Good Samaritan VA: Where the Only Thing They Transition You Into Is a Mental Breakdown

 

Let’s talk about the Good Samaritan Veterans Outreach and Transition Center—a name so ironically misleading it should be considered stolen valor. First of all, “Good Samaritan”? I’ve seen more compassion from a DMV kiosk at closing time. The only thing “good” about this place is the parking lot, and that’s just because it’s the first exit strategy you find.

From the moment you walk in, you’re met with all the warmth of a TSA pat-down in a cold shower. The front desk staff treat you like you’re interrupting their day. Sorry, I didn’t realize asking for help at a VETERANS SUPPORT CENTER was such a burden. My bad—I forgot the real mission here is getting people in and out like it’s a McVA drive-thru.

And let’s talk about that one staff member—you know the one. The guy who weaponized a sign like it was a PhD thesis. “Can you read the sign?” he asked, like he was Socrates quizzing the village idiot. Sir, I can read the sign. But I didn’t expect the customer service to come with an SAT question and a side of condescension. That’s the equivalent of a lifeguard yelling at a drowning man: “Can’t you read the No Swimming sign?”

This place is less of a resource center and more of a psychological escape room: you're lost, confused, and every time you ask for help, they just point at another sign like you’re starring in a scavenger hunt designed by Kafka. Honestly, I’ve had better communication with my VA claims portal—and that thing still says “Pending.”

And the vibe? Imagine walking into a place built to help veterans... that feels like it’s actively trying to trigger them. Cold stares, passive-aggressive sighs, and the subtle but unmistakable body language of people who want you out faster than a bad review. The only thing these people transition you into is rage.

Good Samaritan? Please. If Jesus told that parable today, this would be the priest and Levite who walk right past the wounded man, but not before telling him to fill out form 1082-B in triplicate and take a seat for three hours. This place isn’t a transition center. It’s an exit strategy for empathy.

So, if you’re a veteran hoping for guidance, warmth, or even basic human decency, here’s my advice: Transition your ass to literally any other facility. Because the only outreach happening here is them reaching for the clock so they can count down the minutes ‘til they stop pretending to care.