Claim Number Ac23911

Claim Number AC23911 Date of Injury 03/01/2006 Claimant Morgin L Carpenter

This is how the Department of Labor And Industries identifies me, and similarly others attempting to navigate the treacherous current of its seemingly inhuman bureaucracy. This is the order of identification seen on every letter head I have ever received from them. First my claim number; then the date the injury took place; and then “oh yeah, you have a name”. AC23911- a designation given in the aftermath of an injury that, although I was unaware of at the time, would significantly alter my existence forever.

It was an ordinary day on the shit job that I had managed to endure for nearly two years. I don’t know exactly why I stayed. I had only ever had one other “real” job prior to my position as the Gourmet Department Head at Cost Plus World Market and that one had been even worse. I suppose my main fear was in trading one shit job for another. I was painfully aware that there were worse jobs out there and my confidence in obtaining even one of those to sustain my meager existence was shaky at best. The balding troll who had taken over store 72 of that corporate monstrosity had been passive aggressively attempting to alleviate anyone who did not stick their noses where she saw fit of their jobs for nearly six months. A typical self important retail manager, the “Bald Little Troll” (we often referred to her as that due her unfortunately thinning hair and short stature) was enthralled by the idea of her own power. Everything was about how she could help the company which she was only too happy to use to legitimize her slashing of the hours that represented my ability to, not only do my job, but to pay my rent. I instinctively knew that she was the enemy and had been actively exploring other employment opportunities.

It was in one of my forced labor camp like whirlwinds of attempting to beat the clock (she had begun writing up anyone who went over their allotted hours) that led to my carelessness while trying to get the last tier of one particularly large pallet of beverages onto a cart and off the floor. It was there standing on that pallet, holding a case of San Pellegrino that I inadvertently twisted and felt my foot fall through the unstable wood. At first I didn’t take much notice. I knew I had probably pulled something but I was so intent on getting the job done that I just kept on loading the 25lbs plus cases onto the cart. It was only after getting the cart into the elevator and clocking out that I became aware of how wrong my body felt. I mentioned it to the assistant manager who, not wanting to anger the Troll with an accident report, made no attempt at documentation of the injury. I assured her that I would be fine and headed home to ice the pain. It only took a few steps to realize that I was far from fine.

November 2007 had been a particularly difficult month. The pain that had become my constant companion was definitely taking its toll. It seemed to take on a personality all its own, horrible and relentless. It had flared here and there over the year and a half since the initial injury. A few bouts were a bit excruciating to say the least, but I had always managed to work through them and eventually attain some measure of relief. The L&I hacks I was initially sent to told me that I had suffered a strained lumbar. Six weeks of physical therapy and some muscle relaxers had been the prescribed treatment. There had been no X-rays, scans or monetary compensation for the near month of work missed. L&I wanted to be done with me and I wanted to be done with them. So when they informed me that my claim was closing in May of ‘06, I had no objection.

After quitting in frustration days after the pallet incident, I had been given a new job by a small mom and pop grocery store just down the street from Cost Plus in Pike Place Market. Although the work proved to be very much the same and just as strenuous as the job I had just vacated, I found that I actually liked working there. The Troll steered clear of me and the Deli for good reason. I didn’t take too kindly to her attempts to get my L&I claim denied. She tried to convince them that I had a previous injury and thus Cost Plus was not responsible for my medical bills. The previous injury she was alluding to had occurred only a few months prior to the filing of the claim at Cost Plus. It was not reported because I was only sore for a few days and she didn’t want to bring her safety numbers down and loose a free pizza party. Thankfully this worked in my favor as I had no prior medical documentation of any back related condition and L&I made them pay up.

The pain had finally become completely unbearable in August of ’07 and it was that November that my boss turned to me and said that I simply could not go on like this. It was with a heavy, unsure heart that I consented to being laid off from my job at Pike Place Grocery and Deli. I really didn’t want Lisa to get into any kind of trouble. She had been good to me and had not complained and supported me when I could no longer perform my duties. I had resisted the reopening of my claim for months. Initially hoping that with light duty and more physical therapy my symptoms would subside and I could go on as usual with only slight to moderate discomfort. But my body had reached its tether. With the onset of the more excruciating sensations radiating throughout my lower half, my doctor had finally ordered an MRI. The results were far from encouraging. It showed three large disc protrusions in the lower spine. One was so large that it shocked the doctor who immediately sent me to see an orthopedic surgeon. It was little wonder that I felt as if someone had been hitting me in the leg

with a machete for those last few months. The nerve compression was so severe, the surgeon told me, that if I wished they would go in and cut it out right then and there. I certainly was not savoring that particular scenario.

Not that I could have even afforded it if I did decide on surgery. Even with the Starbuckian medical insurance I had obtained by shacking up with my boyfriend that year, I couldn’t afford to go to the prescribed physical therapist. Aetna considered her to be a “specialist” and it cost $30 each time I went. And they wanted me there three times a week! So I left the Deli and filed for Unemployment. I also petitioned to have my claim with L&I reopened, it was denied. They both were actually. Employment Security said that I was not fit to work full time and L&I said that the MRI showed a condition that I had not been diagnosed with in my previous exams. Big goddamn surprise, they hadn’t done an MRI! The conditions had obviously worsened considerably, but try telling them that. They didn’t want to admit that it was their problem.

I was given sixty days to appeal or the decision of denial became final. With some rather inventive manipulation of words from my doctor, Employment Security had acceded to the fact that I was no longer capable of performing the functions of my former occupation and had finally begun sending me some much needed funds. Despite the searing agony constantly racking my body, I simply could not allow myself the time to really recoup. Feeling an incredible sense of uselessness, I immediately enrolled in a worker retraining program and begun the painful attendance to North Seattle Community College.

I managed quite well considering and more than, if painfully, passed my classes. But it became clear within two quarters that I was not at all cut out for the occupation I had chosen to be retrained in. My body was not recovering as quickly as I would have liked either. Finally deciding that I would in fact appeal L&I’s ludicrous decision, I entrusted the claim to the orthopedic specialist I had been sent to see five months prior. He basically sent them a letter stating that they were so obviously full of shit that they didn’t hesitate reopening it, thus granting me some much needed treatment.

I had been collecting unemployment for three or four months when they sent me a letter stating that they were investigating me for fraud! Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to collect the money that I had rightfully accrued as insurance by working while attempting to get L&I to admit that they were responsible for my inability to continue in my former occupation. This certainly didn’t help with my anxiety which had been growing steadily since the onset of the symptoms. I felt like I should just be able to get over it and move on. I was never looking for a hand out and now I had to convince some faceless bureaucracy that I was entitled to aid when deep down, I couldn’t quite convince myself. Due to the disparity between what I had earned at the Deli and what I had earned at Cost Plus, the compensation retroactively paid to me by L&I was far less than what I had received from Unemployment.

Having kindly decided that I had not intended to defraud their system, Employment Security had let me off with the stipulation that I pay back every penny. I was furious that that had been the best case scenario. The representatives I had spoken with had indicated that I was lucky to have not been charged criminally. Not having the money to pay them, I was left

with little recourse but to set up a payment plan that, if I don’t receive some sort of settlement with L&I, will be honoring each month for at least the next three years.

Dealing with L&I continues to be extremely problematic for me. The small amount I am allotted each month is not sufficient to even pay for a place to live, let alone bills and all of the other things that we are forced to delve out cash for. Once financially independent from my own hard work and ingenuity, I have been forced to become reliant on my live in boyfriend and a meager government check for $299.88 ever two weeks. I can’t get ahead. Stagnantly mobile, I call it. It is not at all a good feeling and has put considerable strain on my relationship. Not because he resents me or anything, but because I resent myself and the circumstances that have caused this sense of entrapment. My legitimacy is constantly being challenged by L&I who does not consider that AC23911 represents an actual person. As overworked and institutionalized people themselves, they are simply fallowing the policies handed down by a higher bureaucratic power. No doubt in hopes that I will become so frustrated and demoralized that I’ll simply give up. However, I don’t intend to make so easy for them.