okay? Now I was getting defensive. She was crossing the line. I dare say that this was not information she passed along to every bride.

So you are sure?

Yes. Absolutely sure.

(Big sigh) Okay.

I left quickly with my temporary card. Was this how it was going to be at every turn of the name change journey? I left the Social Security office head swimming, not quite able to make sense of this encounter. Was she being mean? Was I being overly sensitive? It wasn't as if she was yelling at me. It was just that tone. She just seemed disapproving somehow.

I doubt she would have felt the need to say all of this if I were becoming Mrs. Katherine Owens. Was this really so weird? Was I making some kind of mistake that everyone could see but me?

~warmly~
Katherine