Name As Appears On Social Security Card: Fill & Download for Free

The Social Security Administration required me to change my name in order to receive my retirement benefit.That’s strange enough, but here is something even more peculiar:They required me to change my new name to the same as my existing name.Oh yeah, I know: you are wondering how that could even be possible to change your name without actually changing it. A HUGE WTF.I was wondering the same as I stood, drop-jawed, in front of the SSA office manager who said I needed to get a court order officially changing my name to the same name. “But it’s the same name!” I protested. “Sorry,” he replied. It is the only way we can conform our records.”I was beYOND indignation and outrage. I was overcome by morbid curiosity as to how this would all actually work out.NOW, you, dear reader, are probably thinking I am making this all up. But I am not. This story is true.So, I drove across town to the court house and appeared before the clerk of the court, to whom I reported, with great embarrassment, my stupid request to change my name from my name to the same name.“Oh,” the clerk said. “You’ve been to Social Security, haven’t you?”“What?” I gagged, “This happens often?”“All the time,” she said.So she gave me the forms, and a blank page she tore from a legal pad, on which I was to write WHY I needed to make the change.I did all that, and handed her the forms. That’s when I learned it would cost $50 in court fees. I didn’t have $50 with me, so I walked over to a nearby branch of my bank to withdraw that sum in cash. I mumbled something about needing it for a stupid change of name. And the teller winked at me and said, “Social Security, right?”Holy Cow! This was an actual thing!Back in the clerk’s office, I handed over my fifty big ones, and was told it would probably be about two weeks before the court order would be mailed to me. The judge was very busy.So, I took my leave, and on the 12-mile drive back home, I gradually became more and more angry about this state of affairs, and upon arriving home, promptly started typing a bitter letter to the acting Director of Social Security.And that’s when the phone rang. The caller was a staffer at the local SSA office who said they had found a new regulation which enable Social Security to change my name without a court order. I agreed to be there first thing, next morning.Which I was.There, the jolly manager had forms to complete, as I sat in the stiff chair by his desk.“OK,” he said, “What is your current name?” I told him.“And what is the name we need to change it to?” he queried. I told him.“But that’s the same name!” he said, casting a glance my way which indicated his assessment of me as the village idiot.“No shit!” I exploded. “If the new name is the same as the old one, why do we need to do this, at all?”“To keep our records up to date,” he replied, now glowing red with embarrassment.“And another thing,” I hissed through clenched jaws, “I had to pay the goddamned court $50 yesterday for a name change, at your insistence!”“OK, OK,” he went on. “Let me see your social security card.”“I can’t give you that, because your clerk took it from me yesterday and wouldn’t give it back because it had to be destroyed - remember!?”At which point, said clerk slimed her way around the corner, the card betwixt her extended thumb and index finger. Bitch.The manager compared the name on the card with the one on my birth certificate, which I had carried in the previous day to verify my identity, “just in case.”“Where did you get this card?” the manager asked.“From YOU GUYS, when I was about 13 years old!” I answered, testily. “Actually, my father brought it home to me. I needed a social number for my first job.”“But this has the same name as your birth certificate,” the poor man whispered. “But it is not the name we have in our system, for you.”At this point, the blood vessels in my throat were throbbing, my complexion had become a bright crimson, and the perspiration was pouring from my brow. I could hardly contain myself, and was deterred from throwing furniture only by the malevolent stare of a husky, armed security guard whose attention was now focused on my gathering eruption.“Look, let me work this out for you. YOUR people issued the goddamned card, 52 years ago. If your internal records don’t match the name on the card, which is obviously my correct name, then that’s your screw-up, not mine. So change your internal records, OK?And another thing. You might want to think about the evident dozens or maybe hundreds of people you have sent downtown for a name change owing to the same kind of mistakes you have made. The people in the clerk’s office and even the goddamned bank all realize how perfectly ridiculous this is, and how seemingly impossible it is to change.”A period of silence followed, as the manager, whose shirt was now slimy and darkened by his own perspiration, considered this debacle.Finally, he said quietly. “OK, you’re right. It is totally our fault. We’ll change the records, and set up your benefits. I’m giving you a NEW card, too, which will indicate your actual name based on the corrected records. And I’m giving you a check, right now, for $50, to reimburse you for the court fees.And thus, the matter was concluded, on his apology and a handshake. I took my leave, drove back to the court clerk’s office, and canceled the name change.“Glad you got it worked out, sir,” the clerk chirped. “But I’m sorry, we can’t refund the fee.”“No problem,” I replied, and held out my reimbursement check for her to see.End of story. All of it true. Every word of it.[Edit] Additional details and to answer some of the questions in the comments:Lead-up: Something else that made this situation unusual and remarkable was the fact that I had, just the day before, “signed up” for Medicare on-line with no problems whatsoever; it took just a few minutes and went smoothly. Thus I immediately attempted to sign up for Social Security in the same way.If I recall correctly, the screen of questions to properly identify me was the same - “Perfect,” I thought. But then, the “problem” message appeared and I was given an 800 number to call. The woman who answered was prompt, very courteous, helpful and efficient. She instructed me to take my birth certificate to the local SSA office to establish my identity and that the matter would be quickly resolved. Of course, as you now know from reading the above, it didn’t work out, that way. In fact, when I reported her instruction to the local staff, they all nodded “knowingly,” and said the people who handle phone calls just don’t know what they are talking about.Did someone steal my SS number? Evidently, not, inasmuch as there was no record of any other attempts to file under my number.Why didn’t I file a report with someone? In fact, I did complete the letter I had started, and was able to report the matter as resolved in my case, but warned that my case may simply be one example. I did receive a reply from the office of the director, who indicated the matter was being referred for investigation. But I heard nothing more.How did this happen? No way to know, for sure, although Social Security blames a change in computer systems, for it. But here’s what I think: My card was issued before the system records were totally automated. Thus the card I was given was manually typed at the local office, and an entry on some computer source document was made separately. The error in my name either occurred on that document, or when a key punch operator entered it into the master file later. I don’t even know what, exactly, the error actually was.Why didn’t I notice the error long before I filed for benefits? For the simple reason that MY only record was the card itself, which was correct. I had no way to see, and no reason to see, their office records. In addition, there was never a problem matching the number to my name on such forms as income tax returns or health and medical records. Finally, the annual advice from Social Security of my benefits (received long before my eligible age) always showed my correct name and number.DID SOCIAL SECURITY REALLY REIMBURSE ME FOR MY COURT FEES? Yes, they did. And it was voluntary on their part. I never suggested it.WHAT’S THE TAKE AWAY? HOW CAN YOU AVOID A SIMILAR CATASTROPHE? My opinion is that any holder of a social security card should verify name and number with the SSA before eligibility for benefits.Hope any of that helps.

I would like him to find out who Lori Erica Kennedy really was.On Christmas Eve, 2010, Lori drove to her ex-husband’s parents house, stopping her car in their driveway.Then she shot herself in the head.In her house her ex-husband found a strongbox, hidden in a closet: during their marriage, Lori had designated several places around the house she had forbidden him to go. The back of that closet was one of those places.Inside the box, there was a birth and death certificate of a small girl named Becky Sue Turner, a fraudulent application for a Social Security number in the name of Lori Kennedy; documentation related to a name change, from ‘Becky Sue Turner’ to ‘Lori Kennedy’; strange messages, a fake recommendation letter in behalf of Lori from a man who doesn’t exist, and more.Lori ... Becky Sue ... [Social Security Administration investigator Joe] Velling just calls her Jane Doe. He’s paged through the clues to her life over and over.“The reason I can’t find anything prior to 1988 is because she’s very good,” he said.He pulls out a timeline. On one side is Jane Doe’s life as Lori and, briefly, Becky Sue. On the other side is nothing.It took Jane Doe two months to take over the identity of someone she wasn’t. First, she got a copy of Becky Sue’s birth certificate from Bakersfield, Calif. In those days, many counties would just mail a copy to whoever asked.Notably, Becky Sue was born in one state but died in another — it says so in a news clipping. That suggests Jane Doe knew what she was doing, because this kind of separation reduces the chances of being tripped up by some state database.She got an Idaho ID card in Becky Sue’s name in Boise, claiming she was 18 years old.“What this tells me is that Jane Doe was in Idaho in 1988,” Velling said. This tidbit, discovered just last week, strengthens the hypothesis that she was from the Northwest. She also kept a mail drop in Boulder City, Nev., which forwarded her mail to Dallas.After getting the ID, she went to court in Dallas to change her name, legally, from Becky Sue Turner to Lori Erika Kennedy.Next came the most important step: getting a Social Security card, the holy grail of identity theft.Today, most children get Social Security numbers at birth. Back then, you could easily get your card as a teen. That’s what Jane Doe did. She became Lori Kennedy, a blank slate, with government ID.“Once I have that name change and the Social Security number, I’m really a whole new person,” Velling said.The whole process took less than two months.As Lori, she got into college without providing any high-school transcripts. “She took the GED,” Velling said. “No clue there.” She graduated from the University of Texas in Arlington with a degree in business.He tracked down a few friends and colleagues from years ago. One said she had been working as a dancer at a “gentleman’s club” in the early 1990s, according to Velling. A clue, perhaps. But no one he found knew anything about Lori before 1988.In the strongbox there also were letters of reference from an employer and a landlord. And the scribbles: North Hollywood police. 402 months. Ben Perkins, an attorney.Was she in legal trouble? Facing 402 months in prison? Velling chased the leads.The job reference appears to be bogus, signed by someone who never existed.Lawyer Ben Perkins? He had no recollection of her.Velling ran photos of Jane Doe through every facial-recognition database he knew. Nothing. He sent her fingerprints to the FBI. They didn’t match anyone in their criminal files.“If she was facing prison time,” he thought, “you would have thought there would be fingerprints.”He had the fingerprints compared with those on file with the Department of Homeland Security. Nothing.He learned from medical records that she had breast implants. And for a moment, Velling thought he had a solid lead — implants, he learned, have serial numbers, and serial numbers lead to doctors’ records. But it appeared she got them after she had become Lori. And besides, she was cremated.“This case is so difficult,” he said, “because the trail’s dead.”[1]Pictures of the contents of the strongbox can be seen in this gallery of the Seattle Times.Who was she?Footnotes[1] She stole another’s identity, and took her secret to the grave. Who was she?

I was born in the United States and I don’t have a birth certificate. When I was 21, my parents were able to obtain a “Certificate of Registration of Birth” for me. A county clerk of court issued it, based on a sworn statement by a great-aunt who was present at my birth, and on an insurance policy issued when I was two years old.Despite the lack of a birth certificate:- At age 16 I got a social security card.- At age 18 I registered for the draft (Selective Service).- Later that year I enlisted in the U.S. Army.- At age 20 I was issued a U.S. diplomatic passport.- At age 20 and beyond for several years, I held a U.S. Top Secret Clearance and a SEATO Top Secret Clearance.Without any proof whatever that I was a citizen.For the record, I was born more than seven decades ago, in a state where birth certificates were required at the time.How did this happen? According to my father, the physician who attended my birth had been awake for about two days when I finally emerged, late on a Sunday evening, in a private apartment.The physician went home to catch up on his sleep. He forgot to register my birth. Shortly afterward, he was arrested. Charge: Helping unwed mothers place babies up for adoption (it was illegal then). Shortly afterward, he died in prison.How did I get a Social Security card? I just asked for one. Life was simpler then.How did I register for Selective Service, which required a birth certificate without exception? I got to the SS office about five minutes to five on a Friday afternoon. The young lady there was new, apparently not well trained, and already had her pocketbook in her hand to go home.She said, “But you have to have a birth certificate.” I said, “But I don’t have one. Never have had one. But I have a Social Security card and a driver’s license.” She said, “Well, I guess that will do.”How did I get a passport two years later? I was one of three volunteers for a six-month mission to “somewhere”. (At that time, our destination was Top Secret.) We were in Korea. The much older Lieutenant Colonel in command of our three-man team very definitely did not want to go somewhere on this planet, make a night parachute drop, and spend six months fighting somebody, unless I was with him. (The third guy on the team was a dud.)We sat up late one night while he memorized every detail of my early life. Parents’ names, friends, places I’d lived — everything.When we appeared before the U.S. Consul in Seoul to get our passports, he solemnly swore that he had been stationed near where I was born and knew my parents well at the time. He swore to all sorts of details about my birth and early life. I got my passport, we flew out, assumed civilian identities, slipped away to that somewhere, and lived to tell about it.Why did I suddenly get a Certificate of Registration of Birth a few months later? The consul in Seoul, hesitant (or perhaps suspicious) had made my passport temporary — it expired in six months unless I produced proof of U.S. citizenship.As it happens, the country we three arrived at (which we entered on a civilian airline, in civilian clothes, with passports, like tourists) knew my passport was temporary.About two months before the passport was to expire, the government threatened to deport me when my passport expired. The U.S. Embassy said the U.S. wouldn’t accept me. Not only that, the embassy wouldn’t issue a permanent passport. Reasons: I had no proof I was a U.S. citizen. Ergo, I was soon to be a stateless citizen.Did that focus my attention? Yes. I started sending air mail letters and telegrams to my parents. I needed proof of birth, or very soon I would be The Man Without a Country.So, with the great-aunt fortunately still alive, and the insurance document, they got the belatedly-issued Certificate of Registration of Birth — more than 21 years after I was born.You better believe, I have three copies of that Certificate. And one of them is in a Safe Deposit box.