The Unemployment Benefits That Ghosted Me

So there I am, freshly jobless, heart full of hope, bank account full of $8.36, and I do what every responsible, law-abiding, cereal-for-dinner adult does: I apply for unemployment.

Now, applying for unemployment is a journey. A spiritual journey. You don’t just “fill out a form”—you embark on a bureaucratic scavenger hunt where every clue leads to another page that doesn’t load.

But I power through. I submit everything. I dig up W-2s from the Jurassic era. I answer questions like, “Have you turned down any circus performer positions in the last 14 days?” No. Not yet.

Then comes the interview.

A phone call with an agent—let’s call her Linda—who sounds shockingly upbeat for someone who controls my access to rent money. She tells me,

“There are no issues with your claim, Alex. You should be good to go!”

And I—like a fool—believe her.

I hang up. I do a little celebratory unemployed dance. I even say something ridiculous like,

“Whew. At least that’s handled.”

That was 6 months ago.

Since then, I’ve received absolutely nothing. Not a check. Not a letter. Not a whisper.

Linda? Gone. Vanished. Probably working in a witness protection program for overly optimistic claims processors.

I start checking my claim status like it’s a toxic situationship:

“Still pending.”

“Still reviewing.”

“Still evaluating eligibility.”

Eligibility? Ma’am, I’m eligible for everything except peace of mind.

So I try to call. Of course, the phone tree is its own obstacle course. You press 1 for English, 4 for Claims, 7 for Status, 9 for Emotional Support, and then the line disconnects faster than a recruiter after you mention salary expectations.

Eventually, I start fantasizing that maybe the system is just really busy. Like, biblically busy. Like angels and demons are battling over my file in a paperwork purgatory where Linda lost the sticky note with my name on it.

Month five, I begin a new strategy: manifesting.

I whisper “direct deposit” into the void and place my debit card on a vision board.

Still nothing.

By month six, I’ve gone through all five stages of grief and developed a sixth one called “Unemployment Rage Blackout.”

At this point, I don’t even want the money.

Okay—I do. I really do.

But mostly, I want answers. Closure. An apology bouquet.

So if you’re wondering whether applying for unemployment is easy, let me save you the trouble:

It’s like dating someone who tells you they love you… and then never texts back.

And yet, somehow…

I still log in every day, whisper, “Maybe today’s the day,” and hit refresh.

Because when you’ve made it this far—through the wait, the silence, and the bureaucratic Bermuda Triangle—you’ve earned the title:

“Certified Hopeful & Slightly Delusional Benefit Believer.”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go stare at my claim status and pretend it doesn’t hurt.