An
inner circle of hell
I've seen an inner circle of hell - and
it's run by the state of Michigan.
In case you missed it,
state politicians conducted a hearing in downtown Flint
on Wednesday to talk about problems with the state's
unemployment system.
Calling it a system is way too generous.
It's a disaster, literally and figuratively.
We're not
talking welfare queens and Cadillac punks here.
We're
not talking about people who milk the system.
We're largely
talking about - and I mean this in the best sense of
the words - working stiffs.
Folks like you and me, folks
who pay the mortgage, buy the prescriptions, put the
gas in the car, move on down the road to work, get the
kids to school. White and black. Young and old. Male and
female. Rich and poor.
They've lost their jobs for all kinds
of reasons. Some were laid off. Some were "at-will" employees,
cut loose. Some saw people with less seniority - but related to
the boss - keep jobs while they lost theirs.
They've been
without a steady income for weeks. Some for months.
And
they are just about at their wit's end. Not to mention
the end of their money and the end of their sanity.
Wednesday,
more than one person was shaking. More than one person
was crying. More than one person was yelling.
Being jobless
in America always has been a dehumanizing, depersonalizing,
humiliating experience. It generally meant standing in
lines for hours, filling out mind-numbing forms and then
getting that first, all-important check in maybe two
weeks.
That check was enough - usually - to
scrape by until another job popped up. And if there were
problems, there were people right there to help a jobless
worker fix a form or to answer a question.
There were even
people in line with you; at least you could share war
stories.
No more. For two years - two years! -
the state has been working on a new, 100 percent phone
system. No more lines. No more forms. Just an easy 800
number.
Except it has failed. Miserably.
One persistent
gentlemen at the hearing said he dialed the "hot
line" 3,112
times over a two-day period.
He got through - three
times.
One young man was laid off and did all
the right things. He applied for benefits. He set up a
deal with his landlord for a break on the rent.
Then he
waited for the state to come through with the all-important
first check.
He's still waiting.
His landlord isn't.
The young man's been evicted.
With no fixed address and
no phone, he's taken to sleeping in his 1989 GMC Safari.
Sometimes he sleeps in shopping mall parking lots. Sometimes
he gets rousted out of public parks by police. Sometimes
he parks in front of a friend's house.
By and large, these
folks have earned their unemployment. They worked for
it; it was put aside for them. It's sloshing around in
a $1.5-billion trust fund.
But they can't get it. And they
can't find out why they can't get it.
And they are slipping
under. Financially. Physically. Mentally.
State officials
say the problems are easing. I wonder. Are they easing
- or are people just giving up? And which head rolls
at the state level for screwing this up so, so badly?
Time
will tell.
But for many, it will be time spent in
financial hell.
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