Harried state agency shows its humanity
John, a 73-year-old counselor to addicts and alcoholics, finds himself in the same unwanted category as 111,000 other people in New Mexico.
He is out of work. The contract job he held at a county jail ended with the onslaught of COVID-19.
His story deviates from many of the others in one way. John received $169 a week in unemployment benefits until the beginning of October. Without explanation, the money stopped coming.
John doesn’t have a computer or a cellphone. He couldn’t log on to the website of the state Department of Workforce Solutions to look for answers.
But he is skilled at working his landline telephone. He had dialed Workforce Solutions since April and responded to all eligibility questions posed by the agency.
John always rose before 7 a.m. to call at the beginning of the business day. This had been an effective strategy, phoning before the lines clogged with unemployed callers.
But in the last three weeks of phone calls to Workforce Solutions, John never reached a person. He says the department’s automated system for leaving his number to receive a return call doesn’t work. The department leader says otherwise.
Frustration and fear took over John’s life. His unemployment compensation might not sound like much, depending on your circumstance, but it’s crucial to him.
“I like to eat three meals a day. I’m at a loss at where to go,” he said.
Among government bureaucracies, New Mexico’s is not so big and cold as to be untouchable.
To begin looking into John’s case, I called and sent messages to the spokeswoman for the Department of Workforce Solutions. She had the day off.
But Bill McCamley, Cabinet secretary of the department, called me within 20 minutes.
Believe me, that’s unusual. Executives of most government agencies aren’t so close to the trenches that they will discuss one case in 111,000.
“I haven’t got a ton of time,” McCamley said, asking for the essentials as John had relayed them.
He listened to my 20-second summation and promised to get back to me.
That same afternoon, McCamley sent me a lengthy email and said he would
follow up with a phone call.
McCamley wrote that John probably had received unemployment benefits for 26 weeks, but then his eligibility expired. John might need to apply for Pandemic Emergency Unemployment Compensation, McCamley said.
He suggested that John do this online. I told McCamley John doesn’t have internet access. What should he do?
McCamley phoned me a couple of hours later.
He wouldn’t go into details about John’s case, but said his staff was on top of it. John would get a call this same day from someone at Workforce Solutions to try to resolve any question about his eligibility.
McCamley, a former state legislator, took over the Department of Workforce Solutions in 2019 after Democratic Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham’s election. No department except the governor’s office itself has been under as much pressure as McCamley’s agency.
“The job is heartbreaking,” McCamley said. “I had one guy call me about his benefits, and he was living in his truck. The virus
is completely controlling our operations.”
Administering unemployment compensation is difficult for another reason.
“This is a program that was invented in 1935, when people’s economic lives were fairly simple,” McCamley said.
In those days of the Great Depression, people usually had one job at one place. When the coronavirus pandemic hit, a single worker might have been waiting tables, driving for Uber and running a small business by teaching a yoga class.
Unemployment claims now are complex. One snag can necessitate an hour-long phone conversation with someone on McCamley’s staff.
His agency had 9,600 claims on March 9. The number soared to 150,000 in late June, fallout from the pandemic. It’s dipped since but remains in six figures.
The surge in claims occurred as McCamley assigned most of his staff to work from home, a precaution against the contagious disease.
An unexpected benefit emerged. Applicants for jobs at Workforce Solutions didn’t have to be from Albuquerque. McCamley has been able to hire staffers from across the state.
Call-in hours were extended, and other state employees were assigned temporarily to Workforce Solutions during peak periods.
“In terms of what we are doing, let me be clear: We are not perfect,” McCamley said.
But, he said, his staff ’s efforts have been extraordinary.
“Every single person in our department has touched unemployment claimants to help them out,” McCamley said.
As for John, he received a call from a Workforce Solutions staffer soon after McCamley rang me.
As it turned out, John said, he needs to supply his 2019 tax
returns to continue receiving benefits. Never was he informed of this by regular mail, his only means of communication if phone conversations don’t occur.
But John wasn’t so upset anymore. He said McCamley’s agency had provided good service until October, and seemed to be on track again.
John has been a counselor to addicts for 48 years. It’s all he knows. Computers and online access to Workforce Solutions are a mystery.
He will gather the necessary documents, find a business with a fax machine and send McCamley’s department the verification it needs.
There’s no end in sight to this plague. But at least McCamley’s crew interrupts nightmares — one person at a time.
Ringside Seat is an opinion column about people, politics and news. Contact Milan Simonich at msimonich@sfnewmexican.com or 505-986-3080.