I knew my boss was making plans to transfer me to either the Houston or Mobile office, but did not know how long this would take, as our main office was flooded badly and things were in chaos. I really got scared. I picked up the newspaper and saw two things that struck me in a special report on Katrina assistance. The first was an announcement that all of the major insurance carriers were setting up mobile claims offices all over Louisiana and the second was a report about emergency food stamp assistance for storm victims.
The state of Louisiana was concerned about the number of people who lost their homes or, in the areas like Houma that were not hit hard, who lost power for a few days and their food had spoiled etc. A relief program provided for service centers to be set up where people who had suffered damage could go and apply for assistance. This assistance was comprised of a onetime payment ranging from $100 to $900 depending on the amount of loss.
I had worked so hard my whole life, and had never taken from the government or been on any kind of assistance. It was really hard for me to fathom having to ask for help. But I also knew I had three kids and my mom to feed and no access to my bank account. I put aside my pride and decided to go that evening to the service center.
I arrived at the center, which looked to be an old Wal-Mart or something like that which had been closed and for this program turned into an office with cubicles. The scene before me when I got out of my car was astonishing. There were National Guardsmen directing traffic, and then directing people where to go to find the end of the line. There were tents set up with a queue of lines underneath them that seemed to go on for miles.
I had assumed that by coming to the center at nine at night, the crowds would be light. The news had reported earlier that during the day people were waiting in line for hours. I was hoping this would not be the case for me. Now, seeing the throngs of people in line, I realized I was wrong. I could not believe the line. It wound around for rows and rows and rows. Some people even had folding chairs in line with them.
As I waited, I just observed. I stood in line; pictures of my home tucked away, and just watched and listened. At 1:00 a.m., I was about halfway to the door. The time was passing so slowly. One thing I noticed that really struck me and made me feel uneasy, was that I was the only person there alone. As the lines looped around, I would pass different sets of people and not once did I see anyone there alone. I felt so awful at that moment, and at the time decided it was the lowest point in my life.
Here I was in line for food stamps; I had in the course of one week gone from having a great career and a home with tons of equity to having nothing but three days worth of clothes and no access to my bank account. If anyone had ever asked me if I would ever be on any kind of public assistance, I would have laughed. But standing in that line, hoping to get even a hundred dollars worth of food to feed my kids, I was far from laughing.
I began to really listen to people’s conversations. It was out of boredom, not out of being nosy. Well, okay, maybe half out of being nosy…..but I was bored. Soon it became clear that listening to these people was a big mistake. The more I heard the angrier I became. Not to make any generalizations of the people there that evening, as I am sure there were many in my situation who were there to stay with relatives and were from hard hit areas like Mississippi and New Orleans, but some of the comments disgusted me. A small sample of what I overheard….
“I am gonna' tell them I had a big outside freezer and it was full of meat so they give me more money.”
“My power didn’t even go out, but I am going to tell them I lost all my food in my fridge and my storage freezer. They better give me nine hundred bucks after standing in this line all night.”
“Mama, you tell them you lost your food too and then you can get a card and give it to me.”
“Hell, I aint gonna’ have to buy groceries for a month after this. This is cool. We need these storms more often.”
“I’m gonna’ buy steaks with all of mine and we are gonna’ have a big cookout next week. Oh, and I need to save some for the drinks too. Can you buy beer with this thing?”
Here I stood, alone and feeling like the lowest form of humanity for even being there to take a handout from the government, and to so many of these people, it was a fun way to spend a Saturday night and get something for nothing. I was so angry. There were so many people who really needed help, and others who just wanted to take advantage. I guess every situation will always have a few bad apples.
I could feel the tears about to well up in my eyes and knew I had to stop them before they started or they would never stop and I would be so very embarrassed to cry in front of these strangers. About that moment, a National Guardsman came down the line offering the crowd what looked just like a can of Budweiser Beer, but an all white can with Anhauser Busch written on it in blue. Upon closer inspection I realized it was canned water. The young man, who looked to be no more than twenty five, approached me and offered me a can.
“Would you like some water?” He smiled and held a can out to me. I realize it was his job, but at that moment, just to have human contact and someone who seemed concerned was overwhelming.
“Thanks.” I took the can and turned back around.
“Miss, I am not trying to be nosy, but are you here by yourself?” He looked genuinely concerned.
“Yes.” It was all I could manage to say. I was just numb at that point.
“Well when you go to leave it will be really late so make sure one of us guys walks you to your car ok?”
“Thanks, I will.” I turned back to the line and he went on to the next group. I don’t know why his kind gesture sticks out in my mind, but it does. When you are at rock bottom, and someone extends a hand, even just to do their job, it can seem like a very big deal.
