You know, whenever I do something in order to get something, I often forget to remember (if that makes any sense) an important fact that blindsides me, and I don't get it. And it's one of those things that is so obvious in retrospect; after I get through these exercises in humiliation, I think to myself, "Why in the hell didn't I think of that? And why in the hell did I even try?" (Corollary: I also forget about this when blogging about doing said something in order to get something. I want to stop doing that, so I can at least look back at my previous entries and feel good that I knew that I didn't know something that could screw me over.)
That's how I felt about my appeal for my health insurance yesterday afternoon. I knew that I only had one fact, that the projection of income the county gave me was inaccurate because it is based on work that is only seasonal, that could help me win my appeal. I also thought that I'd throw myself at the mercy of the judge conducting this appeal if I had nothing else.
Instead, I got a ride through the local government, in exchange for my name being on the government's radar permanently, and then I got dumped out of that ride worse for the wear. Even though this was conducted over the phone (I was at the parking lot of the gym, anticipating that I would need to exercise to get the stress out), it felt like like an arbitration hearing being held at a judge's office, possibly even a trial held in court. She recorded the whole thing, laid out the ground rules to both the appellant (me) and the respondent (a rep for the county), noted the files all three of us got and entered them into the appeal as Exhibit 1 and 2 (whoa, memories of L.A. Law and Law & Order went up my spine when she said that), and then we began.
What I thought would happen -- well, what I was only prepared for -- was for me to state why I appealed, which was, at its most rudimentary, a clarification as to why I they projected earnings for a seasonal job over the course of the whole year. If either the county or the judge said something to the effect of, "Sorry, I know it's seasonal, but that's the law," well, I might as well have hung up.
However, it was a bit more formal than that. The judge actually conducted the proceedings. Guess it makes sense since she's the one who will make the decision. She asked the county representative questions about my case and she responded. Then she got to me, and just to make sure I got to make the points I wanted to make, I expanded on her question to clarify the job at the U. She then retorted that my other job, the test scoring job, paid a lot more. And then the appeal went downhill rapidly, like off a cliff.
"I don't know if you are familiar with test scoring positions," I said, and possibly in response to me talking on and on, she came back quickly with, "Yes, I am very familiar with what that company." I told her that even though the Verification Form said the position was project-based, there is a season, to which she replied that there are jobs that are full-time with that company. I don't know how familiar she is with this company after all, because most of the people there work as graders only for the spring and summer. I reminded her of that.
Before I could polish off my fingers on the front of my shirt, however, she kind of played her trump card: Unemployment. "Are you on it?" she asked, and ... yeah, I guess that changes things, doesn't it? I couldn't lie to the judge, and I really had no way I could massage the fact that I'm on the dole. Guess this is where I would throw myself at her mercy, but I wasn't feeling any sympathetic vibe from her. It was a lot different from the judge who granted me my continuance and was courteous when I called in five minutes after the appointed time of my appeal. Anyway, she flustered me over when exactly I applied for the u-word -- like it mattered, I was fucked -- but pretty soon she moved because she also knew that was immaterial. According to the law (well, I'm guessing here but it seems apparent) I have income, enough to exceed the income limits to receive health insurance from the state.
All I could do at this point is agree with the line of questioning from the judge, which obviously led to a finding that my appeal was not only denied, but bullshit. I tried to stay civil, all the way to saying "Your Honor" and "yes, ma'am" by the time we hung up. But I could tell the contempt coming from both the county rep and the judge. The county rep probably had a smirk on her face while I was squirming, then probably told her co-worker after the call, "Well that was a waste of my fucking time." Meanwhile the judge probably sent out notice of denial of my appeal as soon as she hung up the phone. I'll probably get the letter when I check the mail this afternoon.
I should have seen this coming. But I had to do something, because now I have no health insurance. And, because I rolled the dice and got the pimple on my ass checked out while appealing, I have a huge fucking bill, $444, I have to take care of. I don't know how. There are other avenues I have to go down, but the bottom line is the county won't help me with my insurance.
I should have not gone through that fucking appeal. Shouldn't have gotten my ass pimple checked either.
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