If I Were An Ex-Offender, Then... Tuesday, May 5, 2009

... I would have the world at my fingertips. Or at least more local resources at my disposal.

Going all the way back to the middle of last year, it's been both slim pickings and a rough time to be a freelance writer. I'll bet you can't guess how I attempt to make my living. Freelance writer, you say? Wrong! I'm a porn star... but until that takes off, I've been freelance writing (ok, I'm not really an aspiring porn star). With the need for local writers being virtually null, I've been finding ways of tightening my belt by cutting down on expenses (I'm almost a non-smoker these days). One of the expenses I was almost certain I could find help with was my transportation; because CTA has been digging into my pockets for quite some time. So me being a bit naive, I figured I could hit up some of the 'community employment assistance' (in hindsight, this is a misnomer) programs to a slide a brother some free bus passes as I attempt to be the 'black Carrie Bradshaw' of this mofo (not that I would ever admit to watching that show).

They asked me two questions which I ultimately had the wrong answer to. A. Are you an ex-offender? B. Are you receiving any welfare benefits? The answer to both of these are no (though if a couple of these publishers that owe me money don't soon fork it over, I may become a future ex-offender). Then, without a smile on her face (she may have been smiling; after all, it was a phone conversation), this chick proceeds to tell me that there's nothing she could do for me.

But I'm college educated, worked with various local non-profits, and my resume is pretty impressive... there's nothing you can do for me? She then enlightened me to the fact that because I was so educated, it was actually a liability to receiving assistance. In my warped (and sometimes fragile) little mind, I almost got the feeling that with a nod and wink, she was implying that the best course of action would be for me to go out and immediately do some dirt, and then flag down a swine flu carrier cop to confess my crimes. Then they would help me?!

Even she admitted that it was a bit odd (hesitantly so, and only a bit odd) that they weren't able to do a thing for me. The lessons I learned? School is for dummies, and I need to get the hook-up on a package.