$125 Worth of Dignity
Or: Apparently, Getting Groceries Requires a Government Clearance Operation
There is something profoundly ridiculous about having to fight this hard for something so basic.
I'm not asking for a fortune.
I'm not asking for a mansion, a luxury vehicle, or a lifetime supply of somebody else's money.
I'm asking for a little grocery assistance. Something in the neighborhood of $125 would make a meaningful difference.
One hundred and twenty-five dollars.
That's a few modest Walmart orders. A little breathing room. Enough assistance to help put groceries in the refrigerator while I continue trying to get my feet underneath me.
And somehow, that has turned into an administrative obstacle course.
The Millionaire Who Just Wants Groceries
Recently, I've written quite a bit about financial independence, modest living, and the difference between having money and looking like you have money.
In The Millionaire Who Lives Like the Corner Store Guy, I explored the idea that wealth doesn't have to come with an extravagant lifestyle.
In The Art of Being Wealthy Without Looking Like You Have Two Nickels to Rub Together, I expanded on the idea of financial privacy: not advertising what you have, not explaining yourself to everyone, and not confusing appearances with actual security.
And in Book of Boris XVII: The Millionaire in the Goodwill Shirt, I put some of those ideas into the Book of Boris.
The common thread?
I've never chased riches.
I've chased comfort.
The ability to pay the bills. Buy groceries. Have a peaceful home. Close the door and enjoy my own company.
But writing about financial independence doesn't mean I'm suddenly financially invulnerable.
Sometimes employment doesn't work out. Sometimes an unemployment determination takes weeks. Sometimes an old debt absorbs money you were counting on. Sometimes you find yourself working part-time and still needing a little help getting through the month.
And sometimes that help is approximately $125.
There's no contradiction here.
Wanting financial independence doesn't mean pretending you never need assistance.
Peachy Keen Doesn't Mean Everything Is Peachy
I've also written about personal boundaries.
In The Art of Being Peachy Keen While Telling Everyone to Mind Their Own Damn Business, I discussed the value of being friendly without feeling obligated to disclose every detail of your personal life.
There's a difference between being polite and making your private circumstances public property.
I still believe that.
But there's another side to that philosophy.
Sometimes you have to disclose personal information because a system requires it. Sometimes you have to explain your circumstances, document your income, provide verification, and answer questions simply to access assistance you're applying for.
I understand that eligibility has to be established.
I understand that documentation matters.
What I don't understand is why the process has to become so difficult to navigate after you've done what was requested.
Peachy keen doesn't mean everything is peachy.
And being willing to cooperate doesn't mean you should have to chase your own paperwork around a government website.
I Did My Part. Where's the Problem?
Let's go through the paperwork.
I submitted the requested verification documents for my Texas SNAP application.
Employer verification from Haus Morgenrot. Supporting payroll records. VA benefits verification.
On November 9, I called HHSC and eventually spoke with a representative named Kevin, Agent ID 342700.
He confirmed that my documents were visible in the system, although they had not yet been fully reviewed.
He also escalated my application for review because it had passed a processing point without a decision or an explanation.
Good.
At least someone had looked at the situation.
Then November 10 arrived.
I received an email from Your Texas Benefits informing me that a new letter or form had been posted to my account.
Wonderful!
A letter!
Except there was one small problem.
It wasn't there.
The View Messages section showed the notification under my correct case number. But when I went to Letters and Forms, the document wasn't available.
The notification itself wasn't clickable.
The portal kept directing me back to the same areas.
I checked the application history. I checked the message center. I checked the letters section.
Nothing.
Apparently, HHSC had successfully informed me that I had correspondence that I couldn't actually retrieve.
I wasn't looking for buried treasure.
I was looking for a letter.
The Saturday Disconnect
Naturally, I tried calling.
It was Saturday.
The automated system informed me that business hours were Monday through Friday and promptly disconnected the call.
FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!
Now, I understand that offices have operating hours. Employees deserve weekends. I'm not arguing that government workers should spend every waking moment answering telephones.
But my unresolved application doesn't magically stop being unresolved because it's Saturday.
When the website doesn't provide the information, the phone system doesn't offer an alternative, and the notification leads nowhere, what exactly is a person supposed to do?
Keep clicking?
Keep calling?
Keep waiting?
At some point, the process itself becomes another source of hardship.
Winning the Battle and Losing the Money
There's another reason this situation has been particularly frustrating.
I recently fought through an employment dispute with my former employer, Haus Morgenrot.
I eventually won that battle.
But I still had an outstanding unemployment overpayment debt from 2020, approximately $3,000.
I was told that any benefits approved on my newer unemployment claim would be applied toward that outstanding debt.
I had spent weeks fighting to get the employment situation resolved, only to find myself without the money I expected to receive.
Could I have handled money better when I was younger?
Absolutely.
I've made mistakes. I can acknowledge that without pretending otherwise.
But there's a difference between accepting responsibility for past decisions and believing that a person should have to endure every possible consequence indefinitely.
I'm working.
I have part-time employment with the Galactic Spin Cycle & Sock Rehabilitation Authority.
I'm trying to move forward.
I'm not asking anyone to erase my past or pretend I've never made a bad decision.
I'm asking for a little help getting through the present.
Five Pages of Accountability
By November 14, I had reached the point where I wasn't interested in clicking through that website anymore.
I wanted answers.
So I prepared a formal complaint for the Texas Health and Human Services Commission.
I documented the November 9 conversation with Kevin.
I explained the missing November 10 correspondence.
I requested an investigation, a copy of the missing letter, confirmation of any outstanding verification, and a clear explanation of the application's status.
I submitted it.
And I received a tracking number:
A11142026.0130005
Now there is a documented complaint.
The Department of Petty Affairs has entered the building.
And yes, I kept copies of the paperwork. Because when you're dealing with a system that can't reliably display its own correspondence, keeping your own records seems like a rather sensible idea.
$125 Is Not a Fortune
Let's put this into perspective.
One hundred and twenty-five dollars.
In the grand scheme of government spending, institutional budgets, administrative overhead, and the money society routinely spends on things that could probably be reconsidered, $125 is not some extraordinary financial burden.
But to someone who is struggling, it can mean groceries.
It can mean a few modest Walmart orders.
It can mean not having to calculate every dollar before putting food in the cart.
And providing someone with a little assistance for a month isn't going to destroy society.
That's what assistance programs are supposed to do: help people through periods when they cannot adequately support themselves.
Sometimes that help is temporary.
Sometimes it's modest.
Sometimes it's exactly enough to keep someone from falling further behind.
Why should accessing that assistance require so much time, documentation, persistence, and patience?
I'm not asking for special treatment.
I'm asking for the process to work.
If you need documents, tell me what documents you need.
If something is missing, identify it.
If a decision has been made, make the correspondence accessible.
If the application is still being reviewed, explain where it stands.
These aren't unreasonable expectations.
Financial Independence Doesn't Mean Financial Invulnerability
This is something I want to make clear.
I've written about wanting to become financially secure enough that I don't have to worry about money constantly.
I've written about living modestly, keeping my financial affairs private, and not confusing wealth with appearances.
I still believe all of that.
But financial independence isn't a magical shield against every hardship.
You can work and still struggle.
You can make responsible decisions today while dealing with the consequences of decisions made years ago.
You can want to stand on your own two feet and still need someone to give you a hand occasionally.
Those things aren't mutually exclusive.
Needing $125 in food assistance doesn't invalidate the goal of becoming financially independent.
It doesn't make someone lazy.
It doesn't make someone irresponsible.
And it certainly doesn't mean they should be treated as though they're asking for the moon.
Final Thoughts: I Don't Need to Look Rich. I Need to Eat.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
I don't need to look wealthy.
I need to be financially secure.
I don't need a mansion.
I need a comfortable place to live.
I don't need a luxury vehicle.
I need reliable transportation.
I don't need to flaunt money.
I need enough of it to buy groceries without worrying about whether I'll make it through the month.
And right now, I'm asking for $125 worth of breathing room.
Not forever.
Not a lifetime commitment.
Just a little assistance while I continue working toward something better.
I don't think that's an unreasonable expectation.
I don't think helping someone through a difficult month is going to bring society to its knees.
And I don't think a person should have to become an amateur bureaucrat just to find out why a letter announced by the government isn't actually available on the government's own website.
So here I am.
Working. Documenting. Following up. Keeping receipts.
And waiting for an answer.
Audit the bureaucracy. Spare the human.
Because behind every case number is an actual person.
And that person is trying to eat.
Some people dream of becoming millionaires.
I dream of having enough money to buy groceries, pay the bills, live peacefully, and never have to explain why I need $125 worth of help.
I still want financial independence.
But until I get there, a little assistance shouldn't require a formal complaint and a tracking number.
Signed,
Boris
The Lawfully Neutral Paladin
With editorial assistance from Jerry "The Ankle-Biter" Silverhand
Acting Director, Department of Petty Affairs
Chief Auditor, Bureaucratic Nonsense Division
P.S. Grandma's apple pie is ready. The milk is cold. The paperwork is filed. Now somebody please tell HHSC where the hell they put the letter. 🦝