I had my second cup of coffee before I stepped out, as I was slowly enjoying it I thought to myself, “remember this moment and how at peace you are with yourself, remember this moment when you realize that your day is going by slow or in case you feel a headache coming on” so I sat in silence and enjoyed that coffee like I was facing execution right after it. I’d submitted an application online the day before but was referred to an office that was extremely out of the way. There was an Exposition Park branch of the DPSS (Department of Public Social Services) by my mom’s house and decided to go to that branch as soon as my coffee was done, it was just after eight a.m. Turns out that branch only services parents and children and was told to go to the downtown offices on the corner of Adams and Grand. I thought to myself, “no problem, I got this” I took a liberated trip in the new expo line and got off at the Adams stop by LATTC a.k.a. “Trade Tech” as I made my way to the office I wondered if that would be my only trip or if I was in for a long day. I was in for a long day. The gentleman at the service counter told me that since I’d submitted my application to the South East division there was nothing I could do because they could not access my file until I personally checked in with those offices. He gave me my case and file number and politely asked that I go to the office in South East LA and take care of my paperwork there. Being that I had no choice but to go to that office I took my first deep sigh and realized that yes, it was going to be a long day, I would have to take at least four buses and I did'nt have a dollar on me. I walked over to Broadway and as I did so I prepared my wrap for the bus drivers I would encounter on my trek to Gage and Holmes, a courtesy ride is nothing new to me, I used to take them all the time in high school when I wanted to save a few bucks, but this time it was different because I legitimately did not have a dollar to my name. “ Hey brother/sister the county fucked up my paper work and I have to go down to Gage to fix the issue but I don’t have any money” it was between that and the regular, “Bus driver, may I please get a courtesy ride?” and say no more. The first bus came the 45, I chose to go with the first story just to warm up in case I should encounter a hostile bus driver down the line. He said, “sure man, get in” I exited Gage and began walking east, it took me a while to realize I had the address and could make a more or less accurate assesment of how long the walk would take me. I quickly realized that it would take me more than ten industrial blocks in the hot sun before I hit the street where the third building was located. I walked to the closest bus stop and by the mercy of the good lord found a stop that was under the shade of a tree. Again, I worked on my wrap for this next bus driver, I told myself I would stick to the first story, luckily by the time I got on the bus I realized that the machine where you insert your bus fare was jammed and the driver was therefore letting everyone get in for free.
I arrived at the third building or the “District 17” building, just outside the entrance were two ladies in colorful scrubs offering medical services to the people who were coming out and had just been approved for Medi-cal. I walked to the customer service counter and told them my story, I was referred to a window and was helped by two workers who found my case and assigned me a personal worker. I sat in the waiting area and waited for about a half hour, during that half hour I noticed the others who were waiting for social services, young mothers, elderly women with their grandchildren, young men and I was called up. The worker said that he was glad to see me because he was about to give me a call and notify me that those offices too were designed specifically for parents, also he stated that I what I need to ask for was Adult GR (general relief) and that I had filled out the online application incorrectly which is why the automated online application was sent to that particular office. He quickly cancelled my application and said that I had to re-apply but at one of the centers that specifically handles Adult GR, and of course he told me I had to go back to the office that I’d just come from but I had to wait a 24 hour period. He did his best and was as helpful as he could be given the fact that I was going to be forgotten within the next hour due to his work load. By this time the sun was at its peak and it was already one o’clock. But I was still determined. I would not go home, I had already found my rhythm and was not giving up that easily. I told the Gage route bus driver, “I need to get to Broadway to handle some county paper work in downtown” with no hesitation he said, “come on” it should be noted that there is a certain sense of slight embarrassment when asking for a courtesy ride because the stigma of the L.A. commuter is that you’re at the bottom of the social ladder and asking for a courtesy ride is letting your fellow commuters know that you don’t have enough money for even a bus ride and therefore have resorted to asking for a free ride. I felt no shame, yet it was odd because I didn’t feel this stigma when I would ask for courtesy rides as a teenager. Never the less I was under the hot sun and now on the corner of Gage and Broadway on my way up to downtown. By then I had already developed lower class commuter swag, as in when the bus came I just told the driver, “Yo man, I’m going up to the county building on Adams, can I get a ride?” again with no hesitation the driver let me in and I was off.
When I finally arrived back to the Downtown building helicopters were swarming and black and whites were all over Grand. Turns out some guy was in a police pursuit but abandoned the car he was in right in front of the building and blended in with everyone that was in and around the building, when the cops came asking, everyone said they didn’t see where the suspect had gone, but once the police were gone everyone was talking about what direction the guy had gone and what he looked like. There was a long line but it was moving relatively fast, people were selling loose cigarettes, Medi-cal scams, job hunting scams and various other black market services for all of those that were recently approved for whatever service they had gone in to the building for. Finally I was given a number and was asked to take a seat, it was just after 2p.m.
In the ground floor there are two lobbies and you can go back and forth for hours depending on how many of the available services you’re asking for. I asked for GR, Cal-Fresh and Cal-Works, I was given a number and from the start all I heard were names. It was loud, and the lobby was packed with more people standing by the walls waiting for their name or number to be called, in front of me was a couple with a child, the child was crying and the man was showing his son tough love, I heard him tell his son, “why you crying? You’re gonna hit yo' head 20 times a day, and I know you aint gonna cry every time you hit yo’self” he was reprimanding his partner for holding him, he told her, “you gotta toughen him up, all that baby-ing your doing is gone make him soft…” he was interrupted only by the fact that he like I, like the couple next to me realized that we might be in the wrong lobby because they weren’t calling out any numbers, the young lady next to me was telling her boyfriend, “ay babe, just go ask, we’ve been waiting for like an hour and they haven’t called us” to which he replied, “just wait, the lady said we’re in the right place and they’ll call our number” just as he got up to comply with his girlfriend’s wish one more time, a worker in one of the windows began calling out numbers, I was A107, we stood in line and received thick packages that contained the forms for all of the services we were requesting. We were told to go to the adjacent lobby and wait for our name to be called by our worker.
Now the adjacent lobby was a whole other trip. There was a kind of solidarity that they don’t teach you in college. If there was one commonality it’s that we were/are broke and we are all on that level and no one person in there requesting those services is above anyone else, that and for the most part we were all inpatient and highly irritable because some had been in there for well over seven hours and still had not been fully helped. There was a young cat going up and down the isles talking to everyone as if he knew them all, he was no older than 21 slender and letting everyone know that he had dope readily available, “aight my dude, hit me up you know I got that “X” that weed, whatever you need my dude” there were some that were playing music through their cell phone speakers like they were ghetto blasters. Because of its location most people were of color, mostly black and brown, most were young, homeless, some elderly folks, at one point a group of people began mocking a transgender person yelling, “you know you’re a boy right??” a shouting match ensued and the sheriff came in, everyone quieted down. Someone in the background said, “Damn they got us up in here like it’s county jail or some shit!” and everyone minded their business again. And sure enough the sheriff’s presence could be felt as two officers, two heavy set women scanned the room, everyone avoiding eye contact, myself included. Everyone seemed to have an angle as to how to fill out a given application, what to say, how to answer, what to ask for and everyone gladly exchanged details black and brown, in that sense uncle Sam had a way of unifying the working poor, regardless of gang affiliation of perceived economic status.
It was at that moment that a much deeper sense of critical thought kicked in. frustration was beginning to set in, I closed my eyes took a deep breath and recalled what I’d told myself just that morning before heading out the door. It was my nirvana, recalling that inner peace, that inner tranquility that I felt as I sipped on that coffee looking out of my mom’s kitchen window. When I opened my eyes I saw a completely different scene that I knew from the start but didn’t quite get. Someone next to me just blurted out, “God damn this shit is taking forever, I just wanna get my shit and be out!” and various county workers kept coming out of doors, yelling out names and numbers, everyone hoping that it would be their name called and when it was all you heard were sighs of relief and “God Lord Jesus thank you!” and that’s when it hit me. This is privilege, undeniable privilege. I told myself, if it weren’t for the fact that I have “proper documentation” I would be extremely fucked. I think I’m at the bottom but I’m really not. This option has always existed for me, I just didn’t want to take this route. My mom never needed it, my grandparents never needed it, and I therefore thought I would never need it, but my reality is different. I need it. And I have to thank my lucky stars that I have the capability of applying, if I was "undocumented" I would be shit out of luck. How many people aren’t in the predicament I’m in, but without the access to these services? How many people are really worse off than me but can’t get this help?
At about close to five p.m. my worker finally called my name, “Daniel Morales” I walked to the door and she presented herself, “Hi Daniel, my name is Miss Rodriguez I’ll be your worker follow me." I followed her, filled out my applications and I qualified, I didn’t make it out till well after five. The office was relatively empty in comparison to how it was just an hour before, I was in the last line with the last of the people applying, and everyone was in a more cheerful mood because our process was pretty much done. The only thing remaining was to receive our Cal-Fresh cards and our bag of free bus tokens, I walked out and made my way to my sixth free metro ride that day, as I walked to the station down Adams I did something I rarely do, I said a prayer, I stopped at a red light, looked to the sky and thanked the lord for every humbling yet eye opening experience that I lived that day and quietly made my way back to my mom’s house.
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