Welcome to Social Security AKA ‘Americans Last’

By Joni Halpern

“Go ahead and take my place in line,” said the old man in front of me as we stood recently in a long queue of people waiting to enter a local Social Security Administration (SSA) Office.  “I’ve been here since 7 o’clock this morning,” he told me.  “I can’t take it anymore.”

He had just climbed out of the ground cover into which he had fallen after one of his bandaged legs had finally given way.  He had been waiting in line to schedule an appointment so he could return at some later date to resolve a Social Security problem of which he had been notified by mail some weeks earlier.

Americans who need help from SSA staff members cannot enter an SSA office without an appointment.  The trick is to schedule the appointment.  In the long line of people I met that day at the SSA office, every single one had tried to get an appointment by calling the highly publicized phone number listed on the SSA website and on every other communication issued by SSA.  Most had also tried to get an appointment by going online.  When that failed, their last resort was to go in person to an SSA office to wait in line to schedule an appointment.

Most of those who stand in line at SSA on any given day are disabled either by age or infirmity.  Not surprising, since SSA is a federal agency charged with overseeing Social Security retirement and disability benefits, among other important functions.

Going to the SSA office in person poses special problems for an aging and disabled clientele.  Many are very low-income and depend upon SSA benefits as economic lifelines.  These folks often rely on public transit, so walking the distance from a bus or trolley stop to an SSA office is its own hardship.  Waiting outside an office, without even bare benches upon which to rest, is another.

Arranging to see SSA staffers has not always been this difficult.  But in the last few years, lengthy waits have become customary, as SSA has been forced to diminish its very capable staff by failing to replace those who retire or leave the service. Now, however, new efforts by Elon Musk and his Dept. of Government Efficiency (DOGE), have led to more than 2,500 SSA employees taking a buyout and another several thousand slated for layoffs in the near future.  A minimum of 40 field offices have lost at least 25% of their staff, while some have lost much more.

Also in the works are closures of many local field offices.  Cases from those offices, as well as from offices that will remain open but are grossly understaffed, then become the responsibility of other offices, with the result being that every office is overburdened and understaffed.  Experts say it takes about four years to train an SSA staffer, due to the intricacy and complexity of program regulations and procedures.  If this were not so, then the “fraud and waste” Mr. Trump falsely says have been rampant in SSA would actually be real.  Instead, data from fiscal years 2015 through 2022 show that SSA staffers have limited the rate of overpayments and underpayments to less than one percent of total benefits paid.  DOGE’s savage cuts will undoubtedly ruin that remarkable record.

Mr. Trump has promised repeatedly to protect Social Security benefits, but his minions have found innumerable ways to reduce benefits and close cases for people who are actually entitled to them.  The Administration has simply increased the obstacles to getting help with applications or case problems.  Issues that arise in Social Security benefits cases have regulatory deadlines for resolution by answer or appeal.  If a person cannot talk to SSA staff at some point, there is no way to resolve the problem within those deadlines, leading to benefit reduction or case closures.  Knowing how to resolve SSA program issues that arise requires knowledge of regulations, policies and procedures.  Most people have no idea of these intricacies.  Nonprofit, non-governmental agencies who otherwise might provide expertise for low-income clients, cannot keep up with the demand.  Thus, if you can’t reach someone in the SSA office, you can’t solve the problem.

Call from people needing help from SSA staff have skyrocketed in the short time Mr. Trump has been in office.  By the end Mr. Trumps’ first three months in office, for example, call volume to SSA offices increased to about 4 million per month.  The AI call answering system that was supposed to increase efficiency instead became an “Iron Dome” deterring callers from making contact with a real human being.  The only option then was to stand in line at the SSA office to make an appointment.

On the particular day I entered the long line at the SSA office, I asked the man in front of me (before he toppled over) how long he thought the wait would be.  I figured I’d wait there another two or three hours, but still be able to get inside before closing time at 4 p.m. to make an appointment for a later date.

The fellow replied, “The security guard came out a few minutes ago and told us we still have a four-hour wait.”

There were beads of sweat on the man’s face; his cheeks were bright red.  He wiped his wet forehead with his hand and shook his head.  “I don’t know what they think we’re supposed to do.  I’ve been trying for days to get an appointment by phone, but the damned thing keeps hanging up on me.”

A little ahead of him in the line, a young man stood next to an elderly man, “I was waiting on the phone almost three hours,” he said, “and they hung up on me.  I had to take off work to bring my dad here so he can get an appointment.  We’ve been here since 6:30 this morning.”

The sun beat down as we stood outside the building.  There was no shade along the waiting line, no benches, no chairs, no water fountain in sight.  No effort whatsoever was made by those inside to see if any of the crippled, weak or otherwise struggling people in line needed any help.  Even when the man in front of me fell over, neither the security guard nor anyone else from inside the glass-walled building opened the front door even a crack to see if he was okay.

I walked to the front door and knocked; the door was locked to all but those with  appointments.  The security guard opened the door a crack.

“What is it?”  he asked.

“A guy just fell over in line,” I explained.  “Don’t you have some folding chairs or a place where disabled people can sit while they are waiting in this line?”

“Is he still there?” the security guard asked, peering around me into the distance for the guy who had fallen.

“No, he left,” I answered.

“We don’t have any chairs,” the guard said.  “We can’t provide anything like that.  But if you call this number,” he said as he pointed to the SSA “800” number printed on the front door, “you can make an appointment faster, and you won’t have to stand in this line.”

“But that’s what I’ve tried to do!  They keep hanging up on me,” I said, trying to mask my frustration lest he shut the door on me.

“Yeah, that’s what we all tried to do!” added someone who overheard me.  “I waited four hours on the phone and they cut me off!”

“I waited almost three hours twice!” said another person.

“I’m waiting on that phone line right now!” somebody else chimed in.  “I’ve been waiting the whole time I’ve been in line!”

“I know, I know,” said the security guard.  “You just have to keep waiting.”  He looked out over the line to a place where people had gathered under a big shade tree.  “You need to make the line along the sidewalk,” he warned.  “You can’t stand under the tree.”

“Well, it’s hot out here!” someone called angrily from under the tree.  “I’m standing here  until you call me.  I can’t take this heat.”

“Me too!” shouted a gray-haired woman who was leaning on a trash can shaded by the tree.  “It’s not our fault we can’t get through on the phone!”

Everyone in line grumbled agreement.  I went back to my place in line.  An old man who been sitting on a three-legged portable stool rose from it with difficulty.  Saying nothing, he tapped me on the shoulder as I leaned on my cane.  He gestured an invitation for me to take his place on the little stool.

“I couldn’t take your chair,” I told him.  “I haven’t been in line as long as you.”

“Take it,” he said.  “I need to stand a while.”

Gratefully, I accepted his offer.  After about 20 minutes, I saw him shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  I stood up and handed him back his seat.

As we continued to wait, I spoke to almost everyone in line.  They had all been unsuccessful scheduling an appointment either online or by phone.  A few had failed to get an appointment even after going in person to an SSA office, where closing time had occurred before they could be seen.

“Why are they firing people and cutting budgets?” one man asked aloud.  “I thought they were supposed to be making things more efficient.”

“I heard that too,” said a young woman who could barely walk.  “They just don’t want us to get this money anymore.  They want to take it away.  Why are they doing this to us?  It’s not like I don’t want to work.  I didn’t ask to be disabled.”

“They don’t care about us,” said another woman.  “We’re the last people they care about.  We’re not rich, and we depend on the government for income.”

By now, nearly three hours had passed, and newcomers had entered the line behind us.  Some folks with appointments went directly to the front door and were allowed in.  Others who had been served emerged.  No one who exited was smiling.  One woman stomped out of the office, complaining, “I had an appointment for 10 o’clock and I’ve been waiting inside for hours!”

A man wearing a suit and a lanyard identification tag emerged from the office and addressed us line-dwellers.

“Good afternoon,” he said politely.  “I work in this office.  I know you’ve all been waiting a long time, and chances are, it will be a lot longer.  We probably won’t be able to serve all of you who are waiting,” he said.  “So if you’ll just call this number – ”

He got no further before the crowd of hot, sweaty, angry line-dwellers shouted him down.            “We’ve already tried that number!”  “It doesn’t work!”  “You try it!”  He raised his hands to quiet everyone.

“Okay,” he said, his tone conciliatory.  “They promised this AI phone system and the website technology would make it easier and more efficient to get the help you need. But the technology has failed in its mission.  That’s why all of you are standing in this line.  But here’s the problem.  This building used to have almost 30 people working here.  Now there are only three.  Three people.  We needed a lunch hour, so things slowed up a bit during that hour.  Now we’re all back from lunch, and the line should go a little bit quicker.  But I still don’t know if we’ll be able to get to all of you today.”

The line-dwellers moaned.  “What are we supposed to do?” many asked.

“You’ll just have to wait,” said the staffer.  He raised his hand as if he had thought to point out the “800” on the door, but quickly lowered it and said, “That’s all you can do.”

“Can we use the bathroom in there?” someone in the crowd asked.

“Yes, you can,” the staffer replied.  “Knock on the door and tell the security guard you need to use the restroom.  He’ll let you in.”

As soon as the staffer had retreated inside, a line-dweller stepped forward and knocked on the front door, gaining permission to use the restroom from the security guard.  It was about 15 minutes before she resumed her place in line, advising all of us, “If any of you feel you’re getting too hot or tired, let me tell you:  That restroom is clean, cool, and quiet.  If you need a break, that’s where you should go.”

A shorter line quickly formed near the door as people took her advice, taking refuge in the restrooms, then emerging several minutes later looking refreshed.

It was now almost 15 minutes until closing time.  Perhaps sensing the desperation in those behind her in line, the woman first in line decided we should assign ourselves numbers representing our line position, so we would know who should have priority to enter as closing time neared.  She went down the line, calling out our assigned numbers.

Suddenly, at ten minutes before closing, the security guard opened the door.

“We’ll take some of you folks now!” he announced.  The Number One woman hobbled to the door, squeezing herself into the space of the partially opened door.

“I’m first!” she said loudly.  “It’s about time.  I got here at 6:30 this morning!”

“I’m next!” said a tall fellow with a full shock of white hair.

“No, I’m next!” someone else claimed.

“No, you’re not!” said the young man who had waited since early morning with his dad.  “My dad was here before you.  He just stepped out of line because he had to rest in the car for a few minutes!”

“That’s right!” someone shouted.  “I was there when he left.  His kid asked me to hold his place in line.”

“All right!  Take it easy,” said the security guard.  “I’ll let four of you in now.  The rest of you will have to wait.”

“But it’s six minutes to closing!” someone complained.  “What happens if we can’t get inside today.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” the security guard shrugged.  “Unless you want to call this number,” and he pointed once again to the “800” number on the front door.  “It’s supposed to be faster –.”

A chorus of people interrupted him with an angry shout, “WE ALREADY TRIED THAT!  IT DOESN’T WORK!”

The chosen few entered the office, while the rest of us grumped and fidgeted.  A moment later, an SSA staffer emerged.

“I’m sorry to say, we’re not going to be letting anyone else inside,” he announced.

“What do you mean?  You’re not supposed to close for three more minutes!” the man in front of the line shouted. “I’ve been here seven hours!”

“Sir, we have four people we have not served yet who are still waiting inside the office,” the staffer said apologetically.  “I have to make sure we finish helping them before we close the office.  If I let in anyone else, we’re not going to be able to make that deadline.”  He pointed to the “800” number on the door.  “Come back tomorrow or call the…”

The line-dwellers finished his sentence, “—NUMBER ON THE DOOR!  IT DOESN’T WORK!”

The staffer retreated wordlessly.  The front door closed for the day, two minutes before four o’clock.  Number Five in line, a frail young man, sat down on the sidewalk in a cross-legged position and put his head in hands.  People walked around him as they left the office grounds.

One woman who had been at the back of the line stood still, blew her breath out of her cheeks and said defeatedly, “Is this what they mean by ‘America First’?  I think it means Americans last.”