After nearly two decades of working my tail off at the Social Security Administration, they decided to shut down our office without so much as a second thought. Twenty years of showing up, clocking in, and dealing with the endless stream of frustrated claimants, complicated paperwork, and underfunded systems. And what do I get in return? A pat on the back and a “Thanks for your service.”

Six days a week I worked. Six. And not because I had to, but because I gave a damn. I stayed late. I answered calls when no one else would. I kept the wheels turning in a system that was so bogged down it’s a miracle anything got done. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

They say it’s about ‘efficiency.’ Sure. Efficiency for who? Not the people who relied on us to get their disability claims processed. Not the elderly folks who needed answers about their benefits. And definitely not the people like me who gave up nights, weekends, and any semblance of a personal life just to keep up with the endless backlog.

I’ve watched new management come and go, each one promising to ‘fix the system.’ Spoiler alert: they never did. They cut corners, ignored warnings, and shoved more work onto fewer people. And now they’ve cut us entirely.

The most infuriating part? They act like it’s just business. Like we’re numbers on a spreadsheet instead of people who’ve spent years serving our communities. I’ve held the hands of seniors who broke down crying because they couldn’t navigate the convoluted process. I’ve spent hours finding answers for people who deserved dignity, not delay. But all that dedication means nothing to the ones holding the purse strings.

So yeah, I’m bitter. I’m angry. And I’m exhausted. But I’m also proud. Proud of the work I did. Proud of the people I served. And proud of the colleagues who stood beside me through it all.

To whoever decided my office wasn’t worth keeping: I hope you never have to stand in line for hours just to get answers. I hope you never feel the frustration of being treated like an inconvenience. But if you do, maybe then you’ll understand just what you took away.