By the middle of my first week at the hostel, which would have been my third week in Chicago, I'd settled into a nice little routine. I went to class, came back to the hostel, dropped my bag, grabbed my wallet and a book, went to dinner, came back, read, and went to sleep. It was pretty basic, no bells or whistles. Some days, when it was really nice outside, I would take a walk 4 blocks east to the beach---yes, Chicago has a beach, on the shores of Lake Michigan. It wasn't Ocean City, but it worked for me. But in between this seemingly mundane schedule, I was making phone calls to the office of Lucifer himself. The Section 8 office.
Now for those of you who may be reading this post who are unaware of how Section 8 works, here is a quick and dirty rundown of the process. You decide to move into your own house/apartment/condo/cardboard box/etc, and to do so, you require a bit of help. Maybe you have 2 small children, and are unable to pay for daycare in addition to rent (we ALL know how expensive daycare can be) or maybe you were like me---at 20-something college student who wanted to strike out on her own and build a life. Seeing as how you have the desire to live on your own, but not the funds, you catch wind of the Section 8 program. According to Wikipedia (my go-to place for all my hard facts) Section 8 "authorizes the payment of rental housing assistance to private landlords on behalf of approximately 3.1 million low-income households. It operates through several programs, the largest of which, the Housing Choice Voucher program, pays a large portion of the rents and utilities of about 2.1 million households. The US Department of Housing and Urban Development manages the Section 8 programs". The idea is that NO ONE should ever pay more than 30% of their gross monthly income on housing. Section 8 works with the family to prorate the rent, and make it affordable. So if you only make $600 a month, and you attempt to rent an apartment that costs $300 a month, a Section 8 voucher may bring the rent of the unit down to $75 a month (other factors go into the decision---how many children you have, how old you are and if you are eligible to work, etc.). The government will then pay the landlord the remainder $225 to pay the rent in full---you can see how nice this makes things for the landlords. As I heard one man say: "Who WOULDN'T want guranteed money?"
Ideally, a head of household fills out the application, provides all necessary information, criminal backround checks are done, and family is either accepted into the program or rejected. A meeting is held, and the family is given a voucher. What is a voucher? Think, "The Golden Ticket" in Willy Wonka, or The Second Amendment for gun nuts----the Voucher opens up your chances to find independent housing. So you take your voucher, find a place, a landlord rents you the home, and all is well in the world. Sounds good right? Not so fast.
There are PLENTY of glitches that can happen along the way. Please, DO NOT count this as a comprehensive list, but in my experience, these are the most commonly occurring problems:
1. Lost paperwork. I can't tell you how many copies of my birth certificate are probably floating around Chicago even today in the Section 8 office because my worker constantly lost my paperwork. If you have even one SHRED of paperwork missing, your case can be delayed for months.
2. The dreaded Waiting List. No one wants to hear they have been wait-listed. I've known people who have been on "The List" for months---even years. This can happen because of an influx of applications, or a lack of funding.
3. Prejudicial landlords. There are some landlords who will flat out refuse to rent to Section 8 voucher holders, often because of past experiences. One landlord told me, "Filth. All it was was filth."
3a. Landlord reluctance to bring their unit up to "inspection code." Okay, Section 8 has a laundry list of expectations a unit must meet before any cash is doled out. If in any way the unit you have chosen does NOT pass inspection, you are prohibited from renting that unit with your voucher, and have 60 days to find a new unit that WILL pass. The problem is, many landlords feel that the repairs that must be made (smoke detectors in every room, screens in every window, railings for every set of stairs, etc.) are not worth their effort or money.
4. The headache. Dealing with Section 8, much like any other social service office is just one huge freaking HEADACHE. The people are rude, unhelpful, and often you will find yourself spending the entire day in the Section 8 office only to be told when you finally get to the front of the line that you have forgotten to dot an 'i' or cross a 't', and therefore, your voucher will be delayed for another 3 months.
Needless to say, dealing with Section 8 was not on my list of favorite things to do. I'd been in regular contact with them, and although I seemed to be going through more headache than I did in Pittsburgh, I was getting closer to my own place---which was a good thing since I only had a few more days left at the hostel at this point. I'd already been looking into apartments, and I'd even went around to see a few, but to no avail (see #3 and 3A). I was scheduled to go to a meeting to complete the final paperwork and recieve my voucher the next morning.
Not only is the physical Section 8 office in Chicago depressing, getting there is an excercise in self-flagellation----one of the worst rides in my life on public transportation was the ride to the Section 8 office. I felt like I was beating myself up every step of the way: on the train (punch to the gut), finding a seat (jab to the jaw), walk in the office (pile-driver on the head). I want people who have never had to go the route of public assistance to understand this: the process can be dehumanizing. You are often treated less than human, and looked down upon, as if you are not as worthy as time, space, and oxygen because you are poor. It's a horrible feeling.
After getting to the office, sitting in a room with 4 other women in various stages in their lives, and being given a 2-hour lecture on the importance of transferring our vouchers, we were sent to our new workers. My worker was a youngish woman in her mid to late 30s, who had had too many young, uneducated mothers on her caseload. Conversation:
Me (smiling): Hello, I'm Gene----
Worker (without eye contact): I need all yo' information: pay stubs, phone bills, bank account statements, social security cards, birth certificates, an' anything else pertainin' to yo' account (Chicagoans have DEEP midwest accents).
Me (stunned---even the workers in the Pittsburgh office looked at you): Um, okay, here's all of my stuff. (I hand her a neatly paperclipped bundle of papers).
Worker (studying my bank account statements): You got Nextel?
Me (looking down at my cell phone): Yes. I've had it since I was in Pittsburgh and----
Worker (without eye contact): You order from Amazon?
Me (confused): Yeah, I go to school and I needed my books, and since we don't have a bookstore----
Worker (in the same monotone): Where you work at?
Me (getting ticked): I DON'T. (She finally looks up at me with a 'don't-try-to-get-smart-I-will-send-yo-ass-to-the-back-of-the-line' look)
Worker (without breaking eye contact): Then HOW you essplain' a deposit for $4000?
Me: Easy---I go to school, and I get a loan check twice a year. Whatever doesn't pay for school pays for expenses. Since I don't work, right now, I make about $8000 per year which is WELL below your cut off point.
Worker (brightening): Oh you go school? Dat's reeeeel niiiiiice. I go to school to fo' social work. Whatchu go fo'?
Me (not believing that people actually talked like that): Forensic psychology.
Worker: Oh that soun' INTRESTIN'. You like it?
Me: Yes, I do actually.
Worker (still giving me the Steppin' Fetchit smile): That's reeeel good. Okay, look, dis is what's gonna happen. You don't work, right?
Me: No.
Worker: You got no other income?
Me (sighing): No.
Worker: Well how you buy yo' kids they shoes and pampers?
(And HERE is where we come to one of the most frustrating parts of recieving any type of government benefits---the assumption that the recipient has a bucket-load of children they are unable (or unwilling) to care for. NEWS FLASH: Not everyone who recieves assistance has children. Some people are hard on their luck, some people (like myself) were students, and some people----and the more I see this the more I cry----just miss the I.Q. cut off for mental retardation and are ineligible for adult assistive services. Therefore, they obtain a menial job, and apply for Section 8 in the hopes that their paycheck will be enough to give them some independence).
Me: I don't have children. I'm just a graduate student who needs some help for 2 years until I complete my degree. That's all I want---2 years. That was how I got through college---I worked all night, went to school all day, and Section 8 kept my rent low enough to survive.
Worker: Okay, I understan' but they not gonna like seein' yo' bank statments. You got regular deposits every two weeks from...PNC Bank?
Me (closing my eyes): Yes, because I was EMPLOYED. I was in PITTSBURGH and EMPLOYED. The Pittsburgh office is well aware of that, and----
Worker: But then tha' mean you got employment so----
Me (losing all decorum): HOW CAN I BE EMPLOYED IN A CITY THAT'S 600 MILES FROM HERE????
Worker (looking down at the papers with her mouth hanging WIDE open): Oh.....
Me (sarcastically): Yeeeeeaaaaaahh. See what I mean now? You want 6 months of bank statements, and 6 months ago I WAS employed. I WAS working. But I'm NOT anymore because I now live in CHICAGO.
Worker: Okay, well, I see whatchu mean now. Okay, well when you need soap an' stuff, how you get it?
Me (in full stroke mode): I have STUDENT LOAN REFUND I use. I make it last ALL YEAR.
Worker: Well, they not gonna see it like dat. I mean, you can tell them that, but then they gonna say you need to come down here ev'ry 6 monts wit reeee-ciets and show how you gettin' yo' basic need stuff.
Me (sighing in frustration and exasperation and on the edge of giggles because of the ridiculousness of the conversation): You really expect me to miss a day of class every 6 months to sit in this place all day to show you reeee-ciets of how I buy my pads?
Worker: That's how they's do it. It cut down on fraud. (leaning in) Is you able to buy your books and stuff for school?
Me: Yeah. Well, kind of.
Worker (concerned): Youse go to half.com and they help you get yo' books okay? That's where I go, and they have reeeeal nice books that's reeeeel cheap.
Me (confused): Thanks (?)
Worker (gathering my papers): This what Im'ma do for you. Im'ma talk to my boss and say, youse a nice girl, and go to school, and new in tha city and don't have no job yet. They can put some special papers through for you.
Me (relieved I wasn't losing my voucher): Thank you! Should I come back tommorrow? Will it be done then? (It was already Wednesday----my room at the hostel was only paid up until Saturday. If this office got off their asses, I could find a place, get inspected, and move in by Sunday)
Worker (laughing at my obvious stupidity): Oh no honey! See, youse got to be reviewed. That can take a lil' while.
Me (in another cold sweat that had come to define my time in Chicago thus far): How long?
Worker: Not long at all! About three or fo' weeks. Youse stay righ' here, Im'ma talk to my boss!
As the woman clicked away on heels that were much too high for a social service job, I almost passed out. Three to four WEEKS??? That meant I would have to pay to stay in the hostel for at least another month. That meant a HUGE dent would be put in my cash that I set aside to pay for a truck to drive my stuff from Pittsburgh to Chicago, pay my security deposit and first months' rent, pay for my daily expenses, my fare cards, and---most importantly---it would mean a dent in the money I was saving to fly home for Thanksgiving. I swallowed. There was no spit to swallow.
"Don't panic. Do not panic." I told myself. "You've come too far already to fold. Just power through it."
My worker clicked back to me beaming from ear-to-ear. "She said yes, we gonna review it! The date fo' the review is....2 weeks from tommorrow. We gots a lot of people in your shoes that need reviews," she said nodding her head in earnest.
"Okay, so for now I can just...."
"Keeps doing whatchu doing, and we gonna call in 2 weeks for the review!" she said excitedly.
"Alright, thank you for your help," I said standing up and grabbing my bag. That meant I actually had to pay for a total of 6 weeks at the hostel. 6 weeks.
"You welcome. See you then," she said ushering me out of the office.
As I rode back to town ("punch", "kick", "pile drive") I made myself a promise. I was going to stick through this, no matter how hard it was going to be. I made a decision, and The Windy City wasn't going to blow me away.
How could I have known what was coming down the pipe?
No comments:
Post a Comment