Finding Momentum

“Drew, they denied me Social Secu­rity for the sec­ond time,” Mike told me the last time I saw him over finals week at the Asian Ghetto. He’s hold­ing a new card­board sign with a hand-scrawled “GOOD LUCK ON FINALS” in Sharpie. “But that’s okay, me and my lawyer, we’ll appeal. That third time, that’s when they’ll let me in.”

Mike’s been apply­ing for Social Secu­rity dis­abil­ity pay­ments, but he keeps get­ting rejected because, accord­ing to the rejec­tion let­ters, he’s still in signs of good health. Mike would dis­agree. “My heart, Drew, my heart keep giv­ing me pains.”

True, he does look pretty able-bodied still, actively mov­ing about the side­walks and keep­ing in good spir­its. “Why don’t you get a job, Mike?”

A group of stu­dents walk out of the Ghetto; one peels away and fum­bles with his wal­let, finally drop­ping a dol­lar bill into Mike’s cup. “Thank you, and good luck on finals,” Mike calls out after him. The stu­dent smiles.

Mike turns back. “I try,” he tells me, “but I can’t do no heavy lift­ing. My last job with my brother-in-law, I had to lift and I keep get­ting chest pains. So I gotta apply for Social Security.”

“Why don’t you try to apply for a cler­i­cal posi­tion? Or some sort of easy job as a sales clerk or some­thing?” I sug­gest. I don’t know why, but it seems like a dumb question.

He just shrugs. “They don’t hire me.” And I know why; it’s because he’s had a his­tory of heart prob­lems. Nobody wants an employee with med­ical liabilities.

But his shrug­ging frus­trates me. Is that it? Should you just give up, Mike? Why don’t you keep trying?

A man tosses change into the cup while briskly walk­ing by. “Good luck on finals,” Mike calls out after him with­out really look­ing. The man turns around, and Mike does a double-take–it’s a friend of his (obvi­ously in mid­dle age). “You don’t have finals,” Mike tells him, and they laugh it up a little.

Mike comes out to the Ghetto and makes con­sis­tent money shak­ing the cup. It’s eas­ier than search­ing for a job and get­ting rejected. I won­der if apply­ing for Social Secu­rity dis­abil­ity is his way of avoid­ing the job search. Some­thing about that doesn’t sit right with me.

“But they’ll give me Social Secu­rity dis­abil­ity the third time around,” Mike turns and looks at me with a hope­ful grin. “My lawyer tells me that’s how it works.”

I decide to let this drop for now. We clasp hands and say a prayer. Then I have to go study and we say goodbye.