July 6, 2009 was my first day as a Case Manager in the Department of the Army's Long Term Family Case Management Branch. Those first couple of weeks scared the dickens out of me. I panicked as I began training due to the insurmountable level of knowledge I thought I was going to be expected to attain in the span of only a few weeks. However, I overreacted. (Strange, because that is so uncharacteristic of me...) Training ended and as I took my first couple of phone calls, my panic subsided and I quickly fell into step with the rest of the office. (Thank You, God.)
So, this is the official company line: "Serving Families of fallen Soldiers by providing personalized assistance and guidance in the months and years ahead." A vague and open-ended mission statement. For the Army as a whole, this seems to translate into: "Call ALTFCM when you don't know the answer to the family's question. They'll take care of it." Yes, we will. Now really my job is to provide families with support regarding the following areas:
-Benefit concerns
-Report requests
-Service records
-Support programs
-General questions
Oh, general questions. How I fear you. There is no such thing as a general question. The general question area covers something new with every phone call. Finding a missing truck. Requesting patches from a uniform. Help getting a Gold Star License plate. The rationalization behind a drug prescription. Accusations of murder despite the evidence of suicide. Help with property tax relief. A request for housework assistance. Applying for US citizenship.
My 9-5 is never boring.
And then there are those Survivors that have taken up residence in my soul. The ones that suck the air out of my lungs when their voices shake with grief as they tell me they'd give every penny back if they could just see him again, hold their baby and see his face one more time. The anguish of a mother's broken words, "I miss my child." Or when I find out that the children of these fallen Soldiers have panic attacks and hide in their rooms when anyone in uniform shows up at their house and rings the doorbell, as they flashback to the notification.
My 9-5 breaks my heart.
But thankfully, I work with hilarious people and they balance out the grief transfer of our Survivors. Like SSG Allen, my team lead, who does a SPOT ON impersonation of Forrest Gump. Daily. Or Lisa who does her "monkey dance" which is the most ridiculous looking thing I have ever seen happen in an office. And SSG Cuevas who walks through the office yelling "I'd rather DIE than be a vampire!" because he's obsessed with True Blood. And of course, Katie, who periodically threatens to "wall" me since I showed her the article detailing CIA interrogation techniques. Not to mention the ridiculous inquiries we receive, like the lady who wants the Army to provide her with a pro bono lawyer so she can sue...THE ARMY. Good luck, lady.
My 9-5 cracks me up.
Moral of the story? I really like my job. I feel blessed to have been placed in a position that engages my heart and allows me to grow both professionally and personally. And I get to serve people that could have been me. Whether or not I can explicitly say, THANK YOU for being an Army wife, husband, mother, father, daughter, son... I have the honor of walking with them for a small distance. And what an honor it is.
