The Thank You

Thank you for your service.

Five words. A bumper sticker, a handshake at the airport, a discount at the hardware store on Veterans Day. The words cost nothing. That’s the point.

He served two tours. Came back with a knee that doesn’t work right and a head that works differently. Filed a disability claim. The VA said four to six months. That was eleven months ago. The letter last week said “pending further review.” Nobody can tell him what that means. The number puts him on hold for forty minutes and transfers him to a voicemail that doesn’t call back.

His congressman posted about “our brave men and women” on Memorial Day. His congressman voted against the VA budget expansion that would have hired the people who process the claims. Both things are true. They’re features.

The institution says thank you. The institution means: we acknowledge you did something and we’d prefer not to discuss the cost. Thank you is a receipt, not a debt.

His wife works two jobs. Not because they’re poor. Because the bills for things the VA hasn’t covered don’t wait for further review. She doesn’t talk about it. Nobody asks. The family that absorbed the cost doesn’t even get the bumper sticker.

The pattern: the institution that asks the most gives back the least, and fills the gap with language. Thank you for your service. We don’t take this decision lightly. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten. True statements that function as closings. Each one a door being shut with a smile.

He doesn’t want thanks. He wants his knee fixed and his claim processed and someone to answer the phone. Those things cost money. The words are free.