THE WELFARE WORKER

THE WELFARE WORKER Who would write about Welfare Workers? Who’d even care. Who would express the understanding, the compassion for their jobs, for their stares. Who would take the time to be curious about their minds? Who would wonder how they manage - how they manage so many caseloads and when they consult their supervisor do they do what they are told? I wonder if they take the time to care about a client? Or do they pride themselves on being strong and playing the role of Evil Tyrant? I wonder do they smile and really mean it when they greet you, or is it just a phoney front to find out how to treat you? They sit across their cluttered desk and ask us to hold on.. with phones a-ringing and they’re grinning, watching us to wait so long. Do you feel they treat us with even one ounce of respect? Or are their noses so high up they forget that you exist.. alas! You’re the one to demand & to persist “Oh pardon us for being here and ruining your day. But we just came to get some Help if that’s okay.” Some sit in judgement as if they’re Queen or King Tut. So let me tell you something Bub, while you sit so self-indulged: If it wasn’t for people like us you wouldn’t have a job. I wonder if they think to bid you a fond farewell, or when they turn their heels so fast do they mutter, “I wish you’d go to hell.”? There are the few and far between – so keen and so intent – who sincerely give a damn about your means, about your rents. The ones who are sincere are unselfish too; the4y’re genuinely concerned about well-being, about strife and you. So remember when you see me & figure I'm no good that I am the person, I am the human, I am the one who understood: How life ain’t always it should be; How difficult things are; that if the tables had been turned you’d be the one I saw. -a welfare recipient Written by Sylvia Josephine Merasty