The exasperation began exactly at 11:49 a.m. on Jan. 5.
The phone call lasted 27 seconds before a message, blaming call volume, forced me to hang up. I called the Unemployment Insurance Agency at least 50 times over the next 15 days before I got through.
Michigan's unemployed residents face tough prospects in a downtrodden state. While they search for work, many tangle with a system that's supposed to help.
Getting an unemployment check can be a full-time job.
Claiming unemployment
Like other Record-Eagle employees, I take week-long, unpaid furloughs every quarter. Hourly wage reporters may file for benefits to cover the five days of no-pay, a process I've undertaken about a dozen times.
Typically, it's a tedious but tolerable task. I complete an online claim while I'm laid off. That's followed a couple weeks later by a certification call to Michigan's Automated Response Voice Interactive Network.
"You can call me MARVIN," says a male voice every time I dial. I'm sure he's been called worse.
I answer a series of yes/no questions and am provided a dollar amount to be paid. Usually, the money is deposited in my checking account within a few days. Sometimes, the aid arrives before the paycheck I would have earned.
There are often a few hiccups. MARVIN's governmental verbiage may trip me up, but I muddle through.
Until the week of Dec. 12-16. That's when I squeezed in my last required furlough before year's end. I filed an online claim and received instructions to call MARVIN the morning of Dec. 26.
I missed my time slot, but MARVIN allows make-up dates for delinquents like me. I called again, but instead of providing a payment amount, MARVIN told me to call for help if payment is not received in 10 days.
A check around the newsroom confirmed my concern. Others who have received the same response advised me to call the unemployment agency and inquire.
"You won't get paid if you don't call," co-workers cautioned.
Thus began a bout of head-banging frustration and repeat dialing. My phone log from Jan. 5 to Jan. 20 makes me look like a stalker, crazed to connect to anyone at the other end of (866) 500-0017.
I've called back since, to provide a typical transcript:
"Welcome to the Unemployment Insurance Agency," the female voice says.
I press 3.
"Please stay on the line for the next available representative," she says.
Silence. Sometimes an announcement or a snippet of a "Pure Michigan" ad. Michigan's just messing with me now. Tim Allen's voice caresses each line — delivered like a sonnet, not a sales pitch on the joys of Michigan winters. "Snow will melt off our boots," Allen intones. I grip the phone. Salt, not snow, in the wounds of a woman on both a budget and a staycation.
Then, the death knell. Swift, without apology.
"Unfortunately, no agents are available to take your call at this time. Please hang up, and try your call again later," the voice says.
Three beeps. Call ends.
8:57 a.m. on Jan. 9: 42 seconds then booted.
12:32 p.m., the same day: 9 seconds. Hopes dashed in about the time Usain Bolt can run the 100-meter dash.
Ten attempts on Jan. 11, all thwarted. Another 10 on both Jan. 17 and 18. I call on lunch breaks. I call from my desk, fingers straying from keyboard to phone and back.
Finally, I got smart. I punched the redial button at 8 a.m. sharp on Jan. 20, timing it to when the agency opens.
After an 18-minute call, much of it spent on hold, I'm promised my payment is on the way. A rep told me I failed to fill out a back-to-work date on my initial claim in December. I'm sure I provided that information, but I gave it again.
On Jan. 24, the unemployment agency deposited $309.22 in my bank account.
But, enough about me
Co-workers swap similar tales of confusing instructions, busy signals and slow payment. One still hasn't received benefits from the furlough she took at the end of November.
Here's the thing: I'm not alone, and I'm far from the worst-off.
I have a computer and Wi-Fi to file my claim. I own a car and an iPhone with a generous calling plan. I have a college degree and a reporter's ability to unravel bureaucratic jargon.
Most importantly, I have a job. It pays me for all but four weeks of the year. The furloughs sting, but I make my rent.
How do those less fortunate fare?
How can a single mom spare time to dial dozens of futile calls? How does a laid-off, minimum wage worker afford technology to file the claims? If he can't, how does he afford a car to get to library computers? Without a car, how much time does he spend asking friends for rides or waiting for the BATA bus?
How does a high school dropout navigate a maze of forms, questions and changing rules?
At best, the unemployment agency provides prompt payment when people need it. At worst, the system seems designed to confound, discourage and deter those in desperate situations.
I'm lucky. I have the luxury of being merely inconvenienced and annoyed.
Contact Vanessa McCray at vmccray@record-eagle.com.


