A welfare client is supposed to cheat. Everybody expects it.
They tell the government that they are getting two hundred dollars less than their real <3>pension3> so they can get a little extra welfare money.
Or, they tell the <4>caseworker4> that the landlord raised the <5>rent5> by a hundred dollars.
So instead, I go out and <7>drum7> up some business and draw cartoons.
I even tell welfare how much I make!
They keep my records, and that information goes right into the government's computer.
Very <10>high-profile10>.
As a welfare client I'm expected to <11>bow11> before the caseworker.
Most caseworkers begin as college-educated <13>liberals13> with high ideals.
But after a few years in a system that practically requires people to lie, they become like the one I shall call "Suzanne", a <14>detective14> in <15>shorts15>.
Not long after Christmas last year, Suzanne came to inspect my apartment and saw some new posters <16>pasted16> on the wall.
"Where'd you get the money for those? " she wanted to know.
"Friends and family."
"Well, you'd better have a <17>receipt17> for it, by God. You have to report any <18>donations18> or gifts."
Instead, I talked back.
"I got a cigarette from somebody on the street the other day. Do I have to report that? "
"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules, Mr. Callahan."
"You know, Mr. Callahan, I've heard that you put a lot more miles on that wheelchair than average."
Of course I do.
I'm an active worker, not a vegetable.
I live near downtown, so I can get around in a wheelchair.
I wonder what she'd think if she suddenly broke her <19>hip19> and had to <20>crawl20> to work.
Government cuts in welfare have resulted in hunger and suffering for a lot of people, not just me.
But people with <22>spinal22> <23>cord23> injuries felt the cuts in a unique way: The government stopped taking care of our chairs.
Each time mine broke down, lost a <24>screw24>, needed a new <25>roller25> <26>bearing26>, the <27>brake27> wouldn't work, etc., and I called Suzanne, I had to endure a little lecture.
Finally, she'd say, "Well, if I can find time today, I'll call the medical worker."
notify28> the medical worker, who would <29>certify29> that there was a problem.
Then the medical worker called the wheelchair repair companies to get the cheapest <30>bid30>.
Then the medical worker <31>alerted31> the main welfare office at the state capital.
They considered the matter for days while I lay in bed, unable to move.
Finally, if I was lucky, they called back and approved the repair.
When welfare learned I was making money on my cartoons, Suzanne started "visiting" every fortnight instead of every two months.
She looked into every corner in search of unreported <32>appliances32>, or <33>maids33>, or a <34>roast34> pig in the <35>oven35>, or a new <36>helicopter36> parked out back.
There is no <37>provision37> in the law for a gradual shift away from welfare.
I am an independent businessman, slowly building up my market.
It's impossible to jump off welfare and suddenly be making two thousand dollars a month. But I would love to be able to pay for some of my living and not have to go through an embarrassing situation every time I need a spare part for my wheelchair.
Welfare sent Suzanne to look around in my apartment the other day because the <39>chemist39> said I was using a larger than usual amount of medical supplies.
I was, indeed: The hole that has been surgically cut to drain urine had changed size and the connection to my <40>urine40> bag was leaking.
While she was taking notes, my phone rang and Suzanne answered it.
The caller was a state <41>senator41>, which scared Suzanne a little.
Would I sit on the <42>governor42>'s committee and try to do something about the thousands of welfare clients who, like me, could earn part or all of their own livings if they were allowed to do so, one step at a time?
Hell, yes, I would!
They will be free to develop their talents without guilt or fear—or just hold a good, steady job.