On my lunch break today, I walked the eight or so blocks to the Federal Building to the Social Security office. Part of the process of getting married requires a whole lot of paperwork on the part of the missus; name changes to health insurance cards, driver's license, voter registration, bank accounts, and Social Security. Somewhere along the line, the IRS gets another notice.
Entering the Social Security office, I noticed a large red ticket dispenser with the words "Take A Number" posted above it on the wall. Most every blue plastic chair was occupied by people awaiting a meeting with a caseworker. Another small line formed to my right to a single teller window for simple things like name changes.
I got in the line, and took note of the group to the front of me: a harried young Hispanic mother and a fussy toddler; a tall, thin black man; a middle-aged black woman with long, heavy false hair weaves; a yuppie young man tapping on a Blackberry; and another Hispanic woman and her daughter with several large bags in tow. When the tall black gentleman reached the window, the clerk began to frown and look over her glasses at him, hands on her hips, and attitude on her face:
"I told you before, I can't help you," she says.
The man patiently begins his explanation again in a South African accented voice. She interrupts, and tells him he must move on and let the people behind him attend to their business. He is holding everyone up. A brief silence, and then the clerk calls for security. The man never raised his voice, but stood his ground. The Yuppie said something to the black lady in front of him and they both backed away from the determined man at the window. The officer appears, and roughly grabbing an elbow, he pulls the man out of the queue. As best I could understand, the man needed food stamps. The officer asks for identification and I see a worn, thin billfold come out, and some papers are handed over. No money appeared to be in the wallet. They move on out of sight and earshot.
Several governmental employees in the office spoke Spanish to help the non-english speaking Hispanics needing translators. No one could help the man who desperately needed an interpretation of the process for acquiring food stamps. The Hispanic lady in front of me made some disparaging remark about him, sighed and rolled her shoulders, angry at the waste of her time.
Walking back to my office, I couldn't get his face out of my mind. I hoped he had found someone with more compassion than the clerk or the officer to help him figure out how to get food stamps. I wondered if he had a family waiting at home for Dad to bring some groceries to them. After all, this is America, right?
Land of plenty, and land of opportunity.
While I am probably sure one day in America is ten times better than one day in his previous home, I am also ashamed at the way he was treated: as an ignorant foreigner who took more than his alloted time at some governmental window. It also surprised me that the Hispanic lady with a green card could presume to be above the man in status.
I wished now that I had been less of a leming, and stepped forward to be a temporary advocate. I might not have been able to do much to cut the red tape, but I could have been a better representative of America than the two people he encountered. Today, I got a lesson in democracy and humanity. I failed the quiz.
Who Is Cowtown Pattie?
- Cowtown Pattie
- I was Lillie Langtry in another life, and might have a crush on Calamity Jane.
8 comments:
The real lesson to be learned here is to keep your own name when you get married, and avoid the lines and the inevitable jass at government offices!
Just kidding!
Hey, I wanted to use "jass" first! You win. 10-4 on the governmental agencies. Lots of jasses for sure.
I've yet to have a favorable experience at a governmental office. I don't blame you for not stepping in to intercede on the poor man's behalf. It's hard not to selfishly want to do your time there with as little fuss as possible and get the hell out.
The truth is, those cretins earning government wages should be endowed with a little more humanity if they're going to be involved in social services, or even when they're just dealing with the public. They are in essence representatives of our government, and we should demand more from them.
Don't be so hard on yourself, Pattie. And don't be so quick to judge government workers on the basis of one snapshot in time.
Given that this was not his first time at that particular window, we can conclude that the man has persistence. Sooner or later he is going to make contact with someone who will know how to help him and will give him directions to the proper venue.
After all, this is America. Nobody starves, and people who persevere get fat.
gowain
I've been there like you, Pattie, and not done what I thought I should to try to help. It's painful. Part of it is we all think we're in so much of a hurry - a short lunch hour, a meeting to get to, an appointment to keep. Or, knowing in our bones the futility of trying to help because...
...like Mick above, I have never had a satisfactory encounter with a government employee at any level of government. They are either surly or indifferent and sometimes mean, frequently stupid and mostly don't care.
I wonder why that is.
Ronni
Gowain, I am not so sure nobody starves. A thing I remember about a trip to D.C. in the 80's: at lunchtime, all the governmental employees were spilling out of every nook and cranny of every building. Not sure why I noticed this, or if it has any importance at all, but I would wager at least 50% of the employees I saw were black women. Maybe that is a good thing, given our past. One thing I know for sure, the government HR dept is failing on teaching professionalism and courtesy.
One significant reason govt. employees are so surly is that it's damn near impossible to fire them for being surly. No negative reinforcement. Add the fact that they have to deal with the general public for eight hours a day, most of whom have never heard of the Golden Rule, much less practice it, and there's no positive reinforcement.
As for what you can do, unless you know the precise directions to the food stamp window, I imagine all you would have done was waste your time and the gentleman's time, as well as confused him to high, holy hell. I mean, obviously, the Federal Building, home of Uncle Sugar, is where you go to get the milk and honey.
You should see how they treat little old ladies in wheelchairs! My Mom nearly had a knock down drag out at the SSA office from her chair when they got surly with her.(her check was not electronically deposited and her bill checks were bouncing like rubber balls and she was the one in the wrong...go figure!)
I think that the confusion is that Social Security in most countries is a cradle to grave sort of social service type plan. In his mind hes in the right spot. What he needed is a social worker and if the clerk had half a brain, shed have gotten him the address or phone number of the welfare office. Now this might have happened but if hes not legal, welfare wont help him either.
Its a hard place to be. You want to help but we are taught to mind our own business. Dont feel too badly about it.
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