A NYC Welfare Office

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Of what I’ve seen over these years, among the most striking was a NYC welfare office. A friend was eligible for welfare so we registered him for financial assistance and food stamps. The office was in a chic neighborhood in Manhattan (Chelsea) within walking distance of my West Village apartment. The office was packed with clients. As this was Chelsea in Manhattan, the crowd was not quite as dregs-of-the-earth as those found in less affluent neighborhoods. That said, it was pretty much what you’d expect to see in a NYC welfare office – nearly all Black and Spanish, a few derelict-looking men and women, a certain resignation to waiting and being treated as cattle, accompanied by sadness and desperation. Sitting pompously behind a ramshackle desk was the bureaucrat in charge of assisting the masses as they arrived and waited. There was violent fire in this woman’s eyes as she barked demeaning orders and answers to those approaching her fiefdom. Never in my life have I seen anyone in any position routinely treat people as she did. The middle aged woman took out a lifetime of anger on every welfare client in that office. Her behavior stays with me to this day. Hers was the most sadistic violation of personal dignity I have ever witnessed. Even sadder is that clients just took the abuse, having grown accustomed to such treatment.

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