Out in the OVR Cold

One day last week, I heard the phone ring downstairs, but was in the middle of fighting a fever so I didn't get up to answer it. I forgot about it until two days later, when I was finally well enough to go downstairs. There was a cryptic message from the OVR counselor, about needing to speak with me about my application.

Anticipating that CL had news regarding the vocational evaluation tests she said would be scheduled for me, I called her back. I had difficulty speaking above a whisper, and was exhausted trying to talk. Pneumonia takes a lot out of you, I've discovered.

She called to tell me, she said, that there was nothing she could do for me. She might be able to help me find a full-time job, but there would be no vocational evaluations nor any training or any other services provided.

Why? This isn't what she had said just a few days ago, so what happened, I asked.

Well, you have a job, she said. If you were unemployed, or homeless, or on welfare or certified disabled by Social Security or something like that, we could help you.

That isn't what it says on the OVR web site, which is why I applied to them in the first place. I certainly wouldn't have wasted my time with them if I didn't believe I was eligible for their help.

Besides, dammit, she herself had told me I was eligible at the conclusion of our meeting.

Now, one of the things she had me do at that initial meeting began to make sense. I thought it odd at the time that she would have me sign a paper stating I had been informed about how to sue the OVR, before she would tell me how she could help me.

Turns out that might be the best thing she could have done for me. I have no desire to sue them, but I am going to lodge a complaint and ask for a hearing. Something isn't right here, and I intend to find out what happened.

Grump! What a bummer, man.