Adventures in Welfare: Can’t Even Be Honest

It can all burn down.

Burn to the ground.

Burning Venezula
Fuck this system

Holy shit it can all burn.

So, after a bunch of phone calls and verification fuckups last month, I got my Cash Assistance for this month.


Okay, no prob, right? Call them up and tell them “Hey, you overpaid me.” Then they can look, say, “Oh shit”, and take the extra amount out of my card.

So simple.

…burn it all to the ground.

First, I had to call. Twice. Talked to Human Services, told them of the error, was told the first time that this person had to talk to their supervisor.  Second call told me to do this series of fuckery:

  1. Pull the overpayment amount out of an ATM.
  2. Head downtown to their main office.
  3. Give Accounting the money
  4. Sign an affidavit for something or other
Fuck driving. Anywhere. Fuck downtown.

So I waited until yesterday, when my partner worked from home so I had access to the car (which is sorta kinda better than taking transits), and it was like everything went tits up from the jump.  First, the new upgrade to my Android phone fucked with my audio for some reason.  At least Google Maps still worked, leading me through the shitshow that is downtown with the damn construction (I only know how to get to Whole Women’s Health, and that doesn’t require going through most of downtown) with my general nervousness around driving.

Then the “hey, I need gas” light came on. No, girl, don’t panic. Don’t panic. You’re trying to DRIVE. Don’t panic.

I get there, getting parking was simple enough, thank fuck for my disability parking placard.

I got there early, and apparently Accounting doesn’t get that many visits, so I sat there, explained what was going on.

A man limps down a hallway with "What the Shit" written below
My mental dialogue during this conversation.

“I can’t take your money without a claim number.”

“I don’t have one.”

“You’ll have to call this number and tell them what happened and make sure you get a claims number.”

Great.  I sat, shaking, in the lobby and called the number and left a message, and then got in the car and go home – easier since one of the major highways was close.

I get home and just scream. Then go upstairs to rant, when I got a call from claims. They can’t help me, call your “team”, they can handle this, here’s the number. More phone? No answers? Insert crying and shortness of breath here. Even Weasel came into the bedroom and nipped me until I started petting him. it sort of helped.

He's on my HAND, you guys I can't leave!
Can I get him officially named my emotional support animal?

The number I usually call when shit gets fucked up.  I called, and the automatic system didn’t recognize my fucking account number, so I spoke to a human being.

Who couldn’t transfer me to my team.

Who told me that without a claims number, no one can do ANYTHING.

So now I have to fucking wait until they pull their thumbs out of their asses, realize their own fuck up, and then treat me like I’ve done a wrong when I’m PRACTICALLY SITTING ON (insert amount here) that I WANT to give them. I’m trying to do the right thing, but every spiteful bone in me wants to take this money and buy all the fabric and shit I need for this year’s cosplay so I don’t have to bug my partner for cash and tell them to fuck all the entire way off.

But I won’t.

…but sure, welfare is easy to get and keep and only for complete slackers.  Just fucking sign up and it’s easy city from there.

The banana is this entire bass-awkard process.


Adventures in Welfare: Can’t Even Be Honest
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