StoryTime: The White Card Incident
(2,770 words but worth the read.)
In January of 2013, I was promoted from a part-time weekend job as a technology sales representative for Lenovo to the Marketing Development Manager for Lenovo in charge of half of my entire city of Houston. For a while, I felt like I was on top of the world. I loved my job and traveling through my city. I loved meeting all the people in the 50 plus stores I had to visit and started to memorize a lot of them and what we talked about.
I even made my route have me end up near Chinatown on some days so I could stop by and eat lunch there (and get some things from my favorite bakery.) But just as Kandace and I were planning on using this newfound position to get an apartment together, something terrible happened. In October of that year, we got on our weekly conference call as we always did, but the mood seemed somber and no one was talking or laughing like they used to.
When our boss came on, she also seemed upset and had trouble getting her words out. I could tell that everyone on the call, all 20 plus of us from across the United States just wanted her to say what was happening so we could rip the bandaid off. After a minute of praise that felt hollow given the tone of the call, someone finally asked if she could get to the news we were told to expect.
She said "sorry" and continued to tell us that the parent company we work for had lost the contract with Lenovo after failed negotiations and our positions were being terminated immediately. The call somehow fell more silent. Everyone had questions. Myself included. But in the end, we found out most of what we wanted to know. The Lenovo branded cars we drove were to be returned, (I had let my vehicle stay broken down as I didn't need it and it would be expensive to fix.)
The laptop we were provided was to be returned as well along with the phone, and hotspot device. But the most important bit of info came when someone asked if we would be allowed to apply for unemployment. "Of course we would be able to. We paid into it, we worked, we should be able to get that back." but to our surprise, the boss said something along the lines of "no don't do that! We could get in trouble! We haven't paid into that!" All of us were stunned. Someone asked how that was even possible.
It turns out the loophole in the law they had found was that because the company was in Akron Ohio, and we all worked and paid taxes in our various other cities somehow they managed to not pay into it. We didn't get bogged down into the why or how, but all that meant to us was suddenly we were without cars and a paycheck and would be denied unemployment. I was devastated. I really thought I had found a place to grow and could see myself making a career out of it.
We were about to sign papers on an apartment and suddenly I'm without a job, without a working car, and without any kind of financial assistance. Some issues happened around my family and after a short time, I got my car somewhat fixed and I moved out of the house into Dadaw's (grandmother's) house. I tried frantically to get another job. After all, I had just been in charge if half of Houston for a big company. Surely I would be offered another position somewhere soon.
But as time went by, nobody had called. I had very little money left, and very little outside help if any. Hope was dwindling, relationships were strained. I had spoken to at least 20 job placement agencies. After my mom informed me that I had been diagnosed as Autistic as a child, I had reconnected with D.A.R.S. (Department of Rehabilitative Services) who help people with disabilities get help with work and other things.
But they refuse to help me based on my other medical issues because they closed my case before, and they refused to help me as an Autistic until I got rediagnosed. They paid for me to be rediagnosed, I did so with no sleep, having skipped dinner and breakfast, and with a ridiculous amount of stress on my shoulders.
I aced their IQ test minus the memory portion, and after a while of convincing the doctor I was Autistic through old stories and experiences and the fact that I had been diagnosed, he agreed. That day, I went home with my heart sunk in my chest. I felt like a failure for needing this kind of help. I felt like a broken or incomplete person because I couldn't do it on my own.
And after months of their "help," working with a bunch of disability-based job agencies, the "help" of 20 plus other job placement agencies I had saught out, and filling out applications online myself, no matter what I tried, I couldn't get a job anywhere. I couldn't afford to eat, and I didn't want Dadaw to pay for me as she often couldn't afford much. A few people in my life suggested I get food stamps. Several people in my life told me I should apply food stamps. But the idea of that in itself was terrifying.
But after a while, between eating very little, my friends taking me out from time to time, and constant pestering from my family I felt I was left with no choice. I went to the food stamp office with my head down, the people around me had the same downtrodden demeanor. When they called me back, I felt a rush of emotions. Guilt, remorse, sorrow, anger that it came to this.
But most of all, I felt embarrassed. Growing up, food stamps had been used as an insult toward the people around me, I knew at one point my family had needed them and used them and I felt like as someone who had been constantly bullied growing up, I was opening myself up for more. I played through a million scenarios in my head as I walked back. Someone I know seeing me at the checkout counter, the cashier silently judging me, the people around me, me dropping the white card with the unmistakable logo in front of someone.
I snapped out of it and sat down in the interview room to answer questions to determine my eligibility. But it felt like a police interrogation to me. I felt like I was cheating the system. Like it wasn't for me, but someone else who deserved it. Someone else who needed it. I felt the eyes of the interviewer boring into me as if to say "why are you even here?" I spoke up about to break. "I...I don't even want to do this." Her face changed from accusatory and annoyed, to shock.
I let her know that I felt like I had no other choice, that I felt embarrassed. I explained my situation, and she looked at me almost begrudgingly endearing. "Son, if you need help, you need help." she said. "That's what it's here for." I felt somewhat relieved or at least a little better about not actually cheating the system. They accepted my application, and I was approved.
When I got the card, I was once again filled with dread. Replaying the simulations over and over in my head a million times. Finding a way to cheat the system in a way to avoid being bullied, I realized I could use the self-check-out. Then quickly realized if I get one of those "please remove items from cart" messages or something else regarding my card, someone would have to come up and help me anyway.
Still, I figured it was my best hope for avoiding confrontations, and I parked outside the grocery store. I checked my balance on the card and made sure everything was working, went in and got a basket, and started shopping while feeling like a spy. Like somehow I would get caught and it would be the end of the road for me. I'm honestly surprised nobody thought I was shoplifting as nervous as I was.
When I was done, I walked over to the self-check-out area doubling down on my earlier decision when a woman stopped me and said they were all closed for repairs. Panic set in. I didn't say anything. I just sort of smiled and walked away with my basket.
The 15 items or less line was almost empty but I had too many items. The next line had too many people. The next few lines had the same amount of people and items, and I started doing the math on which cashier was scanning and bagging faster vs how judgmental they look trying to get myself into the best possible situation.
Eventually, I found a line sandwiched between two closed lines with only one woman and her 2 kids in the basket with a few items. The cashier didn't seem to care much about anything and didn't seem like a gatekeeper or any other kind of threat. And the woman in front of me seemed sad and aloof as well so I felt like things were going to be ok. The woman smiled at me and apologized for having so many items. "It's not that much. It's fine." I responded with a smile.
But suddenly from behind me, I felt a high strung angry presence. Like a monster who's in a hurry and I'm in his path. As each item was scanned, he started saying "Oh God...." "Of course..." and "Just great..." in a demeaning and monstrous tone. The woman continued to hide her face with her back to him and sulked further into herself as he continued. "Cash or credit?" The cashier asked in a monotone voice. "I...uh...Here..." The woman said quietly and she tried to hand her..."A food stamp card..." I thought to myself.
I realized that I and the woman felt the same at that moment. In need of help, but afraid to seek it out, and even afraid to use it once that help had been provided. I started to piece the scene together realizing the kids had beat up shoes and clothes, and the woman did as well. They were clearly hungry and frightened by this angry rhino of a person and just wanted to get some food. I started to think of all the scenarios that could have put them in that situation. But then I realized it didn't matter.
Only a moment had passed while I thought through all of these things, the children were terrified of this man already and then he saw it..."OH GREAT! MY TAX DOLLARS AT WORK!" he screamed scaring the kids even more. He began to verbally narrate what he thought her situation was. accusing her of getting "knocked up" to "leech off the system." He said people like them were a "drain on the economy" all while using language inappropriate to use around her children.
At that moment after the initial shock wore off, I grasped my card in my pocket as anger built up inside of me. I knew what I was afraid of, I had built it up in my head, and this ignorant jerk was making it a reality for a down on their luck mom and her two scared children. I immediately pivoted. "What did you just say?" I told him with a face that said: "I dare you to repeat that." apparently too blustered to care, he said, "I SAID PEOPLE LIKE HER ARE A DRAIN ON THE ECONOMY!"
I whipped my card out and held it in-between two fingers right in his face. "And what about me?" I spoke out with an angry but in control tone. "I...Uh..." he said as it became clear to me, like most bullies, this one was only doing this because he thought his targets (this mom and her kids) would not be able to defend themselves. I yelled at him more, trying to control my voice so I didn't frighten the kids anymore "Well, you had all kinds of ignorant crap to say a minute ago!"
He snapped out of his shock bullies go into when someone stands up to them. "Wh...Why don't you mind your own business?! I WASN'T EVEN TALKING TO YOU! WHY DON'T YOU FIND ANOTHER LINE!" He started to build up steam again making the children huddle in the cart.
Having had enough of his nonsense I moved my card, leaned in with a scowl, got uncomfortably close to his face and angrily whispered: "Why don't YOU find another line before I find one for you..." a terrified look came across his face as he realized doubling down on his ignorance would not get the job done and after a pained audible gulp in the "big man's" throat he was frantically on his way spouting off "That's what I thought" and other face-saving phrases.
I timidly turned back to the family making sure I had dropped my "don't mess with me" persona (My Autistic folks know this one) so I didn't scare them. I asked them if they were ok. Her eyes were filled with tears, and so were the kids. She smiled at me and thanked me for stepping in. I told her kids that it was ok because he was gone now and offered to walk them to their car. She said she appreciated it but they would be fine.
The checkout woman handed her a receipt and obviously wanted to stay out of the situation. I saw the woman leave and she smiled at me on the way out. I had enough items that it took a good 5 minutes to check me out. I realized in that time I was no longer afraid of being seen with my card. Maybe it was the adrenaline of standing up to that bully, maybe it was outing myself to protect that family, after all, it would be silly to be afraid now that everyone had clearly seen it.
I paid, went outside, and on my windshield was a note on small lined paper that had been torn out of a planner of some sort that said: "You will be blessed all the days of your life." I don't know who left it, or if it was in response to what happened, or even how they found out which car was mine, but it was there.
The message here is two-fold. First, it is easy to get caught up in thinking you don't need help, or that even if you did it isn't for you. "It's for someone more deserving." sometimes it's just the fear of being bullied or ridiculed for accepting it. And because of this, a lot of people wait until they hit "the bottom" before they ever consider asking and even then they might not.
In a better world, we would destigmatize the need for help. Therapy, government assistance, shelters, these things are in place to help people, and if people need help, they should be able to get it without being berated to tears over it. The last thing someone who's questioning if they need help or not needs is some blowhard with their ignorant opinions of why they don't. Which brings me to the second message.
If you see something like this happening, and you have the power to step in whether you are personally affected or not, do it. This includes all forms of bullying. Bullies are cowards. They may double down, but once these types of people realize that we won't allow this anymore and there are actually people who will stand against them, they buckle under the pressure. If you see it, shut it down.
This has been another [Growing Up Aspie] Storytime. If you'd like to help me make more content more often, please consider supporting me at Paypal.me/growingupaspie or with a monthly pledge of $1 or more at patreon.com/irishwolfproductions. Thank you for your support.
