Last Friday (2-19), I called to speak with my counselor at OVR, following the guidelines for settling disagreements as outlined at OVR's web site. If after trying to work out an agreement and meeting with no success, applicants are advised to then contact a liaison group which will act as an intermediary.
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When the receptionist answered my call, I explained that I wanted to speak with C.L., my counselor, about the status of my application.
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"Let me give you her supervisor," said harried sounding receptionist.
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Hmmm.
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I eventually had to leave a voice mail message on the supervisor's phone, outlining what I hoped to accomplish and that C.L. was my counselor. I gave my work number and cell phone, stating I could be contacted any time during the day.
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Over the weekend, I began writing an account of my experiences with C.L., in case I had to forward it on to the liaison organization. I wrote it as a straight report, no smart-aleck comments from my brain. I decided to try speaking with C.L. one more time before mailing my request for an intermediary.
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First thing Monday morning, I called OVR again, asked for C.L. and was again directed to her supervisor. I was placed on hold for several minutes, and had to leave another voice mail message.
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Double hmmmmm. What is going on here? This is a state government office, underwritten by the Federal government. Even the dreaded IRS gets back to you faster than this.
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I waited all day for a return call and was half-disappointed, half-angry when quitting time rolled around and there had been no response. Actually, I was more than half-angry; I was ticked!
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This morning, I awoke determined I was going to speak to someone other than the receptionist, or I was going down to their office and not leaving until somebody answered my blooming questions!
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Had to take care of some domestic issues before I could call, and I wanted to find my voice recorder so I could tape the conversation, in case I needed it .
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As I was paying the oil man for yet another delivery, my cell phone buzzed and chirped in an unknown tone. The call was from the cell phone C.L. had used when she last called me. Good! Maybe we could get this mess ironed out without having to resort to arbitration.
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"Hello, C."
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"This is S.N.," the voice answered. "I'm C's supervisor here at the OVR. C.L. is no longer working for us. I'm calling everyone in her case load to catch up with what's happened lately."
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(No kidding!? said brain, stunned at this not-entirely-unwelcome turn of events. There is justice in this world, after all. Be quiet, I warned. No funny stuff today.)
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Seems my counselor left suddenly, didn't show up for work as scheduled, left all her files and others papers in disarray and hasn't been in contact with OVR since sometime the week before last. By my reckoning, that would be shortly after our final conversation.
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S.N., the supervisor, is the polar opposite of C.L. - professional, coherent, organized, efficient. She had taken a folder of client files and was trying to put them in order, to assess just what needed doing next.
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She said it was difficult to determine what C.L. had told me based on her notes, so we spent a few minutes where I told her the gist of the interview and the following phone call. S.N. said it looked like C.L. hadn't contacted my doctors for medical information, so that was the next thing to be done.
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She also said that because C.L.'s cases were having to be taken up by her short-handed staff, the process might take a little longer than normal, but that the office would stay in touch and keep me apprised of their progress. As soon as a new counselor was assigned to my case, he or she would call me, probably within the next two weeks.
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She apologized for what she termed the "unfortunate experiences" I'd had and assured me that that would not be the case in the future.
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I believe her. For one thing, she knew my name without prompting from me. Always a good sign.
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So, we'll see what happens.
