i dont want tobe anything other than me

Shortly, a security guard walks up to me.

"What are you waiting here for?" A work evaluation. He waves me over frantically. I rise and fall into step behind him. He stops in front of two other guards. "Where's blah blah blah." One of the guards responds: "Blah blah blah did not come in today and will not be in tomorrow." OH NO, not this shit again. A woman fires past us hurriedly. The Security Guard, as quick as he can says to her: "Hey, who's back there??" "Nobody," she says over her shoulder as she disappears. The Security guard looks at me and hunches his shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you." I know one thing motherfuckers. YOU can't leave unless I do. If I'm getting screwed, YOU'RE getting screwed. It's just a fact of life. NO, I'm not that hateful, but I smell a game being played on me by Security Guards, when Security Guards start to ask SECURITY GUARDS administrative questions. They wanted me to give up so that they can radio that the great hall was clear and they could go home. Tell me anything, but get me out.

I look at my watch. Ten to Six. I return to my CNN. I'm not playing this game again. Not again. This is their fucking way of wearing you out so that they can cut your benefits. How can you loose my paperwork twice and keep me here if it wasn't intentional. Then the electrically burned woman returns, hands flailing as if on fire. "What are you here for?" A Work Evaluation. She asks the other guy behind me what is he here for. He says something. I can't hear him. Then she is gone.

I turn to CNN, and as soon as my attention gets locked on it, does this clown return, waving her hands. "Come follow me guys. I'm trying to get you out of here." We follow her, this time to the main elevators. She lets me off at the second floor. Leaning out of the elevator she points down the corridor. "The office is down there." The elevator door closes. I walk to an office who's door is ajar. "Come in," a woman says from inside. I walk into clutter and memorabilia. "Have a seat," this pristine, stern, sour woman says, typing on her keyboard. "Mr Hobobob?" Yes, that' me. "We need to reschedule you for your evaluation to be carried out at WECare. Do you know of them?" Who doesn't. I shake my head. Fucking NOCare. Fucking WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUCare. Yes I know of them.

She makes an appoint- ment for me to go there in two days, Wed- nesday. I am to collect all of my medical records and anything else that will help my case in ONE FUCKING DAY!!! What the fuck is this shit??? She walks me out of her office to a printer in another room, snatches up a handful of papers from it's top, shoving them at me, and then back to her office where she collects her coat and bag and heads for the stairs.

"You must report to WHEEEcare for a comprehensive medical assessment to evaluate your capacity to participate in HRA required activities...your appointment is at 8:00AM."

The Assessment, it says, is to last four hours. Fuck. Dude, that's not four hours of someone assessing you. If you believe that, you need your head soaked. It's a MINIMUM four hour waiting period. Oh yes, you'll be waiting again, for an interminably long period of time. The rest of the papers are medical release forms for HIV and general HIPAA shit. Railroaded again. Fuck, and tomorrow is Dr. D. who told me that he was going to drop me out of his therapy sessions. But I just don't feel like doing anything after fighting with this shit half the day. I'm taking a day off tomorrow. Yep, I can do that when I'm unemployed. Fuck the world. That's what two days of this Social Services shit will make you feel like. Fuck the world. Now it's...the job farm. Either that or they're going to honor the fact that I have three therapists and one Doctor to see weekly or are they going to traipse me around, back and forth, to their little job farm and 'find' something for me to do for 35 hours a week, including lunch.

The really fucked up thing about their plan, at the job farm... because I've been there once before, when I was in the streets and they finally got a letter to me through General Delivery at the Post Office. This time I went in with all of these 'hopefulls', poor people off the streets that are honestly looking for help to find jobs. Then, there were the ubiquitous ex-cons, trying to integrate into a society that wants, no prefers them to be recidivists. And the homeless, like I was at the time, walking in with my entire home on my back. My brother laughed at me when I went to WEcare to get this job from the job bank. Only to find that these dumb asses couldn't even get their shit together. They gave us test after test. Math tests, reading tests, comprehension tests, saliva tests, sperm tests...no, just shitting you on the last two. But we were all elbows and pencils for something like four hours. From Nine to Noon. Then they let everyone go out and get lunch.

Now I had told them earlier that I can't 'go out and get lunch' because I eat at soup kitchens. And they run on a schedule. I have to go between the hours of 10:30 and 11:30 to 'get lunch'. Do you know these useless motherfuckers tested me until twelve?? When I brought up the fact that now I'll have to starve for the second half of my first day here, they only hunched their shoulders. Then we were back to the tests. More tests, until about three O'clock. Then they stop to prepare us for our day tomorrow. We were to come in wearing suits for the guys and dresses for the girls. We needed to be professional upon entering the building. I couldn't believe what these dumb motherfuckers were saying. Here I am wearing all the clothes that I fucking OWN!! When I bring this simple fact up to them, they state to me not to worry, they have connections with many of the missions in the area who give out suits to the needy. Such as the Bowery Mission.

Now for those of you that don't know. I fucking frequented the Bowery Mission like some of you have your bathrooms. I know that they, and the three other missions that they mentioned, DO NOT HAVE SUITS just hanging there for everyone. It is as 'As Has' basis. If they have suits they'll give you suits. But lets just say that they have TWO suits for me? What am I going to do? Hang them in my fucking wardrobe??

Uggh, I'm ranting. I've blogged about all of this madness already about a year ago. If I can find it, I'll hyperlink it.

I take my fistful of papers and walk out of the empty building a second time in seven days. Security guards at their posts saying goodnight. The last security guard opens the door for me to walk out into the chill of the night.

And then locked the door behind me.

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/03/shortly-security-guard-walks-up-to-me.html
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