From Welfare To Work Would-Be Masseuse Finds Rub In Reform Says State Orders Her Into Low-Paying Job, Not Own Career

Suzanne Coyne took the sign on the wall of the north Spokane welfare office seriously: “If you can imagine it, you can become it.”

She planned to launch her own massage business in March, imagining it would get her off welfare for good.

But Coyne’s welfare case manager, Connie Rowland, has a different plan in mind.

Coyne, a single mother of two, is chasing a risky dream as an excuse to dodge strict work requirements, said Rowland.

Instead of harboring entrepreneur dreams, Coyne should take any job offered and climb the economic ladder, she said.

They disagree about much: Coyne’s honesty, her work ethic and, most importantly, her business plan.

An “annoyed” Rowland last week cut Coyne’s $546 welfare check by $100 a month. Shelve the home business and come to a job-hunting workshop, Rowland told Coyne.

As a result of the conflict, a welfare fraud investigator is also looking into Coyne’s plasma donations as unreported income.

Such investigations are routine when welfare recipients are fined for non-compliance. But Coyne was rattled when the investigator appeared on her doorstep, carrying a copy of a recent Spokesman-Review story about her home business plans.

“It was like two slaps in the face in a week,” said Coyne, who donates blood when she’s too broke to buy groceries.

Coyne is appealing the cut in benefits, which have been restored pending a hearing. She argues that preparing for her massage business should count toward the state’s 20-hour-a-week work requirement.

But until the appeal is resolved Coyne will grudgingly yield to Rowland and attend the workshops.

“Because I don’t have money, my choices are limited,” said Coyne, 28. “Unfortunately, I need the state’s help.”

Under WorkFirst, the state’s revamped welfare system, caseworkers like Rowland have broad powers to shape the lives of their clients. They have authority to yank up to 40 percent of welfare grants, end child-care subsidies and trigger fraud investigations.

The “super case manager” was billed as a one-stop innovation in social services, but critics say it gives godlike power to people not trained as social workers.

Rowland was a numbers-cruncher at the Department of Social and Health Services for 10 years before getting her new job last fall.

“I’m not good at hand-holding,” she said. “If I tell someone to do something, I expect them to do it. … I don’t call myself a social worker and never will.”

As the result of job changes and vague new rules governing welfare programs, case managers are delivering widely varying advice.

Self-employment, for example, has been OK’d by some. But Rowland says self-employment is not permissible, based on a new interpretation of rules from welfare headquarters in Olympia.

Coyne is better off taking a minimum-wage job for 20 hours a week, Rowland said. Only then will the state help her - offering such incentives as free child care, gas vouchers and vocational training.

After Coyne missed three mandatory job-search workshops in January and February, Rowland became frustrated.

“I feel like I’m banging my head against the wall every time I try to do something,” she said. “She does the opposite. She hasn’t shown me she wants to cooperate.”

Coyne said she missed the workshops because her kids got sick: Dave, 2, had an abscessed tooth; 7-year-old Amanda had an earache and couldn’t go to school.

Taking a low-paying job isn’t a path to self-sufficiency, she insists. Opening her business, Healing Hands Massage, is.

With help from the nonprofit Spokane Neighborhood Action Program, she’s polishing business and marketing plans.

She has a donated massage table in a room of her northwest Spokane home and a tidy in-home office. Licenses are in hand, including certification as a massage therapist.

She’s been mentored by experienced therapists and has studied how to run a business. She plans to buy insurance once she gets approved for a new credit card.

Running her own business has been a dream since an unexpected pregnancy eight years ago landed her on welfare. A second unplanned birth and a bouts of depression kept her on the dole.

Now, so near her goal, she feels shackled by inflexible rules.

“They need to look at each family individually and see what’s best,” she said. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m not trying to wiggle out” of work requirements.

Ray Lancaster, SNAP’s small business specialist, said businesses often take years to pay off. But Coyne’s plan is good, he said, and could turn a welfare recipient into a well-paid professional.

“We’re dealing with adults here, and they need to have a total say in what is right for their families,” Lancaster says.

Coyne stubbornly plans to continue with her business plans while complying with state guidelines.

“This just makes me more determined to get self-sufficient,” she said.

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: WHERE ARE THEY NOW The Spokesman-Review is following three Spokane County families as they attempt to move from welfare to work. Here are updates on the Coynes and Thaemerts.