People use their EBT cards in the same manner they’d explain their genital condition to the receptionist at a health clinic.  It’s plastic card that signifies nothing more than the designation of government welfare.  It’s not a strain of bacteria resistant gonorrhea, it’s not a contagious or scandalous, but you wouldn’t know the difference.  There’s a glowing shame hovering around EBT cards.  It’s a mixture of merciless judgment, fear of judgment, and the humiliation that comes along with the previous two.

    People sneak that card out of their wallets like a prison shank.  They swipe it furiously though the machine and stash it back into their bra or down the front of their pants.  Their eyes remain low, rising slowly, as if guilty of some criminal act.

    The EBT card is a modern day scarlet letter.  Through the magic of technology, the emblem has been shrunken down, allowing it to be stowed away inconspicuously, behind a drivers license.  I’ve tried to call it.  I’ve used my worst bias and prejudice qualities to say “this one’s definitely an EBT order.”  Time and time again, I’m flat wrong.  My prejudice is based on belly-fat to t-shirt ratio, unhealthy contents of the shopping cart, and dental hygiene.  The formula proves to be inaccurate, repeatedly.  

    The woman with nineteen kids, all under the age of five, all sporting the same bathroom-lighting, uneven mullet, all snot-nosed and shoeless — she pulls out a MasterCard, confidently swipes it though, and is hauled off with her groceries by a pack of howling, sled-dog children.  The homeless, obviously drunk, 10am customer buying a single can of $.79 beer reaches into his pocket and hands me 54 pennines, two dimes, a few broken fingernails, and a nickel.  Then there’s a college age kid.  He’s dressed appropriately, but he’s got those eyes.  He’s concealing his wallet like contraband.  He waits for his opening.  In a moment when I’m looking down, he swipes.  The card is hidden away instantly, but the secret is out.  I can see his method of payment on my end of the transaction.  I can see the breakdown of his EBT food balance versus his EBT cash balance.  It doesn’t matter how close to his vest he holds his card, I’ve spotted the tell.

    I notice this behavior on more than one occasion.  I’ve seen it in middle-aged women with extravagant wedding rings.  I’ve seen it from burley men and malnourished men.  I’ve seen the card discreetly pulled out of designer purses and jeans.  And 99 out of 100 times, it comes out as a shadow, heavy with guilt, and disappears like an apparition.  The spectrum is covered.  They are nice, they are rude, they are beautiful and defective, but collectively, they’re embarrassed.

    It’s a strange thing to witness.  The money spends the same.  It won’t buy booze or laundry detergent, but it works for everything else.  I don’t know a single thing about most of these people, other than their method of payment.  I’m certain they’ve got their own serving of hardship.  Their overall displayed happiness is on par with the Chase card holders, or those swiping Visa cards.  But the EBT users carry a heavy weight in their back pockets — the unappealing and mostly unnecessary weight of shame.

    They are being judged.  Don’t get me wrong.  There’s a reason why they’re behaving this way.  Maybe by the person behind them in line.  There are plenty of prejudice cashiers who will turn their noses at the card.  The worst part about it is, I imagine, they behave in this way every time they make a purchase.  They’re guilt ridden and embarrassed every single time they want to buy bread or milk or Oreos.  Now that’s a shame.

    I can’t protect them from judgement.  It’s going to happen.  In the same way high school kids are going to judge classmates for knockoff brand shoes and bogus jewelry.  It’s immature.  It’s stinky and unnecessarily judgmental — even for a judgmental fucker like myself.  

    The argument is, “They’re spending my tax dollars on Cheetos.”  I get it.  Some people are lazy, surviving off of the time, sweat, and energy of others.  There are people squeezing through loopholes and fattening themselves the way a tick lives behind the ear of a mule deer.  That’s a side effect of a faulty system as much as it’s a fault of the entire human community.  We aren’t all equal.  We’ve got different ethics and addictions and standards.  We’ve got serial killers and war-mongers and petty thieves among the ranks, but it’s these people who are constantly reminded of their impurity.

    My attitude is “fuck it.”  I look at look at EBT cards like arcade tickets dispensed by a faulty machine into the hands of an opportunistic kid.  The whole “my tax dollars” thing is erroneous.  The tax rate doesn’t change every time an EBT card gets shredded.  If you’re going to be upset about “your tax dollars,” you should probably focus on the trillion dollar war-time shakedown, or enormous and unnecessary farm and tobacco subsidies, or the DMV, post office, TSA, or any other extorting government run establishment for that matter.  American’s have the most microscopic, if any, say in where tax dollars are actually going.  The IRS will look up your asshole if you’re audited personally, but the government conveniently shreds all of their purchase records posthaste.

    Think about that the next time you judge someone for their welfare check.  The money is gone.  You’re going to shut up and pay you taxes regardless.  Don’t be mad at the kid for taking advantage of a broken ski-ball machine.  If you’re that upset about it, quit your job and put in your application.  Or are you too prideful to accept free money?  What if it was the lottery or a slot machine? Not too proud for that are you?  Stop acting like you’re starving and these people are snatching the last morsel of bread off your plate.  If you’re that concerned and repulsed by the idea of welfare, then go ahead and spend your life navigating the shark infested political waters, and change the system.  Otherwise, pull out your Visa, pay your taxes, and shut the fuck up.

    If you use an EBT card, stop acting like a leper in a public jacuzzi.  Look people right in the eyes and spend that fucking money.  At least you’re not buying F-35s and dropping bombs on Middle Eastern babies.  Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t — food only.