I’ve got the energy to clean now. Oh yeah.
After three weeks of telling me not to worry about it, she’d get Chris’ stuff, my case worker has told me the only problem is the money the manager is gouging, and I’ll need to take care of it.
Thanks so much. $265, and no one ever bothered to inspect the room, so there’s no way I can contest it. Not to mention the joy of betrayal, yet again. “Don’t worry about anything,” hell. Why won’t I learn that these people exist only to fuck me over?
Oh, but she’s going to try to push through a housing allotment for me, so I just need to get my landlord’s address and SSN. Good luck. I don’t even know the man’s full name. He doesn’t tell anyone where he lives–with good reason. John will rent to anyone. With me and Chris, it was a second chance, and we did pretty well with it. Others are less–savory.
God forbid she just give me the money. What does she think I’d do with it? Take a cruise?
The figure she tossed out for the housing allotment is $1500. Can I reasonably say that she’s trying to buy me off? Yes, I think I can. Can I prove it? No. Can I do a damn thing about this without screwing myself worse? No.
Can I trot over there to the motel where my husband killed himself and deal with the manager who helped to drive him to it? Yes. But what if I do, and then the housing allotment doesn’t happen? If I can’t pay my rent, I lose the only light left in my life. It’s not like the caseworker has been exactly trustworthy before.
Can I sue their asses off? I can try. But what can I win? Money that was supposed to go to children in need, and in the case of COPE, to help the mentally ill. What a fucking victory that would be. The PEOPLE who did this would still go right on screwing the helpless for the sheer joy of it.