Public Annoyance

I have a good education and a professional job in Spokane. Most everywhere I go, people treat me the way I appear — as a middle-class woman, active in the world.

But my nephew is in need of public assistance. He is 4 years old and lives with me. His mother passed away in April. I am working to get custody, but until I have official custody, I cannot place him as a dependent on my health insurance.

Trying to get help for my nephew allowed me a peek into the way low-income people in our community might be treated on a regular basis. It was an experience that opened my eyes to the daily attack on dignity that these people must face.

The incident occurred in one of our Department of Social and Health Services offices in north Spokane. On the recommendation of a Washington state social worker, I am applying for medical benefits for my nephew.

I had an appointment at 8 a.m. one recent Tuesday. I arrived at 8 and was told by a receptionist to place a blue slip in a tray and wait. On the slip, I wrote my name and the time of my appointment — 8 a.m.

From the waiting area, I could see the receptionist and cubicle areas. At 8:10, a different receptionist took my blue slip and called my name.

“We have to reschedule your appointment because you were late,” he told me.

I said, “What?!”

This was totally unacceptable to me and I let him know I did arrive at 8 a.m. He informed me that I was supposed to be there 15 minutes early.

“Even if you were one second late, you would have to reschedule your appointment,” he said.

He told me the notice I received explained the policy. I said I had read it and saw, in bold large letters, that WorkFirst applicants needed to arrive 15 minutes early.

Because I am employed, I didn’t believe that applied to me. The finer print, which I did not read, did seem to apply the 15-minutes-early rule to other clients. However, the point of the 15-minutes-early regulation is to allow WorkFirst applicants to go through a required orientation, which I, obviously, did not need to do.

I asked to see a supervisor.

At 9:25, I was finally allowed to speak to the supervisor. He came out of his office and immediately began telling me I was not there at 8 a.m.

I still dispute this, but do not feel that this is the point. The point is I observed staff chatting to one another, getting coffee and water and basically having the time to speak to clients, if they chose to.

My other observation was that they treat people like criminals. Recipients have to adhere to unfriendly, unprofessional rules — or else. I also asked the supervisor why they are not required to have a service standard. They are, after all, public servants answerable to the taxpayers. The rote reply from the supervisor was that I was not there at 8 a.m. I let him know I spoke to another woman who was called in while I was seated and she said her appointment was also at 8.

The supervisor was aggressive and hostile and I was angry. I did apologize for being angry, but to my mind the whole situation was extremely frustrating. The supervisor asked me if I wanted to reschedule or not. Of course, I had to reschedule or risk my nephew’s well-being. While the supervisor was pushing pieces of paper at me backing up their policy, he did not provide any information on how to proceed with my complaint.

Because I can articulate my thoughts in writing and because I know how to contact the media and our state and national representatives, I knew writing a letter would be one way of getting listened to. But I wondered what happens with the women and men who feel rudely or unfairly treated and have no way of complaining, without fear.

I know people in need of help can be difficult and argumentative because they are in desperate situations, but is that a reason to treat them this way?

My sister was cut off from public assistance in November because she missed two appointments. Subsequently, she and my nephew were sleeping outdoors and eating candy for meals. She did not let me or other family members know that her situation was that desperate, although I did have her son with me a few weeks prior to her death.

There was a lifetime of unfortunate circumstances leading to my sister’s death. But as I sat there in the DSHS office, I wondered whether my sister was just one second late for her appointment. I could also experience firsthand why she and the other clients at this office would be too ashamed to ask for help.

Every attitude and rule tells you what a criminal — yes, I stick to that description — you are for needing help. My good job and hard work at achieving a suitable lifestyle for me, my daughter and nephew did not buffer me from feeling like I needed to just shut up and be grateful for my treatment.

Whatever your feelings about WorkFirst and other public assistance programs, I hope you are just as appalled as I am that our taxes pay for people to be treated in this manner.

In my short time in the office, people in the waiting area were afraid to go to the bathroom and miss being called. One woman called ahead and was told her documents were set to go. She had an obvious disability preventing her from standing or walking very well. Yet when she arrived by bus, she had to wait, and then was told to stand in a line, although she could not stand without pain.

Another person in the reception area said she came in on time for a set appointment, but waited nearly the whole day to see someone.

Because I know how systems work, I immediately began e-mailing Gov. Gary Locke, Sen. Slade Gorton, Rep. George Nethercutt and Washington state Rep. Jeff Gombosky. I detailed what had just happened and got responses from almost all of them.

Suddenly, DSHS employees were calling me with apologies and explanations. The supervisor called and said, “I apologize for our breakdown in communication.”

I had another appointment a week later. I didn’t arrive 15 minutes early, but I was more than on time. Everyone was kind. My nephew’s benefits came through. So my story has a satisfactory ending, but I worry about those who need services but lack the skills and resources I had.

My dream is that DSHS would have a customer bill of rights posted in the offices where people come for services. My dream is that if staff members are available, no matter when you come in, they will see you. My dream is that staff members would think of their mother, their sister, their son, who might someday need help, and ask: “How would I hope they would be assisted?”

And then act accordingly.