After what seems like a couple years now I've decided to revisit our local food bank. DSHS apparently believes that there's been a recent change in my income, so they've notified me of a decrease in my food stamp allowance. It's a common tactic with them. They'll issue a letter with some made-up excuse to cut you back, and if you don't refute it, that magically means their "guess" was correct.
Employed on a wide scale, this tactic serves to appease temporarily those conservative legislators who are congenitally hostile to welfare programs.
The food bank has also suffered cut backs since I was there last. With less food, the line of bodies moves more quickly. Toiletries are no longer handed out. The volunteer staff has changed, they no longer recognize my card. I have to reapply, naturally. I'm prepared.
People are well-behaved, for the most part, save one unmasked fellow who encourages his dog to jump on the few chairs available, smearing its wet, muddy paws on the seats. He talks so loudly that I can hardly communicate with the office attendant.
Despite my criticisms, things seem to run efficiently. They're out of romaine by the time my number is called, only fresh kale left. Government cheese, which I hadn't seen for decades, is in stock. Hope it's not that old. On my second trip later there is no dairy available.
One rule of note: Face masks are actually required, they had them out as you take a number.
