The last two days have been off-the-scale effing weird. I mean, full moon barking mad weird, and not in a good way-- in a kick-your-ass kind of way.
Tuesday, the Assemblyman's assistant called me to tell me that she'd heard back from the big state agency (and you know who I mean), and that "they had tried to call me but that my phone was disconnected." She then read out my phone number and said, "Well that's weird."
"Yes, it is--that's the number we're talking on and it's never been disconnected." I said.
So yesterday after I was dismissed from my 3.5 hours of work *ahem* I went over to the big agency's local office. They have intermediaries/advocates that can help you reach a supervisor or other contact person on the phone--because nothing is done in person anymore--if you have an issue over ten days old. Try six weeks old, lady.
The woman took me into a quiet, private office, made the call, said a few words on the phone, handed it to me, and then left the office. Not five minutes after she left, the person she connected me with transferred me to the federal claims unit, then the line beeped a few times, and then was quiet. I didn't know if that meant I was on hold or disconnected, so I held on for a few minutes. Then a few more. Did I hang up and risk losing my place in the hold queue? Or had I truly been disconnected? I waited a few more minutes.
I then opened the door to the office, phone to my ear, I could see the receptionist in the lobby, I asked her if she could send Jane Doe back over to where I was--I couldn't figure out if I was on hold or disconnected. They didn't know who Jane Doe was, they didn't work for the same bureaucracy.
Then a rather large black man came out of the office next to mine carrying some papers, and asked if he could help me. I explained the situation. He said he would check, and come back. He didn't know who Jane Doe was, either.
All righty.
He came back and gave me her extension. I said, "What is the rest of the phone number?" He said he didn't know, to just use the office phone and call her extension. I said, "I can't."
"No," he said, "you can. Go ahead."
"I'm on hold." I said. "I think."
"Well just hang up and call her."
"I can't."
"Just call her."
"I would call her on my cell phone if I had all the numbers."
"Hey," he said, "I'm just trying to help you."
"You're not helping," I said, frustrated. He then raised up his arms and left. I'm not sure he understood exactly what it was I was doing because yes, he didn't work for the same bureaucracy. *sigh* So I hung up, and went back out to the lobby, into the office, and asked for Jane Doe again. I sat in a chair and waited, again.
A man came out and said "wake up" ha ha ha, that he would help me, walked me over to the same office. I said, "I'm not sleeping, I'm trying not to freak out." And as soon as I said that, the tears started. I began apologizing profusely and I just made myself more upset. He was extremely nice, very kind, wanted to help, promised he would, made the call on my behalf, I asked him not to leave until I had gotten through to the person I needed, which he thoughtfully did.
I then got a surly woman who decided she had to repeat to me every detail of my claim history--anytime I tried to speak, she would snap at me, "LET ME TALK!" I knew what the problem was, I needed to talk to someone who handled federal claims. She wouldn't transfer me until she'd beaten me into the ground and made me listen to every single date, dollar amount, transaction, say "uh-huh" and then "did I remember my claim ending in October?" like I was five years old.
I told her I wasn't sure what it was she was trying to tell me. She then said, "OK, you don't understand. Do you want me to transfer you?"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WTF? Was this lady for real? But I kept my cool and said "yes." She transfers me. Some guy answers the phone, "hello?"
I was speechless, I didn't know what to say. Usually they want all your identifying information including what you had for breakfast before they'll answer a single question. I started explaining, again, from scratch, and then he said, "hang on" and he transferred me and I was DISCONNECTED. Again.
I said the the nice advocate, "Was I in any way rude?" Because if you speak to these people--state employees paid with our tax money, I might add--in any way that disturbs even a thread of the underpants stuck in their arses, they will hang up on you. Yes. The advocate told me they would (not using the metaphor of the underpants as I just did, of course.
And then kids, yes, that is when I started to sob, in near hysterics. "This is not funny anymore!" I howled while the advocate looked on in astonishment and anxiety. I covered my face in my hands and just kept saying I was sorry as I tried, and failed, to get control of my emotions.
By this time, I had been at the agency for two hours.
The advocate then tried to call back, but wasn't able to get through. I asked him, "What am I supposed to do? Drive to Sacramento and chain myself to the front door? What does it take to get someone to help me?"
Flabbergasted he didn't have an answer. He then said he had a number to the Oakland regional office, and he would go up to his office to get it. I said fine, whatever you think is best.
In about five minutes, Jane Doe came back down. She totally understood. As a state employee, she's been getting furloughed and she had been having trouble paying all her bills and her water had gotten shut off recently and a neighbor loaned her the money to turn it back on.
I apologized left and right, she was kind and thoughtful and told me she understood, got me some Kleenex even, we talked some more, I got calmed down, sort of, and she then made a call on my behalf. She explained the whole thing--the constant being hung-up on, etc., etc., on my behalf--usually they make the claimant do all the explaining but I was in no condition to do that. Then before she put me on the phone said to the rep, "She's very upset, so please, please be patient with her. Please."
Since when do we have to beg state employees to treat us with kindness and respect?!! I thought later to myself.
I answered all this gal, Mary's, questions, gave her dates, facts, figures, and she said she would be right back. She put me on hold--with music!--and I continued talking to Jane.
Finally, finally the gal, Mary, came back on and said she'd talked to her supervisor, and that someone would call me back within 24 hours--they saw what needed to be done.
Relieved, I thanked her enormously and hung up.
Poor Jane came over and gave me a hug--yes, a hug! And explained that she knew exactly how I felt. You just keep trying, and trying, and failing, and failing, and eventually, it just becomes too much and that one little thing just gives way and you collapse, emotionally, and she had done it the weekend before. G*d bless her. G*d bless that woman for understanding.
We then talked for another twenty minutes about the state of the economy and just how bad things were for the average citizen. She then walked me out and we hugged again.
And then at 8:01 this morning, as I was in my car on my way to the office, phone on vibrate, a rep from the agency called and said, "This is Madam Helga from the bureaucracy returning your call. Since you're not available, if you'd like to file a claim please call 800-we-never-answer.
*sigh*
So on my way home, I made a u-turn, went and had beefy-cheesy-rice-and-beany Mexican food, stopped at Wal-Mart for a black sweater (having lost the one I wore with one outfit for work, then changed my mind at checkout because I didn't need a poorly-made black knee-length $20 sweater--duh!), and ended up buying a raspberry crumble coffee-cake instead, and ate half of it while in bed, reading and drinking coffee. I didn't get out of bed until I had to get up this morning, not including brushing my teeth and taking my prescriptions. [BG this morning? 87).
And now, today, because I'm mostly anonymous and not naming names here, the guy doing my training the last few days, is a guy I worked with before as a peer/colleague, and older guy, who I thought was strange and kind of lonely, sad, not too bright, and dull (he's got a story for every situation, "one time, about ten years ago, he he he..." you know the kind of guy I mean), is now a big boss, over our bosses boss from last spring, I watched him take credit twice today for other peoples' work, and to top it all off, he's just creepy in a perverted sexual kind of way. If he puts a hand on me, I may flinch and freak a little bit. He gives off this creepy eatin'-Cheetoh's-while-watchin-porn vibe. Ugh.
And I have to look at him like I'm interested and not disgusted. I have to hide my feelings and make sure my face doesn't have a look on it like "ugh" I smelled something bad, and remember to smile and nod my head like I'm interested and not thinking "oh please, don't let him come over here." Hopefully he won't become my boss--there are four other managers I could be placed under. He's . . . icky.
So I was listening to stories from the people who were hired with me during our breaks today, and so many of them have stories I cannot relate to: Lived in the area all their lives, grew up here, got married, bought houses, had their own kids, took care of sick parents who died at home like they wanted. I can't relate to almost all of that.
I didn't grow up in one place. I don't have life-long friends from sixth grade. I don't have memories of this area from 30 or 40 years ago, and I know I shouldn't tell these folks that the city they love and live in is a place I can't wait to get the hell out of. I never had kids, never bought a house, and I'm estranged from both of my parents. One is completely insane, the other is just annoying. And for a few moments I felt so . . . damaged. And I thought about freaking out yesterday and just totally losing my marbles after months of wanting to cry and not being able to, and how could I possibly expect myself to be effing normal with the effing life I've had? How? And I feel like I will never be OK. And I think about pictures I saw from the big tsunami at Christmas a few years ago. Pictures of dead bodies stacked up like logs and I wonder, how can we all be unique and special and valued and important? How can we be all those things and then the universe allows us to be killed by water and stacked up like so much harvest corn? If I am unique and special, then they were, too, and ultimately, it's as if nothing really matters. It's a giant cosmic joke. But I'm not laughing.
SUPERFREAK!
