So we live in low-income housing. It's not government housing. It's a private company that builds these complexes all over and they get a tax write off. So it benefits us and them. The apartments are brand new--we are the first people to live in ours--and I just got back from our yearly recertification interview. I handed over the necessary documents and she filled out forms. It was fine until Rachel started having a breakdown. Screaming and crying at the top of her lungs! She did not want to sit in my lap. But if I put her down she went straight for the outlet socket or some other thing that she wasn't allowed near. So me and this lady are talking about my stuff while Rachel is screaming and trying to get out of my arms. I get up to go and the lady says "Before you go can you please look at your bank statements and tell me where anything over $150 came from?" Sure. There is one for about $200 that shows that it's a transfer from our savings into our checking. So I tell her that.
"Well where did it come from?"
"UH, my savings account."
"Well where did it originally come from?"
I look at her.
"What? You really think I know where some random $200 came from that's been sitting in my savings accout for years?????"
She is clearly NOT very bright! So we go back and forth, me telling her it just came from my savings and her saying it had to be payroll or a gift or something--all the while Rachel is screaming bloody murder and I'm turning her in circles trying to giver her a different perspective. Finally the lady got it and said I just had to write it was a transfer from my savings (Uh, that's what I said in the first place!!!!). I left with Rachel upside down and me holding her by her legs as we pass a nice older couple waiting in line. I probably looked like quite the responsible mother! Oh I was soooo mad!!!!
I left on the verge of MAD tears and ready to scream myself! As soon as we got in the house Rachel was so happy again, like nothing ever happened. Lovely...And to make things worse I have to go back to the office and give that lady a couple more papers again. I think I'll just put them in the drop box.
To top it all off, Spencer now makes less money (working part-time so he can actually finish his college degree) but because the amount of money he now makes doesn't fit into their little formula we are stuck paying a higher rent than we should. Anyone know where I can get a job?