Ma recently changed banks. Dad said he would call social security to notify them of the change. I was able to find the phone number for her union office. Dad said he would call them too.
After a week, the calls hadn't been made. I wasn't sure if he just didn't want to be bothered or if it was his way of paying Ma back for all her griping. She wouldn't make the calls herself. And he wasn't going to call. A catch-22.
A friend told me, he was probably confused by the automated answering menu. Maybe. I found myself making phone calls and chasing down paper work for direct deposit of her social security check and pension check. I had her sit by the telephone with me so I could hand the phone to her so she could verify her identity. These people don't want to talk to me. The Privacy Act is good and bad.
I was relaying my irritation to Himself. Ma for all her claims to be Ms. Independent is very dependent. There really is no reason she can't make these calls herself.
"I don't like to talk on the telephone," I mimicked in Ma's whiny voice. "I don't know what to say."
She might not like to talk on the telephone, but she has no qualms about picking up the phone and making calls to Auntie Rose's buddies in ^#$^# * Jamaica!