as an americorps volunteer, i qualify for food stamps. regardless of how you may feel about the welfare system in america, if you were a volunteer in americorps, scraping by on the poverty line, you too would apply for the assistance you so rightly deserve.
now i'll tell you something: this was no easy feat. in fact, i now have a very intimate idea of what its like to live as a low-income person and the structural barriers that stand in your way to obtaining public benefit assistance.
what i love about the fact that i had to go through this experience is that it is one of the core premises of social work: starting where the client is. one of the most fundamental skills in social work is empathy. though i feel this is a skill that can not easily be learned, instead it is something inherent to we, "the socially aware", understanding that you must learn to put yourself in a client's shoes, to imagine their environment and daily challenges: this is the best way to work with a person to help meet their needs.
part of my job at the nonprofit i work for is to work with persons of low to moderate income communities to connect them to the public benefit assistance programs to which they qualify. i can now share with them my story of my odyssey to DHS, my experience with my caseworker, my harrowing tale that i will now share with you.
i first applied for food stamps 2 days after my first day on the job. 2 weeks later i still had not heard anything regarding my application. i tried not to worry that for some reason my application was incomplete and i tried to spend little out of pocket on groceries. i finally received a letter detailing my appointment time as well as the paperwork that i needed to supply in order to be considered. this was a hefty list. the appointment they gave me was for when i was going to be in DC for training and i was instructed to call to change my appointment before that date or risk being flat-out denied assistance. so i called.
and i called.
and i called about 35 times, listening to the incessant ringing with no connection to a voicemail. so to not risk being denied, i decided i should go in person to change my appointment. easy enough, no? it took 2 buses and about 40 minutes to get there: a system i had not yet navigated and in a town i never really intended to go to. but i went. and after standing in line and having my first frightening DHS experience, my appointment was changed.
my appointment was at 11:15am. i left on hour and 15 minutes early: just to be safe. in preparation i re-studied the bus system, detailed my exact route, researched people's DHS experiences online, investigated the ins and outs of the public aid interview process. so i left the office, fairly confident that all would go smoothly.
hiccup #1: the bus never came. i waited and waited next to a shell station right next to the sign for the 97 bus to skokie. there was traffic and construction all around me. it was hot and dusty and i was starting to get nervous. it was almost 10:45. i was feverishly refreshing bus tracker as it fed me lies that buses were approaching.
a group was forming around me. first, just one woman who asked me the time every 2-3 minutes. we chatted and were soon bffs and allies in our frustration with the CTA. soon there was a group of about 7 people standing around me. a very diverse group of 7, to say the least.
we were all going to DHS.
fed up with waiting for the bus that never came and as the youngest and most agile one in the group, i took it upon myself to start calling the shots: we would walk the just over 1.5 miles to DHS.
i was like moses as i led my posse towards our destination - in pursuit of food stamps and angry case workers.
hiccup #2: i got in the wrong line. i waited for about 15 minutes in the line that seemed right for my situation. "stand in this line if you need to see your caseworker". well, i did. it seemed logical. boy, was i wrong. the lady behind the counter just looked at me with a stare that could stop a bullet and said, "wrong. line." she shoved my paperwork back in my hands and yelled "NEXT" with no direction for where i should go. so i picked a different line. success.
the waiting game. i didn't bring a book or a magazine. i couldn't use my phone as there was a security guard roaming the room berating those who tried. there were signs that threatened the implosion of the world if your phone were to ring. so i entertained myself as best i could by making friends around me.
there were 15 different babies crying. so many different languages spoken around me it could put the UN to shame. caseworkers massacring the last names of client after client. "NEXT". doors slamming. friends reuniting. it was humid and loud.
i engaged in a very broken english conversation with a guy next to me who was sketching in a notebook. he was incredible and i told him so. he shared his dream of wanting to be a tattoo artist. i hope he does.
i witnessed 2 identical twin sisters, roughly age 60, linked arm in arm wearing identical outfits of michael jackson t-shirts, long denim skirts, tube socks and sandals stand in line together. quite the sight.
there was one really grumpy caseworker with a sour attitude that verbally berated several people and acted so unprofessionally i was afraid to know if he was a social worker. each time he came out to call a name i was both scared and sure that he was going to call mine. 1 hour went by. another hour. and then mr. grumpy came out, picked up the microphone, and said "ROSEN". like rawsen. the wrong way. but i dared not correct him.
and so not to piss him off further, i scooted my way to the front and followed him through the door. he said not one word to me until we sat down in his office until he asked what i was there for. after telling him i was there to apply for food stamps he looked at me square in the eye and said, "you don't look poor".
uhm. excuse me?
and because i've never been able to keep my mouth shut (ask my mother), i replied, "and what does a poor person look like?"
and to this, mr. grumpy smiled. i did not reciprocate.
we sat in silence while he punched numbers, rifled through my paperwork, consulted other caseworkers. and finally said, "you qualify", handed me a paper outlining my monthly balance, and not so politely told me we were done. elation!
i have now used my food stamps a few times to purchase groceries and i love it. though i was nervous the first time i swiped my card, for fear that for some reason a loud speaker might go off blaring in false accusation, "WHITE MIDDLE CLASS COLLEGE GRAD CHEATING THE SYSTEM AND SINGLE HANDEDLY RAISING YOUR TAX DOLLARS", i have learned to embrace the beauty of my link card.
i am not ashamed to be utilizing the public benefits to which i qualify. i have noticed that it elicits interesting reactions from cashiers (for instance tonight the lady asked me just above a whisper after i swiped my card "are you using food stamps?" accusation dripping from "you" and her volume decreasing in confusion and a failed attempt at privacy on "food stamps"), but i have learned a great deal and i feel as though my experience will be an asset to the clients i help with this process in the future.
and, if anything, it makes for a great story.
