I have completed my paperwork, and I am officially a recipient of good will and charity. That is, I now receive SNAP funds from the commonwealth. SNAP is the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, but it is better known as food stamps.
I wrote a while back about filling out forms, and now that I have completed the process, it wasn't too bad. I had to send in documentation proving residency (copy of the lease with my name on it - this also proved how much I spent in rent), 4 pay stubs, proof of employment and payment arrangements from another employer, a copy of a utility bill, and a signed statement from a roommate regarding how much I pay for utilities. I ended up sending two of my utility bills just to show how much I spent total.
The only down side is that it is a lot to gather and send. I have people who took pity on my and let me FAX, but it totaled about 16 pages of documentation! I also had an employer who needed a little reminder about the urgency of sending information in.
All in all, it's not too bad of a process. Yes, there are hard moments in asking for documentation. Using my card the first time was not easy either. However, I now have food in my stomach and money to pay bills. It may be better to give rather than receive, but I am learning to receive with a joyful heart as well. For those of you who do make enough to pay taxes, please know that your money supports programs like this.
I would like to point out that the SNAP program only pays for certain items - it does not cover everything. I have encountered people who think it pays for alcohol, tobacco, hair dye, pet food, etc... It does not. It only pays for certain consumables. If you want to know more about the program, type "SNAP, [your state]" into your favorite search engine.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
What Would You Do? Part 2
In my previous posting, I talked about a situation in Downtown Boston where I witnessed a man being belittled by another. I stepped in to help him. It ended like a Jack London story where a man in the crowd, for defending the wrong man, now chastised me; I asked you, what would you do?
Here’s what I did. I was really shaken up for realizing what had just transpired and for calling 911. The fight part of the flight-or-fight response was dissipating, and I was literally shaken. I tried to listen to this new man’s account. We’ll call him Bert. I say “tried” because it’s very hard to absorb everything a person says when you’re coming out of that response mode.
I apologized to him. I agreed that I didn’t have the all the facts, but I did what I could with what I knew, and what I knew was that the dignity of a person was being injured. Bert went on to say that he works with developmentally injured people (I’m not really sure why except maybe to say he knows how to best handle these situations because one of the two involved has a cognitive disability). I came back with “I work for the church” (not to be outdone in the perceived battle over who does more good for people – I do regret that I let my pride get the best of me in this comment).
I wasn’t angry, but there was an uncomfortable feeling inside of me. How could he chastise me for doing the wrong thing when he “knew” the right thing and still did nothing? He had all the facts and did not act. It bothered me. He did not deny a wrongdoing had occurred; I just sided with the wrong person. I commented on this saying, “I did something with what I knew; what did you do?”
His comment back was fired immediately, “Is it better to do the wrong thing than nothing at all?” I have been thinking about this comment ever since he uttered it. Is doing nothing a 3rd way – the first two being doing the right thing or the wrong thing? Can doing nothing actually be connected to right or wrong? I asked him how many times I would have to apologize before he was satisfied in my sincerity. What would/could I do that would satisfy his need in this matter? He said he didn’t need my apology; I needed to give it to the [white] guy. He was defending a person who was no longer there, and it was a person I could not find if I tried now. In other words, I could not make amends in his eyes.
My parting comment to him was, “I hope this inspires you to do the right thing before someone else does the wrong one.” I admit it – it was a quip. My pride was injured, and I was now plagued by doubt at my actions. I watched so many people roll their eyes, walk a little faster or mutter under their breath about what they saw, but no one stepped in. Even people who watched the whole thing did nothing. I did something, and I paid a price.
Perhaps I did have it all wrong. I’ll never know now. I don’t know if I’d do it again if I could, and I hate that I hesitate. I hate that people can look at injustice and look away with a clear conscience. I could not look the other way for some reason.
In a sermon given at BUSTH, by a dear friend, we were asked what it would take for us to get involved – at what point are we willing to take action? Does it have to threaten our own sense of safety and/or security before we react? I took a risk today, and it may have been ill timed, but I risked helping someone else when it would never benefited me. While one person went away injured, another felt compassion – that someone who didn’t have to care did. I’d like to feel sorry for the man I didn’t defend, who was supposedly in the “right,” but it’s hard to feel sorry for a man who throws verbal daggers at another with the sole intention of wounding; and it’s hard not to feel compassion for the man who takes those daggers with grace. I will hang on to that vision as my inspiration and try to do better next time.
Here’s what I did. I was really shaken up for realizing what had just transpired and for calling 911. The fight part of the flight-or-fight response was dissipating, and I was literally shaken. I tried to listen to this new man’s account. We’ll call him Bert. I say “tried” because it’s very hard to absorb everything a person says when you’re coming out of that response mode.
I apologized to him. I agreed that I didn’t have the all the facts, but I did what I could with what I knew, and what I knew was that the dignity of a person was being injured. Bert went on to say that he works with developmentally injured people (I’m not really sure why except maybe to say he knows how to best handle these situations because one of the two involved has a cognitive disability). I came back with “I work for the church” (not to be outdone in the perceived battle over who does more good for people – I do regret that I let my pride get the best of me in this comment).
I wasn’t angry, but there was an uncomfortable feeling inside of me. How could he chastise me for doing the wrong thing when he “knew” the right thing and still did nothing? He had all the facts and did not act. It bothered me. He did not deny a wrongdoing had occurred; I just sided with the wrong person. I commented on this saying, “I did something with what I knew; what did you do?”
His comment back was fired immediately, “Is it better to do the wrong thing than nothing at all?” I have been thinking about this comment ever since he uttered it. Is doing nothing a 3rd way – the first two being doing the right thing or the wrong thing? Can doing nothing actually be connected to right or wrong? I asked him how many times I would have to apologize before he was satisfied in my sincerity. What would/could I do that would satisfy his need in this matter? He said he didn’t need my apology; I needed to give it to the [white] guy. He was defending a person who was no longer there, and it was a person I could not find if I tried now. In other words, I could not make amends in his eyes.
My parting comment to him was, “I hope this inspires you to do the right thing before someone else does the wrong one.” I admit it – it was a quip. My pride was injured, and I was now plagued by doubt at my actions. I watched so many people roll their eyes, walk a little faster or mutter under their breath about what they saw, but no one stepped in. Even people who watched the whole thing did nothing. I did something, and I paid a price.
Perhaps I did have it all wrong. I’ll never know now. I don’t know if I’d do it again if I could, and I hate that I hesitate. I hate that people can look at injustice and look away with a clear conscience. I could not look the other way for some reason.
In a sermon given at BUSTH, by a dear friend, we were asked what it would take for us to get involved – at what point are we willing to take action? Does it have to threaten our own sense of safety and/or security before we react? I took a risk today, and it may have been ill timed, but I risked helping someone else when it would never benefited me. While one person went away injured, another felt compassion – that someone who didn’t have to care did. I’d like to feel sorry for the man I didn’t defend, who was supposedly in the “right,” but it’s hard to feel sorry for a man who throws verbal daggers at another with the sole intention of wounding; and it’s hard not to feel compassion for the man who takes those daggers with grace. I will hang on to that vision as my inspiration and try to do better next time.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
What Would you Do? Part 1
Today, I take a slight departure from my intent in this blog. I intend to write about my life and the poverty of not having a job after graduate school. Today I write about dignity, the poor and a slice of life.
I like John Quinones. I think he does some very interesting human-interest pieces. Not too long ago I saw a promo for a new special titled “What Would You Do?” Okay, I never actually got around to watching it, but I think I’ll be hunting it down after today. The idea is that they would recreate uncomfortable situations, like a couple yelling in the park and then the man grabs the woman by the wrist to take her away, and see how spectators respond. He usually asks those people to walk him through their through processes.
I was inspired by that promo. Yup, 15 seconds seemed to change how I look at people in Boston. I usually walk right by the homeless man because right now I feel as poor as him. If I hear people yelling, I usually try to get out of there as soon as possible.
Today I was downtown and near a T station. It’s a nice part of downtown, in the banking/ financial district, and it’s not too far from some tourist/historical spots. This is important to know because it creates the “feeling in the air.” This isn’t a seedy part of town where it’s safer to call 911 and keep walking. Nope – I was there with at least 50 of my fellow Bostonians.
As I was walking by, I heard a man swearing at the top of his lungs. The man swearing was white, in a wheelchair with only one leg, disheveled and had a bag (instrument sized). The man he was yelling at was black, overweight and had a refreshingly honest sign stating that he needed money to get drunk and high so he could deal with life on the street. Do these little details matter? They did to me, and they might to you as you draw your own conclusions.
The white man was yelling obscenities to the black man saying he was stupid, and if he put in half an effort, he could actually get a job. I’ll let you figure out the obscene words. I listened to it for a full minute. Feeling sorry for the man being yelled at (he appeared to be “taking it” with a grace that I could only describe as strength in vulnerability), I walked over and handed him a dollar. I could not stand the idea of this man’s dignity being ripped from him for all to see. I started to walk away when I started thinking about John Quinones’ report and my class on Vocation, Work and Faith. Had I done enough for a bullied man? Was I like the first two to pass by the man injured on the road? Did I have the courage to be a Good Samaritan? This is not yet where I ask “What would you do?”
I walked up to the black man and asked if he would like me to call the police. The guy said no and followed it up with a comment that the [white] man would leave soon enough. The obscenities continued, and I said, “Sir, I think it’s time to move along now.” (He had been telling the black man to get out of his f---ing way… except that guy was sitting on a park bench) Completely ignoring me, the man continued. I raised my voice above what I thought possible and yelled, “Sir. Either you need to move along or I need to call the police.” (I really need to get the non-emergency number for BPD on my phone.) I started to call 911, and another man from the crowd stood next to me. The white man left in a huff, and I was left to explain to the 911 operator why I no longer needed their service.
Now, here comes the part of “What would you do?” A man came up to me immediately after this and said I had no business getting involved. I had it all wrong. The facts were that the man in the wheelchair was there first and was playing music. The other man came over and instigated everything with yelling at him [white]. I defended the wrong man, and I gave the wrong man money. Now, what would you do?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wages, Sabbath & the Poor
Generally, when you work on Sunday, you make 1.5 wages. If I make $8/hr every other day of the week, I make $12/hr on Sunday. It's enough to make you want to go to church and thank Jesus for the extra half loaf of bread... oh wait... you can't go... you're at work.
Since I decided to go to seminary, I have told every employer that I will work on Sunday BUT only after service is over. I usually give myself an hour or two after the official time of the service's end just to be safe and so I can enjoy fellowship. Who wants to miss out on some of those goodies?!? While most employers say they are okay with that (Federal regulations state that a person cannot be made to work during times of religious observance), some make sure you know that religion and the workplace do not co-exist. One employer switched the mandatory meetings for all staff to Sunday mornings well after my employment. While I'll never why this person did it, I do know that my absence was always questioned. Perhaps my lack of attending those meetings for a prayer meeting in my sanctuary was evangelism - I don't know.
I do think it's right to require extra wages on the Sabbath, which should be a day of rest. For Christians, that day is Sunday. (I'm a little jealous of my Jewish friends who get paid extra and still have a Sabbath day.) There should be some incentive to closing the doors a little early when people should be spending time outdoors and with family. It should not stand like any other day in the week.
Here's the problem, it's alluring. Knowing that I was making some extra money for the same thing I do every day was intoxicating. I could make about 20 extra dollars in one shift. While that may not sound like much, it sounded like a gold mine to me. Those $20 represented a little extra space in the form of paying my bills a little easier. I could possibly spend it on some much needed entertainment in my life - life is supposed to be enjoyed after all! I could even start to use it in a new fund, which will support a vacation I really want to take. Before I had even earned it, my money was spent, and I realized I was gambling with my time AND my money.
I have made a commitment to attend church first and then be available to assist my employer and coworkers. I know not everyone feels that is possible - they may think it a luxury to have a religious observance. In the end, do we discourage people from honoring God and the Sabbath by dangling a carrot of money in front of them? Do we show them Caesar's face and provide promises only God can give? This will make you happier. This will give you freedom. This will let you enjoy life. Is this legal exploitation? If I had a job that paid me more on a consistent basis, would I still be willing to go into work on Sunday, or would I be willing to forgo that extra monetary incentive in favor of a little rest and time with loved ones? It makes me a little sick to participate in it, but I'm caught too. $20 sounds like so much money right now. If I have already taken the time to worship and honor God, can I still hold my head high and work for Caesar? Can the Sabbath be parceled?
I'd like to say that I can still hold my head high and that I'm not parceling the Sabbath. I have sacrificed that which could bring me comfort to be with God in those (late) morning hours. By saying I won't work during service and fellowship times, I want to believe that I am still honoring the Sabbath - I mean, farmers still have to work on Sundays because cows do not milk themselves! My comfort is that I try to take the lessons I learned at church that day and bring them into the workplace. It's not the "in your face" evangelism I think many of us have come to expect. I don't pass out tracts or say "God bless you" to people, but I do smile. It does actually make people wonder what you are up to - they want to know your secret. I talk to the children and entertain the little ones while Mom or Dad is digging out the form of payment. I let the angry and impatient customer know that the person who took 40 items into the express checkout lane (which is 12 or less) has now left, and my full attention is in the present with him or her. The person in front of me is the most important person at the moment. I'd like to think that's how Jesus would have handled working on the Sabbath - taking care of the needs of the people in front of him and in the moment.
I still feel uneasy about 1.5 wages and Sunday. I do the best I can, and I think there are many people who are doing the same thing. Perhaps not shopping on Sunday is something people can try next Lent. We could try not doing it for one Sunday and see how that goes. We could remove the incentive for stores to be open on Sunday, and then everyone could get a nap in while football plays on the TV.
Since I decided to go to seminary, I have told every employer that I will work on Sunday BUT only after service is over. I usually give myself an hour or two after the official time of the service's end just to be safe and so I can enjoy fellowship. Who wants to miss out on some of those goodies?!? While most employers say they are okay with that (Federal regulations state that a person cannot be made to work during times of religious observance), some make sure you know that religion and the workplace do not co-exist. One employer switched the mandatory meetings for all staff to Sunday mornings well after my employment. While I'll never why this person did it, I do know that my absence was always questioned. Perhaps my lack of attending those meetings for a prayer meeting in my sanctuary was evangelism - I don't know.
I do think it's right to require extra wages on the Sabbath, which should be a day of rest. For Christians, that day is Sunday. (I'm a little jealous of my Jewish friends who get paid extra and still have a Sabbath day.) There should be some incentive to closing the doors a little early when people should be spending time outdoors and with family. It should not stand like any other day in the week.
Here's the problem, it's alluring. Knowing that I was making some extra money for the same thing I do every day was intoxicating. I could make about 20 extra dollars in one shift. While that may not sound like much, it sounded like a gold mine to me. Those $20 represented a little extra space in the form of paying my bills a little easier. I could possibly spend it on some much needed entertainment in my life - life is supposed to be enjoyed after all! I could even start to use it in a new fund, which will support a vacation I really want to take. Before I had even earned it, my money was spent, and I realized I was gambling with my time AND my money.
I have made a commitment to attend church first and then be available to assist my employer and coworkers. I know not everyone feels that is possible - they may think it a luxury to have a religious observance. In the end, do we discourage people from honoring God and the Sabbath by dangling a carrot of money in front of them? Do we show them Caesar's face and provide promises only God can give? This will make you happier. This will give you freedom. This will let you enjoy life. Is this legal exploitation? If I had a job that paid me more on a consistent basis, would I still be willing to go into work on Sunday, or would I be willing to forgo that extra monetary incentive in favor of a little rest and time with loved ones? It makes me a little sick to participate in it, but I'm caught too. $20 sounds like so much money right now. If I have already taken the time to worship and honor God, can I still hold my head high and work for Caesar? Can the Sabbath be parceled?
I'd like to say that I can still hold my head high and that I'm not parceling the Sabbath. I have sacrificed that which could bring me comfort to be with God in those (late) morning hours. By saying I won't work during service and fellowship times, I want to believe that I am still honoring the Sabbath - I mean, farmers still have to work on Sundays because cows do not milk themselves! My comfort is that I try to take the lessons I learned at church that day and bring them into the workplace. It's not the "in your face" evangelism I think many of us have come to expect. I don't pass out tracts or say "God bless you" to people, but I do smile. It does actually make people wonder what you are up to - they want to know your secret. I talk to the children and entertain the little ones while Mom or Dad is digging out the form of payment. I let the angry and impatient customer know that the person who took 40 items into the express checkout lane (which is 12 or less) has now left, and my full attention is in the present with him or her. The person in front of me is the most important person at the moment. I'd like to think that's how Jesus would have handled working on the Sabbath - taking care of the needs of the people in front of him and in the moment.
I still feel uneasy about 1.5 wages and Sunday. I do the best I can, and I think there are many people who are doing the same thing. Perhaps not shopping on Sunday is something people can try next Lent. We could try not doing it for one Sunday and see how that goes. We could remove the incentive for stores to be open on Sunday, and then everyone could get a nap in while football plays on the TV.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
humiliating
Yes, I know - it's two posts in a row. I already have so much stuff to say about this new topic, so I might as well get to writing.
I finally swallowed my pride a while back and applied for SNAP, which is better known as food stamps. After watching my finances dwindle away, I realized that I could pay my bills if I stopped eating. However, not eating has very bad consequences, so I didn't really think that was a good option.
My case manager has, thus far, been a wonderful person. After talking with her about my current employment situation, she realized I was going to need serious help and fast. She got me set up with emergency funds to make sure I could get food. I was really thrilled to know that at least something was going right. I even joked to a few friends that I finally got to see a benefit for paying taxes all these years.
The laughter stopped when I realized I would have to go to a new employer for documentation about my employment. Now you don't want to lie about your employment. Overstate it, and you may not get all the help you need. Understate it (like not reporting), and you can expect some face time with Boston's finest officers of the law... you might even get to see a judge and jury. While I understand all of this, it's really hard to go up to HR on your first week on the job and ask for a letter of employment verification. (I need the letter because I do not have enough paystubs for the required documentation.) While the HR woman was very nice about it, I don't think any amount of "nice" would ever make me feel comfortable sharing my economic situation. I think there are only two reasons people know how much money you make: you make a ton or you make nothing... you're rich or your poor. Everyone knows the Hiltons or Kardashians because of the obscene amount of money they have. When you're poor, people know because you need their help. It's humbling and sometimes humiliating. Honestly, while I know I need it, I find it strips away a little of my dignity. I'm well-educated, have many commendations to my credit, had a professional career and come from a good home. Now I have to tell people, who are really strangers to my life, that I'm practically broke. I joked that the Commonwealth doesn't think I'll survive Darwinism and that's why they're giving me food stamps! It's laughter designed to hide pain and humiliation. I don't want to be a charity case, but I also don't want to go hungry or struggle to the point of worrying myself sick.
In another blog I'll talk about the documentation required by the commonwealth, but right now I want to put a feeling on the process. It's humbling. I feel like Oliver, who takes his bowl up to get more porridge. The only light I've found in this, besides being able to pick what I want to eat again vs. what I could previously afford, is being able to give back to others. I can now make a batch of cookies to take over to someone. I can afford to bring chips and dip. I can give back to friends and family who have helped me out as much as they could. It's a little place where I regain a little of that lost dignity in the process.
A new direction
I have been very silent on here. What I used to find strange about Boston is suddenly very normal. I've learned to silently harmonize with the guy who sings Billy Joel tunes on the bus or (in my head) commend people for being so comfortably bold in their fashion choices. I didn't feel like there was anything new to say. And then graduation day came... and went.
I figured I'd take a month off and then I would find the job I had always wanted. Just over two months later I'm still waiting to find it. I began to enter a new phase in my life, and it's not one I ever expected to be possible - poorer than seminary. At least in seminary I had a safety net. I didn't always know it, but there were plenty of resources. I know I made some of those possible for others. But now, with my savings drying up like a desert at noon, I found myself wondering how ends were going to meet.
So I am now dedicating this blog, at least for a while, about what it's like to be educated, poor and navigating the social services. This is a hard journey to put out there - it's deeply personal, and there's a stigma about receiving aid from any government be it state or federal. However, I believe it's important for me to record what this time is like so I never forget it. I also think it's important for people to know what it's really like to be in this situation. I'll admit, I thought people just griped about what they had to do to get help. Perhaps if they had just finished high school they could figure out how to fill out a silly little form. I am not enjoying the taste of my foot in my mouth right now, and the words that I have just swallowed are gnawing away at my stomach.
I'll save a few of the details for another blog, but I want to address something first. Everyone has the right to dignity... even those who receive assistance from the state (or commonwealth). I currently work at a grocery store to get a little income. I remember from my Vocation, Work and Faith course (in my last semester) a conversation about the dignity of work/labor. Yes, I make minimum wage right now, and yes it's hard to make that with a Masters degree hanging on my wall, but right now it feels good to earn my income, however small it is. It wasn't handed to me - I worked hard for it. There are days I literally sweat from the physical nature of the labor I do scanning others' groceries, but it still feels good to pay my bills or anything else knowing that it actually came from the sweat of my brow. It may not be glamorous, and I aspire to do more than this, but it is honest work, and it is dignified.
Now, to get on my soap box, I want to talk about how we all need food to live. I see people from all walks of life at the grocery store. I can usually tell by the cards they pull out to pay. Some pull out a check card; others use a credit card; some have fancy credit cards that say "Platinum" or "World"... something... anyway, it lets everyone know this is someone special; some use EBT cards. EBT is essentially food stamps. I can't tell much about a person from the way he or she is dressed, but I can tell something about the form of payment the person uses. I've seen people in line get rather impatient with people using EBT or WIC (Women, Infant, Children) methods of payment. Yes, they take longer to process, but there are good reasons for it. People have abused them in the past, and precautions were taken to help prevent that.
Anyway, back on topic - I've seen many people embarrassed to have their card out. They take the EBT card out at the last possible moment, swipe it really fast and put it back with lightening fast speed. They don't want anyone to know they need help. I can understand that on a personal level - but I'm ashamed to be part of a society that puts a stigma on a loving gift of charity. The word "charity" has changed into something great to give to and something bad to receive. Every time I think about it I am reminded of the last words of 1 Cor 13 - now these three things abide: faith, hope and love (charity), and the greatest of these is love (charity). Is it still the greatest?
People deserve to be cared for in ways that really mean something - and why shouldn't they have access to basic needs like food? I have made it my mission to not look at the card someone uses to pay unless that person has a question about it. Everyone in my line will be treated according to the attitude he or she treats another. Want to be nice to me? I'm sure we'll have a great time. Want to take out your bad day on me? I'll make sure your order is completed as fast a possible.
I'm sure this is a bit of rambling, and I promise it'll get better. I'll try to keep up with my own adventures in receiving transitional assistance for food and medical care (health insurance is a law in Massachusetts). I hope this becomes a companion to others who have struggled with these same issues, and I hope it is enlightening to those who never do.
I figured I'd take a month off and then I would find the job I had always wanted. Just over two months later I'm still waiting to find it. I began to enter a new phase in my life, and it's not one I ever expected to be possible - poorer than seminary. At least in seminary I had a safety net. I didn't always know it, but there were plenty of resources. I know I made some of those possible for others. But now, with my savings drying up like a desert at noon, I found myself wondering how ends were going to meet.
So I am now dedicating this blog, at least for a while, about what it's like to be educated, poor and navigating the social services. This is a hard journey to put out there - it's deeply personal, and there's a stigma about receiving aid from any government be it state or federal. However, I believe it's important for me to record what this time is like so I never forget it. I also think it's important for people to know what it's really like to be in this situation. I'll admit, I thought people just griped about what they had to do to get help. Perhaps if they had just finished high school they could figure out how to fill out a silly little form. I am not enjoying the taste of my foot in my mouth right now, and the words that I have just swallowed are gnawing away at my stomach.
I'll save a few of the details for another blog, but I want to address something first. Everyone has the right to dignity... even those who receive assistance from the state (or commonwealth). I currently work at a grocery store to get a little income. I remember from my Vocation, Work and Faith course (in my last semester) a conversation about the dignity of work/labor. Yes, I make minimum wage right now, and yes it's hard to make that with a Masters degree hanging on my wall, but right now it feels good to earn my income, however small it is. It wasn't handed to me - I worked hard for it. There are days I literally sweat from the physical nature of the labor I do scanning others' groceries, but it still feels good to pay my bills or anything else knowing that it actually came from the sweat of my brow. It may not be glamorous, and I aspire to do more than this, but it is honest work, and it is dignified.
Now, to get on my soap box, I want to talk about how we all need food to live. I see people from all walks of life at the grocery store. I can usually tell by the cards they pull out to pay. Some pull out a check card; others use a credit card; some have fancy credit cards that say "Platinum" or "World"... something... anyway, it lets everyone know this is someone special; some use EBT cards. EBT is essentially food stamps. I can't tell much about a person from the way he or she is dressed, but I can tell something about the form of payment the person uses. I've seen people in line get rather impatient with people using EBT or WIC (Women, Infant, Children) methods of payment. Yes, they take longer to process, but there are good reasons for it. People have abused them in the past, and precautions were taken to help prevent that.
Anyway, back on topic - I've seen many people embarrassed to have their card out. They take the EBT card out at the last possible moment, swipe it really fast and put it back with lightening fast speed. They don't want anyone to know they need help. I can understand that on a personal level - but I'm ashamed to be part of a society that puts a stigma on a loving gift of charity. The word "charity" has changed into something great to give to and something bad to receive. Every time I think about it I am reminded of the last words of 1 Cor 13 - now these three things abide: faith, hope and love (charity), and the greatest of these is love (charity). Is it still the greatest?
People deserve to be cared for in ways that really mean something - and why shouldn't they have access to basic needs like food? I have made it my mission to not look at the card someone uses to pay unless that person has a question about it. Everyone in my line will be treated according to the attitude he or she treats another. Want to be nice to me? I'm sure we'll have a great time. Want to take out your bad day on me? I'll make sure your order is completed as fast a possible.
I'm sure this is a bit of rambling, and I promise it'll get better. I'll try to keep up with my own adventures in receiving transitional assistance for food and medical care (health insurance is a law in Massachusetts). I hope this becomes a companion to others who have struggled with these same issues, and I hope it is enlightening to those who never do.
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