Housing Allowance Back Pay: Fill & Download for Free

My father worked for Reserve Bank of India. Later he joined NABARD.As children, we never appreciated that but wished, our fathers were business men with pots and pots of money.Wish granted. My friend is a physician in the USA. He works insane hours, since he is into emergency medicine. He says he is so tired once he is back, that till date, he has never sat with his children and read a book with them. His children are now in university. Yes, he travels business class, wears designer clothes, has all high end cars in his garage. Working has become an obsession, with him.One of the RBI protéges, is working with a multinational bank. She gets a fat pay packet at the end of the month. She leaves home at nine and is back by nine. Sitting whole day on the chair has given her a chronic back pain.Most of my friends and acquaintances from my father's RBI days are from elite colleges. A major percentage are settled in USA.My father worked five days a week. He would be back home by six. Evening hours would be spent browsing through the newspaper and helping children with their studies. No one hence, went for tuitions. But most of the children made it to the best of engineering and medical colleges.Every year most went to hometowns. There would be an annual leave of forty days for all employees with travel fare, first class.Medical bills and housing allowances are always taken care off. My father developed acute medical problems in old age. He got treatment in the best hospitals. The hefty bills were taken care of by the bank.

I was working with artist formally known as Prince. The purple one himself, was unbeknownst to me at the time, taking a lot of drugs. The type of drugs that are said to have finally killed him.He was very abusive and yet polite at the same time. It was odd. The last day I worked for him, he ordered me to do an impossible task. When I told him I couldn't do it, he saw this as an act of defiance. He blamed me for not doing the task and framed it as me being the one at fault. Told me I was wasting his time. I thought this would all blow over by the next day, but I was never allowed in after that day.He had six months worth of back pay on me and had seized over $60,000 of my equipment, at his house. I had to sue him for the money and the equipment back. After three years, I got the back pay (half of which went to my lawyer), but never got my equipment back.

As my marriage began to unravel, my (then) husband became worse and worse with money.First, he wouldn’t come home for days, leaving the kids and me with no car. That meant if I needed groceries, I had to walk 8 blocks to one store or 11 to another and carry them home.I couldn’t ask my father for a lot of help, as my mother had cancer. More often than not, I was helping her, and my father was filling in when I couldn’t.One day, I found I had no bread or milk for my children. I went to the cabinet where I kepy emergency money, only to find the jar empty. The “proud papa” took it. I scooped up whatever spare change I could find and went to the grocery. At the counter, I found I was short. I was ready to cry. I tried to think of which should I put back, when the grocer told me someone behind me paid for my groceries. I cried as I took the bag and said thank you.Walking home I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. The jerk stopped his paychecks from going to our joint account. He wouldn’t pay the mortgage or utilities.I had a bank book that he forgot about, and with that I paid bills for as long as I could. I put my children on food stamps to put food on the table. I put a lien on my house since you couldn’t qualify for services if you owned a house. Passover was coming and I didn’t have a penny.Agencies that claimed to help made you feel like you were robbing them if you asked for food. I got one parcel and was sick. Everything was dated a month or two before: the juice, other items, and the raw chicken - which smelled so bad I threw it out.I begged my brother for $200 so we could have a nice holiday. He gave it to me - and never let me forget it. If he needed a favor, he reminded me that I owed him. I was so ashamed I never told my parents.The house went to foreclosure about the same time the utilities were shut off. I borrowed money from my father to move and pay first month’s rent on an apartment. When I finally started working I put aside $10 a month to pay him back. It was hard, and I barely made ends meet. My kids hadn’t gotten new clothes at this point in nearly two years.I was still chasing my separated husband to get him to court. Finally, I hired three court servers for $200 a piece to wait at each exit at his job. He was served his subpoena to appear in court. After some delays - didn’t come with a lawyer, fired his lawyer in court - the judge asked him why he didn’t take care of his family. He said I’m having problems with their mother. The judge said “Why didn’t you buy food? Pay for the house? Clothes? What did you do for your children?” He kept trying to say he was having a problem with me and the judge got angry.“What did you do with your money?” the judge asked. We presented photos of his new sexy sports car - bought with the money that was supposed to take care of his children. The judge told him “I’m done talking to you.” Then she asked me what I had done for my children.I showed her the paperwork for food stamps, proof I sold jewelry and used the bank book I had to pay utilities. I just got a job, so we were under a roof.She told my then husband “you earn almost 3 times as much as your wife and you did nothing for your children?” She ordered child support at the maximum allowable by law, as well as back pay of money he should have paid since January (it was now October).He screamed “where will I get that kind of money?” The judge said “sell your sexy car, that doesn’t have room for your three children.” My attorney stepped up and said “we would like to show more mercy than he showed to his children. He can pay off his wife in semi monthly checks.”He took the deal, never realizing he would be paying me for three years. The extra money coming in meant my kids could get new clothes for the first time in two years, I paid my father back the money he lent me - and I gave my brother $300 when he lent me $200. I told him the extra $100 was for him to shove it anywhere he wanted - I didn’t want him to talk to me like I was dirt again. In spite of my brother’s protests that he didn’t mean to humiliate me, he did in fact keep the extra hundred.Today, I’m a bit better off. But I still need to watch my money. Sometimes I get depressed and buy junk I don’t need. But I try hard to avoid that.