One of the many challenges of being unemployed is finding productive things to do with your time. Normally, I am pretty good at this - I have a habit of filling idle time with helpful and interesting pursuits such as going to church, exercise, scrapbooking, blogging, and learning additional languages. I am also a stress cleaner, which means that my space is pretty much spotless when I'm under pressure. Unfortunately, my scrapbooking supplies are in storage, my mother gets antsy when I clean her space, and I simply do not have the motivation to pick up Russian or Greek. Daily Mass is only thirty minutes long, and Texas is so bloody hot that I can only go running after sunset. Plus there's only so much time you can spend blogging before you sound like a self-absorbed prat.
So, after my first round of interviews turned out to be fruitless, I decided to try my hand at public assistance. My mother warned me that I would probably not get anything, but I figured that I had as good a shot as anybody, as I had no job, no car, and an AGI of 0 on last year's tax return (yay, foreign-earned income exclusions!). I had already spoken with the Texas Workforce Commission and confirmed that I was ineligible for unemployment (since we worked abroad in 2013 and didn't contribute to unemployment insurance in Texas). My goal was just to be honest and straightforward and see what, if anything, I was eligible to receive.
In my opinion, public assistance has an unfairly bad reputation, particularly here in the South. Growing up, I heard all kinds of stories about people who are perpetually on welfare, who just keep having children because they didn't want to work and each additional dependent meant another check, and welfare queens who could make a fortune because they knew how to "milk the system." My sojourn into "the system" confirms what I already suspected about such stereotypes - that most of them are untrue and based on political rhetoric (which naturally makes them kind of ridiculous). The "welfare queen" anecdote came from story time with Reagan in the 70s and was based on one brilliant and dangerous con artist who operated under dozens of aliases to collect public assistance. Most of the poor have children they can't afford because of ignorance about family planning and lack of social standing to negotiate safe sex, and the high rates of abortion among poor women confirm that most of them don't want to "keep popping out babies." I know too many people run ragged by their own small children to believe that someone who is destitute would consciously have another one to receive a negligible amount of public assistance that winds up being a net negative economically anyway.
But I digress.
Texas has a handy website, "yourtexasbenefits.com," that allows you to apply for multiple public assistance programs in one place. (The fact that it only works in Firefox is less handy, but I got used to playing with different browsers in Korea.) After putting in all of my information and selecting the programs I wanted to apply for, I received a letter in the mail a few days later that I would be contacted for a phone interview to verify my claims. The call came the following week.
Lady on the phone: Hi, is this Jessica Ker...Keralis?
me: Yes.
Lady: This is your phone interview for your benefits application. I see that you and your husband...Joel? She pronounces it "ho-el," i.e., the Spanish pronunciation.
me: Joel. I correct her.
Lady: Joel, sorry. I see that you both are on this application. Does he live with you?
me: No, not right now.
Lady: ...He doesn't live with you?
me: No. He's staying with his parents in Nebraska right now.
Lady: Okay, well if he doesn't live with you, he can't be on your application.
me: I figured, but the online application made me include him because he's on my tax return.
Lady: Oh. Well, he can't be on your application if he doesn't live with you.
me: That's fine.
Lady: Okay, let me just fix that...and you're not eligible for Medicaid, so...it looks like you're only eligible for food stamps.
me: Okay.
She then explains to me that I'll receive my SNAP (Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program) card and further instructions in the mail, and then hangs up. Sure enough, the card comes, letting me know that I'll receive monthly deposits on the card from May to August. Then another letter (my "First and Final Notice") comes in explaining that I have to go to a place called "Workforce Solutions" to get help finding work "no later than MAY 28, 2014" in order to continue receiving benefits. Having nothing better to do, I head in the day before for my first day of "job search counseling."
After I fill out yet another online resume, the guy at intake gives me one of those electronic buzzers (like the ones you get at restaurants) and tells me that I am welcome to use one of the computers while I wait for my "job search counselor." I take a seat at one of the cubicles and study the room. It's mid-afternoon and the place is busy, with all manner of people on the computers and talking with agents. Finally, my buzzer buzzes, and I sit down with a friendly older lady named Suzanne. We exchange pleasantries, and then she logs into my job search profile. "Let's see what you've got he- oh, wow," she mutters. "You've got quite a lot of experience."
I smile and give a brief synopsis of my current situation - that I am a public health professional by training who has just come back from living and working abroad, and that I am looking to re-enter my field and find work while my husband works on his Master's degree at UT. I explain that I have been applying for public health positions with the state health department and also on the federal level, as I have been professionally boarded by PHS and am trying to secure an officer's commission. I assure her that I am applying for relevant jobs on a daily basis and have been doing so since March, and that I have had multiple interviews already with more lined up, but that it is just taking a while for me to find something. Her eyes continue to widen as I chatter on. "So, I know that you all are here to help people to get back on their feet to find work, but I'm guessing I'm not your typical applicant," I finish.
"Wow," she utters.
She's very curious about my experience teaching in Korea, so we chat for a bit about my reasons for going abroad and my long-term career goals. To my relief, she's sympathetic to the difficulties of the job market but seems confident that I will find something soon. "It looks like you don't really need my help," she says with a smile. She then explains that I have to fill out a weekly job-search log for the next four weeks to verify that I am actively looking for work, and after that - if I haven't found any employment - I will have to start doing community service.
Over the next four weeks, I dutifully fill out the log and turn it in, continuing to apply and interview as outlined in Part One. Finally, I get another letter in the mail telling me that I "must accept a community service job to earn [my] food stamps." I head in to Workforce Solutions with my final job search log on Friday (the 20th) and, after visiting briefly with Suzanne to update her on my job search efforts, I sit down with Sofia to discuss my community service.
Sofia: So, because you've been job searching for four weeks and haven't found anything, you have to start doing community service.
me: Okay. When do I have to start?
Sofia: Next week. You'll go to the volunteer orientation on Tuesday, and they'll tell you what to do from there.
me: I can't go on Tuesday. I have a job interview in Austin on Tuesday, so I won't be back in town until that night. Can I go the following week?
Sofia: Well, by then you'll be into July, so you'll be penalized by losing your food stamps.
me: But...I have a job interview.
Sofia: What time is your interview?
me: It's at 3, but it's in Austin. I have an interview on Monday, too, so I'll be there for two days.
Sofia: Okay, but if you can't make the orientation, you'll lose your food stamps for July.
me: Look, I understand that you guys have a system here - the whole idea is to do volunteer work to gain experience that will help me find a job. I understand that. But I'm a public health analyst. I worked as a consultant for the state health department for two years before I left for Korea, so I'm trying to find work in my field again and this isn't going to help me. I've been getting interviews - I've had nine already, and I've got five more next week.
Sofia (eyes widening): And you still don't have a job?
I suppress my frustration by flashing her my biggest smile. "The job market is tough for everybody, no just for unskilled laborers. I'm not opposed to doing community service, but if I have to choose between the job interview with the health department and a volunteer orientation, I'm going to my interview. If I have to lose the benefits, so be it; the job opportunity is more important."
At this point she nods and goes to speak with her supervisor. After a few minutes, she comes back and tells me that they've given me a waiver for the next week, provided that I fill out a job search log for that week and bring in proof that I had a job interview at the time of the orientation, and that I could attend the orientation the following week (which is tomorrow). I have to do at least 27 hours of service per month at the food pantry in order to continue to receive benefits through August.
The whole benefits process, while exasperating at times, has nonetheless been an eye-opening experience for me. Though I know that there are some people who intentionally lie to claim benefits - e.g., by getting a doctor to sign off on a disability claim, or collecting unemployment benefits when they are not really looking for work - the idea that poor people "game the system" in order to keep receiving these meager stipends to me is just lunacy. It's such a pain in the ass to go to these places, stand in line, and work with "personal service representatives" who aren't invested in helping you and can't work with your own unique job and family situation even if they were. The people I have seen there are all different ages, races, and life stages; some are well-dressed, some look homeless, some are immigrants, some bring their children, and some are a few ants short of a picnic, but nobody wants to be there. The whole process is incredibly degrading, which - as the husband reminds me - is deliberate, to motivate people to get off of assistance as quickly as possible. There's a lot that can be said about that, but that's another rant for another day.
At any rate, it looks like I'll be volunteering at a food pantry this month. I suppose that's another productive way to spend my time.
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