Made a Stop At the Welfare Office

A long time friend of mine recently got a transfer to our local Dept of Children and Families Agency (DCF) so I stopped by there to meet her.

I used to work at DCF and of all the places I've ever worked DCF probably conjures up the most mixed feelings in my mind. I don't think anyone who has ever worked at DCF can say it was an enjoyable experience. If you work for a government agency like DCF you have to truly be inspired to do so or be out of your mind. I met both working there. The pay sucks, the hours are long and your clients can be dangerous (Seriously. I nearly got beat up by a mental patient whilst being 7 mos preggo) and your bosses are cruel. But could I blame them, they had the state on top of their heads.

I entered DCF and plopped myself down in the waiting area. I wanted to see the nitty gritty of this place. A bit of breathlessness came over me as I started reminiscing about my days there. I saw so many things that are too hard to describe in words. I met so many people who lives touch your soul. It seemed like lifetimes ago, but it's really only been 6 years. I wondered if any of the people I used to work with were still here; had quit or were in a mental facility. This place has been known to drive people crazy. I'm not lying.

While lost in thought, in strolls one of the usual suspects. She was a ghetto fabulous woman dressed in clothes probably the price of my car payment. She had bling around her neck that was worth more than my monthly rent. Her weave was immaculately done and probably cost her an automobile insurance payment. A Duny & Burke bag was slung across her shoulder and with complete ease she kept her balance on stiletto heels about 3 inches high. I remembered these welfare recipients all too well. We could never catch them in their crimes. They were always a step ahead of us. It was always a wonder how they managed to screw over the system. I'd seen the likes of her being dropped off in Escalades and Denalis. It was no secret that they made more money than the highest paid social worker. However, because their cash came from "street work" there was no way to track it down. They knew it and so they took advantage of the system and got full welfare benefits.

I was immediately jolted out of my thoughts about Ms. Ghetto-Fab when I spotted a well dressed Caucasian man entering the premises. He looked quite disoriented and out of place. To see a man in a fine Italian business suit, carrying a briefcase saunter into DCF meant one of two things. He was either from the state (Tallahassee) being sent to investigate something or times are really tough on folks if a man of this caliber has to seek welfare assistance.

A clerk at the customer service desk asked if she could help him. I couldn't hear his response, but I could see that he was being directed to the line waiting to apply for benefits. I watched him walk over to the line and stand there. After a short while he made it to the front of the line and approached the counter. He was given a number and told to sit in the waiting area until his number was called. I couldn't help but wonder what brought this most unlikely gentleman into DCF.

I continued to people watch. Things really haven't changed all that much at DCF. Maybe the programs have, but the people walking through the doors look pretty much the same. Young girls barely old enough to drive were waiting for welfare checks for their babies. Grandmothers were seeking bennies for grandchildren they care for because their parents were probably strung on drugs or skipped out on their children. Immigrants who barely spoke a word of English sought assistant for their children who had been born in this country. An HIV/Aids victim looking gaunt requested food from the HIV/Aids food bank. Life goes on at DCF. I don't miss it, but I'm glad for the experience.

I learnt a lot there. I experienced things that will change my life forever. I saw the depth and the ability of the human spirit. I will never forget Ludwig or people like her. She was a fellow Haitian. She had made it to the shores of Florida on a man made wooden boat. She brought her 4 children with her on the perilous trip. She had such an inspirational story to tell and shared it at the center where she volunteered.

She volunteered at a program to help adult Haitians go back to school. She had such a passion for this. Her passion came out of her own experience. When she came to this country she didn't speak a word of English. She was able to qualify for political asylum which enabled her to start working relatively quickly. The only jobs she could work were housekeeping and custodian positions. With four children ranging in age from 5 - 14 her meager salary could hardly do much. She received assistance from DCF through the asylum program and that helped out a little. She realized her only hope for a better future was an education so she pushed her children in every educational endeavour. Her children excelled in the educational system although they came here knowing not a word of English. They went from being in the bottom of their class to being on the honor roll.

Then it dawned on her that she should go back to school, so she signed up for night classes so she could learn to read, write and speak English. She said many of her friends laughed and told her she was too old to be in school. Her children helped her study and she was able to get her GED. She didn't stop there. She decided to become a nurse. Six years later she graduated with a bachelors in nursing. All four of her children have bachelors degrees. All of them are giving back to the community in some ways. It's stories like these that made working at DCF doable. Every so often I'll think about DCF, but only for the inspirational people like Ludwig.


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