Da-Welfare

Today my plan was to enter the world of welfare. I asked Trish last night if I should shower before going and here was her response:

I vote no shower, and your worst "going to wal-mart" outfit with sneakers, of course. If you could bring the boy or perhaps borrow a younger, very whiny child from someone else that would complete the look we want to convey.

I set my alarm for 10 (I felt I deserved to get some sleep) I would shower but just throw my hair up since I will need to reshower & pretty up for tonight. I woke up on my own and I'm thinking WTF, well the power was out and it was 10:30 so that took care of the shower issue. I threw my greasy hair up and off I went to the welfare office which by the way has NO parking. Apparently the dirt poor do not have vehicles. The office is filled with filthy people who look dirtier than me. Most were non-english speaking except for a few white trash women, who of course were pregnant. Who actually has sex with these women? I need to get laid but NOT get pregnant. I fill out my foolish form and wait with the germy, grimey masses for my turn. A really young girl comes in with 2 rug rats around ages 1 & 3. The 3 yr. old is wearing a ton of jewelry that appears to be real. WTF...why do small children need jewels? The woman takes her place in line while her children run amuck. The youngest one takes all the literature and throws it on the floor not a word from Mom. The older child spies an ice coffee sitting in a window sill and drinks it. Ewwww....who does that belong to and how long has it been there? Not to mention these filthy masses of people are all coughing. I was surprised not see any fly babies nearby. I'm told by da welfare women (who is safely behind a glass wall to protect her from the germs) that I need to go to the phone bank on the wall and call Ramona at ext. 419. (I immediately think of Ramona the pest & smile). I don't want to touch these filthy phones but I do and call the extension it goes right to voicemail. Muthafucker! I inquire at the desk...should I wait for a return call or just sit tight? She tells me to keep calling, no luck. Finally glass caged woman feels bad and dials Ramona the pest herself. Ramona answers her (must have caller ID) so she passes her phone through her talking hole. Ramona tells me I am not eligible until I receive my last check. Then I can call for an appointment. Once in the safety of my own car I Purelled my hands and face that touched the phone.

On the bright side....I have 2 interviews and hopefully won't have to deal with this shit.