I woke up this morning with every intent of raising hell. After all, this was going to be my third trip to the unemployment office for the same issue. I'm not gonna wait in your damn lines. It will not be another three hour sojourn of staring at closed doors hoping the next time someone appears it will be my name beckoned. Nope, not for this cat, not this time.
'Fill out your SSN and name and bring this back to me.'
Ok, so I punked out as I often do when psyching myself up to be rude and confrontational. Plus, she was too darn nice especially compared to the first time I dealt with this particular steward of the office of the "No Longer Bountiful". It's probably a sad sign when you recognize the department of labor staff.
There's the 1960's black elderly lady. Never smiles. Rarely uses a voice that can be heard halfway across the room, let alone halfway across a room full of cell convos, children, and 100 unhappy jobless folks.
There's the single, happy to help lady. She's the one I imagine leads all attempts to round the troops up for happy hour and war stories. Sh has also had the same outfit on for three of my four visits.
There's the huge hispanic (or maybe samoan) guy that walks around the computer termnals being used by first time filers. Seriously, this is his job! Of the four visits I've made encompassing nearly eight hours (and counting), this guy has provided assistance to, like, 10 people. Really? Really? I'm sure he has helped more that I haven't seen but as a graduate of the process for which he provides assistance, there just aren't a lot of places where one can go wrong.
But I digress. I fill my form and throw my previous visits out there.
'Well you picked a good day, we're slow.'
Yippee! I picked a good day to do what I had already been here twice to do.
For what it's worth, my wait is 15 minutes before happy hour girl cries my name, incorrectly. She appears truly alarmed at my lack of received funds. My spirits rise as I sense that maybe something will get done this time. My first visit for no benefits received, I waited three hours, and at 4:30 pm 1960's black lady uttered my name. I went back and after five minutes of her disappearing to make copies, she tells me the folks that would review my claim leave at 4:30 pm. Bitches!! My second visit was the asian guy with a minimal grasp of English, which is fine. Considering that this is Gwinnett County, there are more ethnicities in a single square mile than bare boobs at Mardi Gras. He is flabbergasted at what has become eight or nine weeks of unemployment insurance futility. But my hope wanes as seems stuck on my former employer's official name. Fast forward to today, the happy hour lady is going to help me. She even has a new outfit on which has to be a good omen.
'Someone will call your name,' she says after thoughtfully telling me stuff about my claim that I already knew. Oh Happy hour lady, et tu Happy hour lady? Et tu?!
<SIDEBAR> Is there anything sadder than the cat trying to be hot at the unemployment office. Sunglasses de Super Trooper don't make you look any more employed. Silly perhaps, employed no. Two places you don't need to try to pick up a mate, the unemployment office and the free clinic....
Finally, about 45 minutes later, the Asian man butchers my name to the point where he resorts to just spelling it. I walk over to him, ready to go back into his cube and discuss in length my situation.
'You'll get your money tomorrow or Tuesday,' he says quickly. Not sure why I wouldn't get it on Monday as opposed to Tuesday.
'Are you sure?' I say because well, this is the third time I've been to the place for this.
'Yes, we approved this morning.' Uh, so why didn't they approve the first two times I strolled through..ah forget it.
UPDATE -- Money is coming in but is 53 bucks short every week.....Damn iT!
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