WIC is not a delightful experience. Because the government subsidizes WIC, the food is very specific, down to the ounces of how much you can get of one thing. WIC allows only generic brands, nothing quality, just the basics. This specificity leads to many mistakes. In the beginning I would screw up all the time. A 16oz loaf of bread can be hard to find. There is no handy swipe card, in Oklahoma you get big checks with the items written out on them. In the 2 years that we have been on WIC since moving here I have had a total of one pleasant, pain free interaction when using WIC. As I am writing this I can't believe it either. Really, just one in two years!
I have come to call WIC the checks of shame. “Time to go do my checks of shame shopping!” I shout as I leave the house on Monday with a sarcastic grin across my face.
There I am, scanning the aisles trying to find the shortest line with the most competent looking cashier. I have tried to strategize when I go WIC shopping to avoid a long impatient line behind me. In the middle line, is a free space, I wedge my cart in. Time to put on my sing, song, happy go lucky voice as I hand over my checks. “I am doing WIC first. “ I say calmly. The cashier is an older woman who already looks terrified. I remember to put my cloth shopping bags in front and let the bagger know to fill them all the way up. I often end up with 4 plastic bags at the end, even when I bring my own bags. Oklahoma still has not figured out yet that I bring bags because I don’t want plastic.
I cheerily put forward my WIC items, cleanly separated out, meticulously scrutinized for the proper ounces and brands. I think maybe this time it will go smoothly. I give her the first check, the easy one. All there is on this check is milk, eggs, bread and PB. She spends a lot of time clicking buttons before she has to call her supervisor over to remind her how to do WIC. I wait patiently. I try to coach her on what to push, since I have watched every mistake ever done by a cashier. I point at another cashier I recognize in the line over and say, “she can help, she has helped me before. “ No dice, guess I should have noticed her line before this one. The supervisor comes, does a quick tutorial and we are back in business. First check down, I am in good spirits, than I go in for the kill. $12 of fruits and vegetables. According to my mini WIC encyclopedia I get to have fresh produce, it can be organic vegetables, pre-washed greens, all $12 worth for a month! Maybe for some $12 of produce is significant but for our family it barely buys 2 meals. Still free food, is free food, so I put down the check and wait. A calm before the storm.
The cashier starts up her process then after the first vegetable she rings up, it says, this is not a WIC item. She tells me flatly “This is not a WIC item.” Like every other week I get out my mini encyclopedia and explain to her that yes, any and all vegetable and fruit are game for my $12. She calls the supervisor over again. This time I am getting hot around the face. I now have 2 other folks behind me, “this will be awhile” I tell the women behind me. She does not budge. Then I realize I recognize the other women behind her. It’s a friend. This friend is probably one of the best people to run into in this scenario. She and her family are chill and sweet people who are thoughtful in trying situations. I am trying to play it cool as we wait. We start chatting about the church we both go to. Its pleasant but I am also distracted by how long this is taking. I am really heating up by the time the supervisor arrives and saves the day with his “special card.” She can now finish ringing up my $12 of produce.
One more complication arises. I got too many vegetables. In this case often the cashier will just add my extra veggies to my non-WIC items. Only this cashier really did not know what she was doing. She wanted cash. I reach into my wallet and hand over $5. That was supposed to go to something else. It sucks that money is so tight $5 feels like too much to give.
I say thank you, say goodbye to my friend, and wheel out into the spring air. It is when I get to my car I realize the bagger switched halfway though that transaction and gave me 3 plastic bags. I get in my car and cry.
At least once a month I come home crying after a WIC trip. The mark of being low-income stings. It’s so confusing and hard I often wish we did not qualify for it at all.
But we do, and until we do not qualify I cannot see any way of not taking the free food.
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| From Hyperbole and A Half Blog |
