So I hope all of you and yours had a Merry Xmas or Happy Holidays, or whatever PC euphemism you prefer. Just managed to stop by the library long enough to do some last minute blogging to ring out 2011, a year that your humble narrator would just as soon forget. The Mayans said 2012 is the year the workl ends but my personal Armageddon arrived a year earlier. Well, big deal. If the Mayans were such know-it-alls, why'd they get wiped out? Guess they didn't see that coming, did they? But I digest ...
Did you get all the stuff you wanted for Xmas? I got a secondhand watch and a pair of socks, but I'm not complaining. I actually did need the socks. They came courtesy not of St. Nick but an SA volunteer whom I will dub St. Matthew, or Matt. SA volunteers come in two varieties: Some come from the $8 a night dorms where I originally stayed (btw, those beds are now free from now until the end of winter at which time normal pricing will resume. Not surprisingly, that dorm is full up. In fact, while I essentially breezed into the SA program, there is now a considerable waiting list for the same thing. Like they say, timing is everything). Those dorm dwellers can volunteer to work on the SA campus as kitchen workers, maintenance workers, etc, in return for a free bed and one free meal a day.
The other type of volunteer comes to SA as part of their community service in exchange for paying a fine (or jail time) for, say, too many DUIs. These workers usually stay from 2-5 days depending on their court deal. The dorm volunteers can stay on for years. Perhaps because they're working for room, board and food, I've often noticed the dorm volunteers often work harder that the regular clients like myself. There's a guy who is at least 80 who arrives in the kitchens at 4:30 am to make coffee and help out, then leaves at 7 only to return again for a shift that lasts from 1-7 pm. So far as I know he hasn't missed a day. His name is Nick and while he is a dependable worker, I wonder if he's missed his calling. Standing around 5'7 and 140 lbs, Nick has a wizened wrinkly face and speaks with a gravelly NYC accent that would make him a natural character actor for a Scorcese mob flick. The fact that he curses like a sailor doesn't hurt his image.
Anyway, back to Matt. Matt is a really nice guy, around 60ish, with a bright face and cheerful disposition. He usually does the cleaning chores around the kitchen, wiping down tables and mopping floors, etc. Matt is also what some might term a 'Jesus freak', although that might be harsh. Judge for yourself. Remember I said I got a pair of socks from him? When I mentioned to him that I really needed a pair, he said, "God knew you needed that pair of socks, and he guided them to you. I had nothing to do with it." Or if you give him a compliment about how he mops the floor he'll reply with, "It's not me. It's the Lord working through me that makes the floor so clean." Or when he once invited me to attend his local church services (which I can't because it conflicts with my schedule; no, it really does) he said, "God is guiding me to seek out people to attend this church." And so on. Basically no matter what you talk to him about, Matt will find a way to weave God's guidance into the conversation. Let's say that certain people find the habit annoying.
Some have apparently been offended when he leaves for the day saying, "God bless you." I've never found that offensive, but I have been somewhat amused by his constant evocation of the Lord's presence in everything he does. I've sometimes wonder if God occasionally rolls his eyes and mutters, "Jesus, Matt, give it a rest." For the record, I'm not making fun of Matt. To be honest, I actually envy him. I envy the fact that he has found a higher power he can surrender himself. I envy that he can be so devoted without questioning his faith. I don't doubt his strong faith keeps Matt's disposition amicable and has resulted in a youthful look in his face. If his faith makes it possible for him to find peace within his heart, cause harm to none and simply attempt to share the blessings he has found, who is to say he's wrong? I honestly wish there was something to which I could offer my blind devotion. I expect I'm too much of a doubting Thomas to ever allow myself to do such a thing.
Some other things going on: Over the past couple weeks, my routine has settled down a bit. And that makes me nervous. You see, I don't want to get too comfortable living in what is essentially a homeless shelter. Yet I see many of my fellow clients settling into what seems to be a kind of domestic bliss. They view their time in the vocational program as normal everyday life. They hang out with friends, watch TV in the common room, play foosball and pool, and generally seem to enjoy themselves in this Salvation Army environment. Is it me, or does this seem unnatural?
Speaking for myself, I didn't come here to watch TV, trade DVDs or play games. While I prefer people like me, I didn't enter the SA program to win Facebook friends or have a vacation. I came here to go through the program, re-enter the work force and rebuild my life; and trust me, there's a lot of painful rebuilding ahead. To me it seems abnormal to view this living situation at SA as 'normal'. To me, it's a temporary living condition that I want to escape as quickly as possible. I can't tell you how much I miss living alone, on my own schedule. While it pales in comparison to my former plight, it actually gets tiresome passing in and out of checkpoints while security guards breathalyze you. In all honesty, though, I don't have a problem with SA. They've been very helpful and have provided me with a foundation on which I can re-examine myself, learn new skills, and resume a normal lifestyle.
Another problem I've having isn't with SA per se, but with the general neighborhood itself. While I've described how this area is infested with all types of indigents due to the preponderance of charities and cheap beds, the number of homeless people seems to have grown as the weather has turned colder. This is evidenced by the 'settlments' that have multiplied recently. To the east on Owens Ave you can find a 'strip mall' of tents and shelters erected against a freeway overpass. A few steps farther and you'll find a large open gravel lot. Around this lot are ringed more tents and shelters. Even a few cars are parked there; they presumably belong to homeless people who are sleeping in their vehicles (there are actually websites devoted to living in your car. Google the subject if you don't believe me).
It's strange to see these people milling about like they're out for a stroll in their neighborhood. Stranger still to see trucks and vans filled with food and clothing roll up and hand out the items to the occupants. Why do I say this? While the intentions of those donating the items is no doubt pure, couldn't such actions be viewed as actually enabling the homeless to maintain their current level of existence? One could argue that the homeless are in effect being rewarded by receiving items for free simply because they've chosen to live outside the mainstream of society. Perhaps this is coming off colder than I've intended, but I do feel there is a point where such donations can do as much harm as good. I've seen how the homeless come to depend on these handouts, and it seems to eradicate any compunction on their part to rejoin society.
They know that sooner or later some charity will roll by with free food and clothing (not to mention blankets, toiletries, etc.). While handing out free meals to the homeless at SA, many of them brag about never having to buy a meal all day. They know when churches serve free meals. and they know when and where to go for plenty of handouts. For a time I also stood in line for various stuff, but I've since given that up. I don't like standing in line with a lot of those guys anymore because I don't want to be associated with them. I also don't want to need handouts from anyone, so I've given up on the freebies. I'm not saying it's wrong, just not something I wish to partake of any longer.
Walking westward on Owens Ave to the corner of Las Vegas Blvd North you'll find the largest homeless settlement. Located across the street from a cemetery (the one with the black rooster) it's a sprawling piece of undeveloped acreage that is increasing populated by more and more tents and shelters. Here you'll find a community of homeless so large that food trucks regularly stop by (maybe they take food stamps?); if the settlement gets any bigger, it'll need its own zip code. You'll find families living in makeshift shelters, with their kids using the dirt and gravel lots as a playground. Pieces of furniture like sofas and tables are strategically placed to keep tent fabric from flying off. Drug dealing and prostitution is evident even though NLV cop cars regularly patrol the area.
Oddly, the cops seem more fixated on running off panhandlers than cracking down on the other vice going on in the area. Occupants use the area as a kind of public toilet as well. It's not uncommon to see any of them doing their business in broad daylight. I recently witnessed a sight so disgusting I couldn't eat lunch that day. (No doubt it'll show up on YouTube.) A sewer-like smell is becoming ever more noticeable. You'd think sanitation concerns would be enough to shut the site down. And you have to wonder about the effect this has on the local property values. Many homes are located near this settlement. Would a selling point be, "Offers excellent view of the daily activities of the homeless camp. Watch transients go to the bathroom from your living room window!"
The biggest irony, imo? This homeless camp is located smack across the street from a brand new construction project with a sign that proudly beams, "Welcome to the Great City of North Las Vegas Nevada"!
I recently completed SA's Essential Employment Skills (EES) Classes. It's a series of classes designed for 're-entry'. That is, trying to get clients with substance abuse problems and/or criminal histories to re enter the work force. To that end, there's a lot of obvious stuff taught like, Don't walk into an interview with your iPod blasting. Don't say things to the interviewer like, "Yo what up, homes," or "What it be like, dawg?" Don't wear shorts, don't go into an interview high or buzzed, don't use profanity, don't hit on the secretary (or the interviewer), etc. Stuff that should basically be common sense; and would be viewed as such in most cases. But there are some hardheads for whom common sense might as well be a foreign language.
The teacher of the course is a man named Sam, who has a tendency to drone on and then suddenly pound the chalkboard to emphasize his points. Example: "When you walk in for an interview, do you wear sunglasses? NO! (pound) WRONG! (pound). Do you wear swimming trunks and say, Yo dude got any jobs? What? HELLO?! (pound) WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? (pound). Stuff like that. Sam is very matter of fact and it wouldn't surprise me if he is or had been some sort of a parole officer in his career. I sometimes wondered if he didn't pound the board so forcefully in order to make sure the students were staying awake.
As I've stated before, their programs are really geared toward recovering substance abusers and ex-cons. My own personal problems stem from neither condition. I can tell you it still freaks me out to hear guys (and girls) casually dropping references like, "Yeah, when I was in county lock up ..." or ""We did it differently when I was in prison ...." or "I gotta go meet with my motherf***in' parole officer again," or "Can I get a job even if I have multiple felonies like assault with a deadly weapon on my record?" There are all actual statements I've heard, made as casually as you please. While it's a bit mind blowing to me, these are legit concerns for those affected. Both my SA casework and my shrink have told me that rap sheets make it extremely difficult for ex-cons to get jobs. They can automatically discount any job with any government agency (on any level). And while big name casinos in LV claim to be equal opportunity employers, it's not exactly a secret that ex-cons are wasting their time applying there.
Since my time is dwindling, let me hit a few salient points: On the work front, my kitchen schedule has been changed from 12-8pm to 5am-1pm. Safe to say it's been a shock to my system. While I have managed to make it on time, it still feels wrong to get up so early. I prefer waking up when the sun is warm, or at least visible. The early shift has afforded me the chance to resume cutting meat. I couldn't tell you how many pounds of dead chicken flesh I sliced and diced the other day. I also had a chance to make my first food: French toast.
Well, it's a start. I'm thinking of my own version: French Cajun Toast, which swaps cinnamon for cayenne pepper. I'd say it's a taste treat guaranteed to wake up your body from top to bottom! Most of the guys on the first shift are experienced cooks and have worked in food service for years. The lead cook told me he's a licensed home security specialist. While he made a good living as such, he loves to cook, so money doesn't enter the equation. I've heard similar such stories from other kitchen workers. While many of these guys do have the experience and the talent, they also have records. It'll be interesting to see how many of them land jobs, and where.
I am also thinking about life after SA. I might opt for a casino, since I have no criminal record and my caseworker told me that should help with employment opportunities. One of my co-workers said he thought I'd make a great maitre'd, so I'm looking into that possibility. That position seems to value people skills as much or more than food/cooking skills, so that might give me a shot. Wherever it is, I'd like it to be an entertainment-themed establishment like the Hard Rock Cafe, House of Blues, or a smaller nightclub or dinner theatre. That way, I might be able to put my acting skills to better effect. There's also the chance of working for the National Parks, which might be a great experience. Wouldn't hurt to get out of Vegas for a while. If you have any ideas, pass 'em along.
So I'm closing out 2011 on a far different note than it began. I"m still not sure what to make of it all. There are still the days where I think I dreamt everything and I'll wake up to resume my former life. Other days my mind is preoccupied with what when wrong and what I could have done to avoid it. And other days, like today, I feel discomforted and discontented. But it's not necessarily a bad feeling. It's a core sensation that I want to move on with my life and leave the past behind. Take that for your cliche of the day. At any rate have a safe and happy new year. I'll likely be asleep when 2012 rolls in, so mind yourselves and we'll meet again next year.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Homelessness: It's Not Just For Crackheads Anymore Part Nine
Previously on HINJFCA:
Unassuming writer and voice actor Jim Morris had been overtaken by his archenemy Major Depressive Disorder. Despite Jim's valiant attempts to fight off the mental malefactor, he finally was overcome by the Major's power and succumbed to his hated -- and mysterious foe? Mysterious? Indeed. You see, the Major had never fully revealed himself until January of 2011. But the Major is a devious foe and carefully calculated his appearances. First as headaches and feelings of confusion experienced by Jim. Then as episodes of severe depression (yes the Major more than lived up to his name), resulting in extended crying jags, thoughts of suicide, and finally the rejection of his entire life. The Major basically caused Jim to simply stop caring about anything: Food, survival, sex, sports, movies, you name it. All the things Jim cared about -- including himself -- were flushed down the proverbial toilet.
The Major savored his victory as Jim was evicted from his apartment, lost most of his possessions, and was near penniless as he was cast onto the mean streets of Las Vegas. This looked like the end for our hero ... But wait! After spending a long night in a public park, a distant ally helped Jim with enough cash to afford a hotel room the following night. Later, Jim found his way to North Las Vegas and the Salvation Army (all recounted in this HINJFCA blog). After some night staying in the homeless shelter dorm, he was accepted into the SA vocational program with the target of working in their kitchens in order to become eligible for their culinary course co-sponsored by the State of Nevada and a local college. Well! It seemed as though things were brightening up for our hero. Or were they? He was still homeless and jobless. And now he was confronted with a whole new challenge in terms of learning about the food service business and dealing with the many volatile personalities found in SA. Will Jim survive? Can he continue his comeback against the Major and ultimately defeat his foe? And most important, will Jim ever get a PS3? These and more answers forthcoming as the HINJFCA saga continues ...
The above was written for readers who are new to this blog and may have wandered in during the middle of these events. My name is Jim Morris. I'm just a guy who has never been in trouble with the law, always played by the rules, and just happened to be afflicted with Major Depressive Disorder. That led to my becoming homeless and having to adapt to a whole new lifestyle as I try to get myself (and my life) back together as I work within the Salvation Army vocational program. This blog is officially called "Homelessness: It's Not Just For Crackheads Anymore" but I use the admittedly convoluted acronym "HINJFCA". For the record, I have never done crack. I don't drink, I don't do drugs, and I don't gamble. I've never been incarcerated, nor have I ever been arrested. My 'rap sheet' would consist of a single moving violation that occurred nearly 30 years ago -- and that was expunged after taking a driver's ed class. My record, as such, makes me an anomaly among my fellow Salvation Army clients (our official designation).
So that's a brief recap. And now, I'm going to wrap up the events that led me to become a client (or perhaps an enlistee) of the Salvation Army: After passing the interviews for the SA vocational programs, I was transferred from the homeless shelter dorms into the Vocation Building located across the driveway from the shelter. (Note that I went through many interviews with SA before being accepted. When I groused about why the process was so tedious, by cousin -- an HR bigwig -- suggested it was to see if my behavior or appearance varied from one meeting to the next. That is, did I come in wasted, drunk, smelling like a goat, etc. Turns out, my cousin was exactly right. Well done, cuz.)
So guess what happened my first day in the new digs? I went to a bare bones classroom where I had to fill out yet another pile of forms, releases, etc. I was given an ID badge and assigned a caseworker by the name of Carla. She's a tall, gull-bodied black woman with a strident voice and energetic personality. I must say I was transfixed by her rear end, which resembled a couple of soccer balls struggling to escape a tight skirt. She showed me around the facility. It's a three story building with minimal decorations save for a few pictures with a patriotic theme and many notices and bulletins plastered throughout. Across from the main lobby on the first floor is the common room which contains a large flat screen TV which has been the cause of many near-fatal disputes among clients. There's also a pool table, a foosball table, and a small 'library' consisting of books donated to SA. Clients must sign in and out at the front lobby whenever they leave the campus area and ID badges must be left there and retrieved upon return. Curfew is 8pm S-Th, midnight on F-Sat.
The first floor contains the kitchens and adjacent cafe area with several round dining tables. The cafe is open to the general public for breakfast, lunch and dinner with meals costing approximately $3. Next door to that is a large room filled with long tables which serves as the clients' eating area. This is where I take the majority of my meals at SA. Food is served cafeteria-style with trays, self-serve sections and the main food counter. To get meals, clients must present both their photo ID and a valid meal card, the color of which changes upon issuance on a weekly basis. To get the meal card, SA requires that you apply for Food Stamps (SNAP), which is actually a plastic EBT card ala a debit card. You must apply for this within 3 days of acceptance into the vocational program (informally called simply, 'the program' by staff and clients).
I applied at the Welfare located within the Catholic Charities complex. I was expecting a drawn-out, day-long experience, but such was not the case. I sat in a crowded room filling out a lot of paperwork, which in returned. I was told I would have my interview with a caseworker that very day (within an hour, actually). While waiting I noticed that many Welfare applicants got into arguments with the workers there. It seemed there was a lot of confusion and chaos applicable to both sides. (Not helping matters is that other social services have offices located within the same room, so it's very cramped.) I saw several people shouting and finally escorted away by security guards. One woman broke down in tears after being told she would have to fill out an entire new application; she filled out the previous one with information that was apparently falsified. After meeting my caseworker (a guy who looked like Beau Bridges and spoke with a drawl) he said I was approved and would have my EBT card before leaving the office. That amazed me; I was expecting it to be mailed to me within 2-3 weeks. I guess my homeless circumstance and SA connection helped expedite matters. Anyway, I walked out of the office with my very own EBT card. It took 51 years, but I finally joined all the impoverished masses subsisting on Food Stamps and suckling the Government (or should that be 'Givernment') teat. Go, me!!
Of course, I had to sign the card over to SA. Here's a bit of false advertising on their part concerning the program: While they do cover your room, board and utilities, they don't actually pay for your food. They do provide meals, but they keep your EBT card on file and charge $50 a week for meals (not bad considering it comes out to $7 a day for 3 full meals). But the cost of meals is actually being paid for by Uncle Sam, not SA. Perhaps a minor quibble but I found it a bit irritating that I had to surrender the card. However, they do return it to you whenever you leave the program (whether by your own volition or by dismissal, which is far from uncommon here).
The second floor of the vocational building contains men's and women's dorms for those in the program. (There's about a 8:1 ratio of men to women here) The third floor houses veterans and others who pay monthly rent to SA. This includes graduates of the program who have become gainfully employed and choose to stay on the campus. Grads can do that for up to 1.5 years after graduation. Not a bad way to save money as rent averages around $200-250/month and that includes utilities, laundry service, etc. My dorm room houses up to four guys, as do all rooms on the second floor. The room itself is plainly furnished with 4 single beds, nightstands and stand alone closets. Sheets and blankets are provided by SA. My room is located right by the railroad track, so it's not uncommon to hear trains rumbling by day and night. (The third floor usually houses 2 guys to a room but that varies) My roommates are Frank, Will, and Derrick.
Frank is a white guy, 48, about 5'7 with a beer gut and an outgoing personality. He works in the kitchen with me, and has an outgoing personality along with an occasionally tiresome sense of humor. He provides a lot of unintentional humor from his stories concerning is misadventures with Internet dating and chat rooms. I'll probably dedicate a whole segment to his stories. Will is a black guy in his mid-late 30s from NYC who speaks rapidly and with so much slang it's difficult for me to understand him at times. He's pretty cool although he likes to play DVDs on his laptop late at night with the sound cranked. Derrick was likely a football player at one time. He's around 6'5, app. 240 lbs, black, large-framed with a deep voice. You might say he's a man of few words as he rarely speaks. I get the sense that he's smarter than he lets on. While he can crack the occasional joke he tends to keep to himself. Fine with me; I'd rather had a roommate who was too quite than too talkative. One strike against Derrick, though: While everyone in the room snores on occasion, this guy is by far the loudest offender. The deep snoring can make the walls vibrate. Problem is, Derrick is so big that we're all afraid to complain to him.
After showing me to my room, Carla laid out my schedule: Occasional meetings with her for status updates and performance reviews. I got the schedule for Essential Employment Sessions (EES) which are classes designed to help clients reintegrate into the work force. To be blunt, EES is aimed at the many ex-cons and recovering substance abusers within the program. I'll recap some of my experiences in the class and the sometimes eccentric behavior of the instructor Jay in upcoming installments. The classes meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays for around 90 minutes each. I also got my first work assignment: The laundry, located in the basement with the maintenance department. I was told the kitchen crew was full and it would be two weeks before I could sign on there. That turned out to be true. To be honest, the laundry detail was pretty peaceful and very easy.
Washing was simply a matter of shoving however many clothes would fit into the aluminum machines. Detergent, bleach, etc. was added automatically in pre-measured doses. Industrial sized dryers had most loads done with 30 minutes. You could come and go as you pleases as long as the clothes were done. I often read books, or took off to eat. My partner was a 19-year-old black girl with a sweet disposition and a chunky body. When she told me she'd been in jail several times I didn't believe her. I would later find out that many younger girls who appeared at SA had backgrounds of criminal behavior and substance abuse. Don't know why that surprised me but it did. Anyway, after two weeks I was, as promised, transferred to the kitchen. I actually regretted leaving the simple tasks of the laundry, not to mention the solitude of the basement.
I was formally introduced to the head of the kitchen, Chef Mike. He's around 60 with a clean-shaven head that resembles the shape of the classic light bulb. He gave me my schedule and my very own uniform -- actually a white coat with black trim. It's necessary because it soon becomes splattered with various food and drink stains. After a brief tour of the kitchens I was introduced to some of my future co-workers, a few of whom will figure prominently in upcoming segments.
And you know what? That just about brings us up to date on the events that have brought us to the present. More detail will be added along the way, including more interactions with -- and observations concerning the many homeless and some of the characters I've met during my time in North Las Vegas. In that regard nothing has changed. If anything, the amount of homeless 'camps' has increased as the weather has turned colder. Hopefully, I can provide some pictures in future updates. For those who don't know, I type these columns from a public library in Las Vegas as I have no access to the Internet. Also note all these columns are written as first drafts, so you might forgive any glaring mistakes or omissions (or don't; I could frankly care less, but I like to be diplomatic). If you really want to see a polished version of these events, have some publisher throw me some bones as in $$ (I do care about that).
At any rate if I don't get a chance to post before Christmas, let me wish you and yours Happy Holidays. And remember that so many of our sacred traditions are actually based on pagan customs and heathen ceremonies once thought to evoke the devil and other malevolent entities from beyond the pale. Hope that warms the cockles of your heart!
Unassuming writer and voice actor Jim Morris had been overtaken by his archenemy Major Depressive Disorder. Despite Jim's valiant attempts to fight off the mental malefactor, he finally was overcome by the Major's power and succumbed to his hated -- and mysterious foe? Mysterious? Indeed. You see, the Major had never fully revealed himself until January of 2011. But the Major is a devious foe and carefully calculated his appearances. First as headaches and feelings of confusion experienced by Jim. Then as episodes of severe depression (yes the Major more than lived up to his name), resulting in extended crying jags, thoughts of suicide, and finally the rejection of his entire life. The Major basically caused Jim to simply stop caring about anything: Food, survival, sex, sports, movies, you name it. All the things Jim cared about -- including himself -- were flushed down the proverbial toilet.
The Major savored his victory as Jim was evicted from his apartment, lost most of his possessions, and was near penniless as he was cast onto the mean streets of Las Vegas. This looked like the end for our hero ... But wait! After spending a long night in a public park, a distant ally helped Jim with enough cash to afford a hotel room the following night. Later, Jim found his way to North Las Vegas and the Salvation Army (all recounted in this HINJFCA blog). After some night staying in the homeless shelter dorm, he was accepted into the SA vocational program with the target of working in their kitchens in order to become eligible for their culinary course co-sponsored by the State of Nevada and a local college. Well! It seemed as though things were brightening up for our hero. Or were they? He was still homeless and jobless. And now he was confronted with a whole new challenge in terms of learning about the food service business and dealing with the many volatile personalities found in SA. Will Jim survive? Can he continue his comeback against the Major and ultimately defeat his foe? And most important, will Jim ever get a PS3? These and more answers forthcoming as the HINJFCA saga continues ...
The above was written for readers who are new to this blog and may have wandered in during the middle of these events. My name is Jim Morris. I'm just a guy who has never been in trouble with the law, always played by the rules, and just happened to be afflicted with Major Depressive Disorder. That led to my becoming homeless and having to adapt to a whole new lifestyle as I try to get myself (and my life) back together as I work within the Salvation Army vocational program. This blog is officially called "Homelessness: It's Not Just For Crackheads Anymore" but I use the admittedly convoluted acronym "HINJFCA". For the record, I have never done crack. I don't drink, I don't do drugs, and I don't gamble. I've never been incarcerated, nor have I ever been arrested. My 'rap sheet' would consist of a single moving violation that occurred nearly 30 years ago -- and that was expunged after taking a driver's ed class. My record, as such, makes me an anomaly among my fellow Salvation Army clients (our official designation).
So that's a brief recap. And now, I'm going to wrap up the events that led me to become a client (or perhaps an enlistee) of the Salvation Army: After passing the interviews for the SA vocational programs, I was transferred from the homeless shelter dorms into the Vocation Building located across the driveway from the shelter. (Note that I went through many interviews with SA before being accepted. When I groused about why the process was so tedious, by cousin -- an HR bigwig -- suggested it was to see if my behavior or appearance varied from one meeting to the next. That is, did I come in wasted, drunk, smelling like a goat, etc. Turns out, my cousin was exactly right. Well done, cuz.)
So guess what happened my first day in the new digs? I went to a bare bones classroom where I had to fill out yet another pile of forms, releases, etc. I was given an ID badge and assigned a caseworker by the name of Carla. She's a tall, gull-bodied black woman with a strident voice and energetic personality. I must say I was transfixed by her rear end, which resembled a couple of soccer balls struggling to escape a tight skirt. She showed me around the facility. It's a three story building with minimal decorations save for a few pictures with a patriotic theme and many notices and bulletins plastered throughout. Across from the main lobby on the first floor is the common room which contains a large flat screen TV which has been the cause of many near-fatal disputes among clients. There's also a pool table, a foosball table, and a small 'library' consisting of books donated to SA. Clients must sign in and out at the front lobby whenever they leave the campus area and ID badges must be left there and retrieved upon return. Curfew is 8pm S-Th, midnight on F-Sat.
The first floor contains the kitchens and adjacent cafe area with several round dining tables. The cafe is open to the general public for breakfast, lunch and dinner with meals costing approximately $3. Next door to that is a large room filled with long tables which serves as the clients' eating area. This is where I take the majority of my meals at SA. Food is served cafeteria-style with trays, self-serve sections and the main food counter. To get meals, clients must present both their photo ID and a valid meal card, the color of which changes upon issuance on a weekly basis. To get the meal card, SA requires that you apply for Food Stamps (SNAP), which is actually a plastic EBT card ala a debit card. You must apply for this within 3 days of acceptance into the vocational program (informally called simply, 'the program' by staff and clients).
I applied at the Welfare located within the Catholic Charities complex. I was expecting a drawn-out, day-long experience, but such was not the case. I sat in a crowded room filling out a lot of paperwork, which in returned. I was told I would have my interview with a caseworker that very day (within an hour, actually). While waiting I noticed that many Welfare applicants got into arguments with the workers there. It seemed there was a lot of confusion and chaos applicable to both sides. (Not helping matters is that other social services have offices located within the same room, so it's very cramped.) I saw several people shouting and finally escorted away by security guards. One woman broke down in tears after being told she would have to fill out an entire new application; she filled out the previous one with information that was apparently falsified. After meeting my caseworker (a guy who looked like Beau Bridges and spoke with a drawl) he said I was approved and would have my EBT card before leaving the office. That amazed me; I was expecting it to be mailed to me within 2-3 weeks. I guess my homeless circumstance and SA connection helped expedite matters. Anyway, I walked out of the office with my very own EBT card. It took 51 years, but I finally joined all the impoverished masses subsisting on Food Stamps and suckling the Government (or should that be 'Givernment') teat. Go, me!!
Of course, I had to sign the card over to SA. Here's a bit of false advertising on their part concerning the program: While they do cover your room, board and utilities, they don't actually pay for your food. They do provide meals, but they keep your EBT card on file and charge $50 a week for meals (not bad considering it comes out to $7 a day for 3 full meals). But the cost of meals is actually being paid for by Uncle Sam, not SA. Perhaps a minor quibble but I found it a bit irritating that I had to surrender the card. However, they do return it to you whenever you leave the program (whether by your own volition or by dismissal, which is far from uncommon here).
The second floor of the vocational building contains men's and women's dorms for those in the program. (There's about a 8:1 ratio of men to women here) The third floor houses veterans and others who pay monthly rent to SA. This includes graduates of the program who have become gainfully employed and choose to stay on the campus. Grads can do that for up to 1.5 years after graduation. Not a bad way to save money as rent averages around $200-250/month and that includes utilities, laundry service, etc. My dorm room houses up to four guys, as do all rooms on the second floor. The room itself is plainly furnished with 4 single beds, nightstands and stand alone closets. Sheets and blankets are provided by SA. My room is located right by the railroad track, so it's not uncommon to hear trains rumbling by day and night. (The third floor usually houses 2 guys to a room but that varies) My roommates are Frank, Will, and Derrick.
Frank is a white guy, 48, about 5'7 with a beer gut and an outgoing personality. He works in the kitchen with me, and has an outgoing personality along with an occasionally tiresome sense of humor. He provides a lot of unintentional humor from his stories concerning is misadventures with Internet dating and chat rooms. I'll probably dedicate a whole segment to his stories. Will is a black guy in his mid-late 30s from NYC who speaks rapidly and with so much slang it's difficult for me to understand him at times. He's pretty cool although he likes to play DVDs on his laptop late at night with the sound cranked. Derrick was likely a football player at one time. He's around 6'5, app. 240 lbs, black, large-framed with a deep voice. You might say he's a man of few words as he rarely speaks. I get the sense that he's smarter than he lets on. While he can crack the occasional joke he tends to keep to himself. Fine with me; I'd rather had a roommate who was too quite than too talkative. One strike against Derrick, though: While everyone in the room snores on occasion, this guy is by far the loudest offender. The deep snoring can make the walls vibrate. Problem is, Derrick is so big that we're all afraid to complain to him.
After showing me to my room, Carla laid out my schedule: Occasional meetings with her for status updates and performance reviews. I got the schedule for Essential Employment Sessions (EES) which are classes designed to help clients reintegrate into the work force. To be blunt, EES is aimed at the many ex-cons and recovering substance abusers within the program. I'll recap some of my experiences in the class and the sometimes eccentric behavior of the instructor Jay in upcoming installments. The classes meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays for around 90 minutes each. I also got my first work assignment: The laundry, located in the basement with the maintenance department. I was told the kitchen crew was full and it would be two weeks before I could sign on there. That turned out to be true. To be honest, the laundry detail was pretty peaceful and very easy.
Washing was simply a matter of shoving however many clothes would fit into the aluminum machines. Detergent, bleach, etc. was added automatically in pre-measured doses. Industrial sized dryers had most loads done with 30 minutes. You could come and go as you pleases as long as the clothes were done. I often read books, or took off to eat. My partner was a 19-year-old black girl with a sweet disposition and a chunky body. When she told me she'd been in jail several times I didn't believe her. I would later find out that many younger girls who appeared at SA had backgrounds of criminal behavior and substance abuse. Don't know why that surprised me but it did. Anyway, after two weeks I was, as promised, transferred to the kitchen. I actually regretted leaving the simple tasks of the laundry, not to mention the solitude of the basement.
I was formally introduced to the head of the kitchen, Chef Mike. He's around 60 with a clean-shaven head that resembles the shape of the classic light bulb. He gave me my schedule and my very own uniform -- actually a white coat with black trim. It's necessary because it soon becomes splattered with various food and drink stains. After a brief tour of the kitchens I was introduced to some of my future co-workers, a few of whom will figure prominently in upcoming segments.
And you know what? That just about brings us up to date on the events that have brought us to the present. More detail will be added along the way, including more interactions with -- and observations concerning the many homeless and some of the characters I've met during my time in North Las Vegas. In that regard nothing has changed. If anything, the amount of homeless 'camps' has increased as the weather has turned colder. Hopefully, I can provide some pictures in future updates. For those who don't know, I type these columns from a public library in Las Vegas as I have no access to the Internet. Also note all these columns are written as first drafts, so you might forgive any glaring mistakes or omissions (or don't; I could frankly care less, but I like to be diplomatic). If you really want to see a polished version of these events, have some publisher throw me some bones as in $$ (I do care about that).
At any rate if I don't get a chance to post before Christmas, let me wish you and yours Happy Holidays. And remember that so many of our sacred traditions are actually based on pagan customs and heathen ceremonies once thought to evoke the devil and other malevolent entities from beyond the pale. Hope that warms the cockles of your heart!
Saturday, December 10, 2011
HINJFCA Part Eight
Okay, so where was I?
Oh yeah, wrapping up events that have led me to my present circumstances at the Salvation Army. Well, you already know that I've been assigned to the kitchens. This is in conjunction with a culinary program they sponsor with the State of Nevada and a local college. You have to gain some experience in food service before they'll interview you for entrance into the culinary program. It's evidently a big deal, as SA will pay all costs (tuition, books, uniforms, tools, etc) associated with the program while also providing transportation to and from the college. Here's the kicker: once you sign your name to the dotted line, there's no turning back. That means if you accept the offer and later change your mind, you're on the hook for the full cost of the culinary program; in addition, you get booted out of Salvation Army as well.
So it's obviously an important decision, one you can't make lightly. I'm scheduled to go in this Tuesday for a formal interview with the people who run the program. Lord knows how that will go. But some other kitchen workers who have enrolled say acceptance is pretty much a given since they're desperate to meet a quota: They need at least 15 people to enroll in order to have the program at all. So far they apparently have 6-7. I'll really have to give this some thought because I'll tell you straight out that I don't especially enjoy the work associated with the kitchen. One thing I didn't count on was the sheer weight of the items I've encountered in this work. It's not uncommon for food pans and drink coolers (filled) to weigh 50 pounds. While that weight is negligible for some of the guys who spent their days pumping iron in prison, it's a bit much for your humble narrator to bear. And you know that saying about too many cooks? Trust me, it's based on fact.
While giving you some updates on current events, let me tell you that it's been 30 days since my acceptance into the vocational program. That's an important mark because many of the clients don't make it that far -- no kidding. It's not uncommon to new new faces pop up every few days, only to have them disappear soon after. Make no mistake that while SA is a charitable organization, to are strict in their rules and swift to act when any of those rules are broken. Many clients get busted for the big infractions: Caught with drugs in their possession or failing a random drug test; also known as 'pissing dirty' or 'dropping a dirty', this is likely the most common reason clients are dismissed. Of course sheer stupidity on the part of a client is common as well: One woman decided it was a great idea to drink a 40-ouncer right in front of a video monitor. Obviously not ready for her close-up.
Once an offense is confirmed SA wastes no time in getting the offender off the premises. Even smaller offenses like failing a random room inspection can result in trouble. The other day I and my roommates were subject to such an inspection. One of the guys got a citation for leaving his bed messy (it was) and was given a citation. As a first offense, likely nothing will happen. But SA takes even the smaller details seriously, and those small infractions, if continued, can result in dismissal. I suppose SA has the right, since they're footing the bill for all this. Also, I think clients forget the fact that they stay and work with/for SA at the behest of the organization. Perhaps it's human nature but I've found that many clients and homeless people get awfully picky about the things they are given (most often free of charge). Beggars can't be choosers doesn't apply to many of these guys. There's no law that says SA (or anyone) has to provide the services they do.
On a much smaller scale, there was an incident with the flat screen TV in the common area. That being, clients fighting over the remote control in order to decide which program to watch. The shouting got so loud that it was heard by the Big Man (that being the SA Director of Operations), who later decreed a much stricter schedule for watching TV. It doesn't affect me so much because there's rarely anything on that I want to watch (aside from football). Besides, I didn't join the program to watch TV. But the Big Man right pointed out that watching TV in the common room is a privilege, not a right. Too many clients seem to forget that.
30 days is also important within the SA program because that's when the client receives their first review. Your humble narrator is proud to announce that he aced his caseworker's review by scoring 100%. No infractions, no write-ups, no conflicts, etc. While I thought that was par for the course, I was told many guys can't make it that far without some sort of confrontation. Anyway, yours truly has been a good, boring lad and so made the cut, which includes a bump-up in gratuity as well. I'm proud to tell you that based upon a 40-hour work week I'm now making app. .33-cents/hour. Take that, Bill Gates! My other review was for my job performance as rated by my kitchen boss. A bit misleading since I've only been in the kitchen two weeks or so, but 30 days is 30 days I guess. Anyway, I scored a 98 out of 100. My drawbacks were speed in preparing food and taking initiative in finding stuff to do ... or asking what to do. I'm not really sure. Listening might be a drawback, now that I think of it. Anyway, I was a good enough review. I signed off and was feeling pretty good about myself. Two good reviews in the same day. And then ... tragedy.
Well, that's a strong word. More like 'unnecessary annoyance set in'. I'll be detailing these co-workers in upcoming installments but for now let me say I like the kitchen boss. He's one of the loudest individuals I've ever met, but he's a good guy overall and really knows the food service industry. Because he oversees the entire kitchen he's not always around to train me, so that duty falls to his second in command. This is a hulking Hawaiian dude who, no surprise, is an ex-con. His backstory of dealing drugs and fighting with various gang bosses in Los Angeles sounds like a Miami Vice episode; Michael Mann would love this stuff, very crime noir. That aside, this Hawaiian dude is a good guy, but a bad supervisor. He knows his stuff in terms of food preparation, but his people skills are about as delicate as a boulder rolling downhill. In short, he has a tendency to tell me 3-4 things to do, then walk off without showing me how to do any of the tasks(!). Or he lets his emotions come to the fore and show his anger by giving off looks and vibes like he wants to run a knife through my throat.
My guess is that that kind of approach worked well in prison. But in the 'real world', I have the feeling he'd get a lot of employee complaints about his manner and approach. Then again, maybe it's me. I'm the first to admit I have a lot to learn about the culinary trade. Maybe it's just not my thing. Yet it seems my inexperience might be taken into consideration, at least to a degree. From what I can tell, most of the guys there have at least some small previous experience in the food industry. I'm supposed to know everything in two weeks time? I will say, though, that I kind of like serving food along 'the line.' That is, taking orders, putting the food together, serving the customers. I think I like it because it's fairly nonstop and I get a chance to talk with people; time seems to go by quicker when I'm in that position. Could be it's the only thing close to performing the SA kitchen provides. I actually think my sense of humor might be one of the things that keeps my situation as bearable as it is.
Anyway, the Hawaiian hulk dude and I have a few words. No strong, no shouting or anything like that. But it's the closest I've come to having an actual 'confrontation' as such. Basically he said I was too slow. He was upset because another area of the kitchen I'd been working in -- along with 3 others -- was left unmopped. My 'punishment' was to mop the whole area myself, so that it would 'never happen again'. Yeesh. There are times when I like to make smartass, offhand comments when confronted by such self-important, petty blather. I didn't this time because A) I didn't want to get squashed like a bug; and 2) I actually wanted to hear what he had to say; which as it turned out was nothing memorable. I inwardly rolled my eyes.
He said something to the effect of "You may think I'm harsh, but I'm a good guy." I said, "I do think you're a good guy. You're just not a good supervisor." Since I'm here writing these words, I didn't get squashed. More interesting, he didn't reply even though I know he heard me. Maybe his reply was in not speaking to me the rest of the day. And do you want to know something ironic? I later checked with the people I was working with and found that they had already mopped the floor hours earlier(!). It made me wonder if Mr. Hawaiian Punch wasn't making the matter personal. Funny, isn't it. A few weeks ago I was writing about trying to keep a roof over my head and stay off the streets. Now I'm writing about petty confrontations with co-workers. I wonder if I'm taking too much of my SA experience for granted? It seems to easy -- too easy -- to slip back into familiar patterns of human behavior, regardless of how serious our circumstances.
Hmm. This session is coming to a close, and I still haven't managed to wrap up some loose ends of my tale. Hang loose, my brethren. We'll certainly tie up those threads in the next installment, or my name isn't Bullwinkle J. Moose! It isn't, but so what?
Oh yeah, wrapping up events that have led me to my present circumstances at the Salvation Army. Well, you already know that I've been assigned to the kitchens. This is in conjunction with a culinary program they sponsor with the State of Nevada and a local college. You have to gain some experience in food service before they'll interview you for entrance into the culinary program. It's evidently a big deal, as SA will pay all costs (tuition, books, uniforms, tools, etc) associated with the program while also providing transportation to and from the college. Here's the kicker: once you sign your name to the dotted line, there's no turning back. That means if you accept the offer and later change your mind, you're on the hook for the full cost of the culinary program; in addition, you get booted out of Salvation Army as well.
So it's obviously an important decision, one you can't make lightly. I'm scheduled to go in this Tuesday for a formal interview with the people who run the program. Lord knows how that will go. But some other kitchen workers who have enrolled say acceptance is pretty much a given since they're desperate to meet a quota: They need at least 15 people to enroll in order to have the program at all. So far they apparently have 6-7. I'll really have to give this some thought because I'll tell you straight out that I don't especially enjoy the work associated with the kitchen. One thing I didn't count on was the sheer weight of the items I've encountered in this work. It's not uncommon for food pans and drink coolers (filled) to weigh 50 pounds. While that weight is negligible for some of the guys who spent their days pumping iron in prison, it's a bit much for your humble narrator to bear. And you know that saying about too many cooks? Trust me, it's based on fact.
While giving you some updates on current events, let me tell you that it's been 30 days since my acceptance into the vocational program. That's an important mark because many of the clients don't make it that far -- no kidding. It's not uncommon to new new faces pop up every few days, only to have them disappear soon after. Make no mistake that while SA is a charitable organization, to are strict in their rules and swift to act when any of those rules are broken. Many clients get busted for the big infractions: Caught with drugs in their possession or failing a random drug test; also known as 'pissing dirty' or 'dropping a dirty', this is likely the most common reason clients are dismissed. Of course sheer stupidity on the part of a client is common as well: One woman decided it was a great idea to drink a 40-ouncer right in front of a video monitor. Obviously not ready for her close-up.
Once an offense is confirmed SA wastes no time in getting the offender off the premises. Even smaller offenses like failing a random room inspection can result in trouble. The other day I and my roommates were subject to such an inspection. One of the guys got a citation for leaving his bed messy (it was) and was given a citation. As a first offense, likely nothing will happen. But SA takes even the smaller details seriously, and those small infractions, if continued, can result in dismissal. I suppose SA has the right, since they're footing the bill for all this. Also, I think clients forget the fact that they stay and work with/for SA at the behest of the organization. Perhaps it's human nature but I've found that many clients and homeless people get awfully picky about the things they are given (most often free of charge). Beggars can't be choosers doesn't apply to many of these guys. There's no law that says SA (or anyone) has to provide the services they do.
On a much smaller scale, there was an incident with the flat screen TV in the common area. That being, clients fighting over the remote control in order to decide which program to watch. The shouting got so loud that it was heard by the Big Man (that being the SA Director of Operations), who later decreed a much stricter schedule for watching TV. It doesn't affect me so much because there's rarely anything on that I want to watch (aside from football). Besides, I didn't join the program to watch TV. But the Big Man right pointed out that watching TV in the common room is a privilege, not a right. Too many clients seem to forget that.
30 days is also important within the SA program because that's when the client receives their first review. Your humble narrator is proud to announce that he aced his caseworker's review by scoring 100%. No infractions, no write-ups, no conflicts, etc. While I thought that was par for the course, I was told many guys can't make it that far without some sort of confrontation. Anyway, yours truly has been a good, boring lad and so made the cut, which includes a bump-up in gratuity as well. I'm proud to tell you that based upon a 40-hour work week I'm now making app. .33-cents/hour. Take that, Bill Gates! My other review was for my job performance as rated by my kitchen boss. A bit misleading since I've only been in the kitchen two weeks or so, but 30 days is 30 days I guess. Anyway, I scored a 98 out of 100. My drawbacks were speed in preparing food and taking initiative in finding stuff to do ... or asking what to do. I'm not really sure. Listening might be a drawback, now that I think of it. Anyway, I was a good enough review. I signed off and was feeling pretty good about myself. Two good reviews in the same day. And then ... tragedy.
Well, that's a strong word. More like 'unnecessary annoyance set in'. I'll be detailing these co-workers in upcoming installments but for now let me say I like the kitchen boss. He's one of the loudest individuals I've ever met, but he's a good guy overall and really knows the food service industry. Because he oversees the entire kitchen he's not always around to train me, so that duty falls to his second in command. This is a hulking Hawaiian dude who, no surprise, is an ex-con. His backstory of dealing drugs and fighting with various gang bosses in Los Angeles sounds like a Miami Vice episode; Michael Mann would love this stuff, very crime noir. That aside, this Hawaiian dude is a good guy, but a bad supervisor. He knows his stuff in terms of food preparation, but his people skills are about as delicate as a boulder rolling downhill. In short, he has a tendency to tell me 3-4 things to do, then walk off without showing me how to do any of the tasks(!). Or he lets his emotions come to the fore and show his anger by giving off looks and vibes like he wants to run a knife through my throat.
My guess is that that kind of approach worked well in prison. But in the 'real world', I have the feeling he'd get a lot of employee complaints about his manner and approach. Then again, maybe it's me. I'm the first to admit I have a lot to learn about the culinary trade. Maybe it's just not my thing. Yet it seems my inexperience might be taken into consideration, at least to a degree. From what I can tell, most of the guys there have at least some small previous experience in the food industry. I'm supposed to know everything in two weeks time? I will say, though, that I kind of like serving food along 'the line.' That is, taking orders, putting the food together, serving the customers. I think I like it because it's fairly nonstop and I get a chance to talk with people; time seems to go by quicker when I'm in that position. Could be it's the only thing close to performing the SA kitchen provides. I actually think my sense of humor might be one of the things that keeps my situation as bearable as it is.
Anyway, the Hawaiian hulk dude and I have a few words. No strong, no shouting or anything like that. But it's the closest I've come to having an actual 'confrontation' as such. Basically he said I was too slow. He was upset because another area of the kitchen I'd been working in -- along with 3 others -- was left unmopped. My 'punishment' was to mop the whole area myself, so that it would 'never happen again'. Yeesh. There are times when I like to make smartass, offhand comments when confronted by such self-important, petty blather. I didn't this time because A) I didn't want to get squashed like a bug; and 2) I actually wanted to hear what he had to say; which as it turned out was nothing memorable. I inwardly rolled my eyes.
He said something to the effect of "You may think I'm harsh, but I'm a good guy." I said, "I do think you're a good guy. You're just not a good supervisor." Since I'm here writing these words, I didn't get squashed. More interesting, he didn't reply even though I know he heard me. Maybe his reply was in not speaking to me the rest of the day. And do you want to know something ironic? I later checked with the people I was working with and found that they had already mopped the floor hours earlier(!). It made me wonder if Mr. Hawaiian Punch wasn't making the matter personal. Funny, isn't it. A few weeks ago I was writing about trying to keep a roof over my head and stay off the streets. Now I'm writing about petty confrontations with co-workers. I wonder if I'm taking too much of my SA experience for granted? It seems to easy -- too easy -- to slip back into familiar patterns of human behavior, regardless of how serious our circumstances.
Hmm. This session is coming to a close, and I still haven't managed to wrap up some loose ends of my tale. Hang loose, my brethren. We'll certainly tie up those threads in the next installment, or my name isn't Bullwinkle J. Moose! It isn't, but so what?
Saturday, December 3, 2011
HINJFCA: Coming Attractions!
Another one of my truncated posts due to time constraints at the library. Just wanted to touch on a couple of items in brief. I know the language in this blog (and the subject matter) can get a bit dicey for some tastes. Some people might even be offended by the material. While I'm not trying to repel readers or gross anyone out, I do try to present the situations I've experienced in as true a fashion as possible. That means I try to reproduce the language used in such situations as well. Of course, this includes profanity. As it happens, I'm not the biggest fan of profanity. I try to use it as minimally as possible when I'm in public because I don't want to present myself as some common, foul-mouthed street miscreant.
In my experience those people who curse constantly tend to be the most ignorant people. But since many of the characters I've encountered during my homeless sojourn have little if any education, and because their life experience has largely been on the streets, they express themselves with profanities. Hence, that's how I depict them when representing them in this blog. So if you see things like f**k, or motherf***er popping up fairly frequently, I'm just trying to delineate the person for you, not get my jollies by stringing together every obscenity I can think of. After all, I can hardly have these guys sounding like Harvard professors or elite literati.
I'm actually sorry to see profanity used so often -- and this cuts through all classes. I think the country (and the world) has become a much coarser and vulgar place because of the prevalence of profanity. As a writer I hate seeing this happen because profanity loses its capacity for shock value. The f-word and permutations thereof used to be strictly verboten; now it's everywhere, uttered causally by anyone from 7 top 70 years of age. I'll put myself to the task of inventing new curse words that will cause your ears to spontaneously combust from outrage. And you're welcome.
As for what I've been up to? Well, more of the same at Salvation Army. I told you last time that I was accepted into their vocational program; it's now been approximately a month since I started. I'll finish up the backstory and some of the tasks I've been involved with in the next installment. For now, think of this as my blog's version of a coming attractions trailer:
In the next few installments of "Homelessness It's Not Just For Crackheads Anymore:"
THRILL to the new characters your humble narrator encounters. You'll never forget the nameless, bug-eyed Junkie With No Name who battles for supremacy of the TV in the common room! Or how about the Big Guy Everyone is Scared Of because he sits in the corner and constantly talks to himself?
MARVEL at the ex-meth addict and drug dealer who transformed himself into a beatific, Yoda-like sage who dispenses wisdom while pushing a mop! He'll make you believe illegal drugs are good for you!
YOU WON'T BELIEVE the lead cook in the kitchen who bellows orders in a voice so loud he can be heard across Nevada into Arizona and beyond!
OGLE the sultry sirens your humble narrator meets while traveling through the wilds of the Salvation Army campus. Will these lethal lovely ladies seduce your narrator with their womanly wiles?
SEE the various characters of the Salvation Army as they struggle to stay awake during class after class of nerve-wracking methods on how to reintegrate themselves into society -- you fell asleep right then, didn't you?
STAY TUNED! In the coming installments you'll have a first hand glimpse into the petty annoyances of communal living! See if your humble narrator can fend off the malevolent microbes expelled by his fellow dorm inhabitants! Find out if your narrator can weather the senses-shattering racket of grown men snoring like bull elephants on the rampage! Will he have the fortitude to withstand the rotten-egg stench of intestinal gas that pervades the dorm room on a constant basis? And can you predict the mind-numbing secret your narrator uncovers while innocently pilfering a banana from the SA kitchens? Neither can he -- that's because he hasn't written it yet!
All this and more will be revealed as your humble narrator continues his journey through the netherworld of ex-cons, shell-shocked veterans, recovering booze, drug and alcohol addicts, and oh yeah -- the hordes of homeless looking to score free stuff!
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! Believe it or not, everyone your humble narrator has met during his Salvation Army tour IS ON MEDICATION! EVERYONE! Including your humble narrator!
So there you go. Stay with me as we travel down this dark road together, and slowly make it to the other side. Remember, it's only a thin membrane that separates the fortunate from the unfortunate. And if you believe that, I have some old Enron stock to sell you!
In my experience those people who curse constantly tend to be the most ignorant people. But since many of the characters I've encountered during my homeless sojourn have little if any education, and because their life experience has largely been on the streets, they express themselves with profanities. Hence, that's how I depict them when representing them in this blog. So if you see things like f**k, or motherf***er popping up fairly frequently, I'm just trying to delineate the person for you, not get my jollies by stringing together every obscenity I can think of. After all, I can hardly have these guys sounding like Harvard professors or elite literati.
I'm actually sorry to see profanity used so often -- and this cuts through all classes. I think the country (and the world) has become a much coarser and vulgar place because of the prevalence of profanity. As a writer I hate seeing this happen because profanity loses its capacity for shock value. The f-word and permutations thereof used to be strictly verboten; now it's everywhere, uttered causally by anyone from 7 top 70 years of age. I'll put myself to the task of inventing new curse words that will cause your ears to spontaneously combust from outrage. And you're welcome.
As for what I've been up to? Well, more of the same at Salvation Army. I told you last time that I was accepted into their vocational program; it's now been approximately a month since I started. I'll finish up the backstory and some of the tasks I've been involved with in the next installment. For now, think of this as my blog's version of a coming attractions trailer:
In the next few installments of "Homelessness It's Not Just For Crackheads Anymore:"
THRILL to the new characters your humble narrator encounters. You'll never forget the nameless, bug-eyed Junkie With No Name who battles for supremacy of the TV in the common room! Or how about the Big Guy Everyone is Scared Of because he sits in the corner and constantly talks to himself?
MARVEL at the ex-meth addict and drug dealer who transformed himself into a beatific, Yoda-like sage who dispenses wisdom while pushing a mop! He'll make you believe illegal drugs are good for you!
YOU WON'T BELIEVE the lead cook in the kitchen who bellows orders in a voice so loud he can be heard across Nevada into Arizona and beyond!
OGLE the sultry sirens your humble narrator meets while traveling through the wilds of the Salvation Army campus. Will these lethal lovely ladies seduce your narrator with their womanly wiles?
SEE the various characters of the Salvation Army as they struggle to stay awake during class after class of nerve-wracking methods on how to reintegrate themselves into society -- you fell asleep right then, didn't you?
STAY TUNED! In the coming installments you'll have a first hand glimpse into the petty annoyances of communal living! See if your humble narrator can fend off the malevolent microbes expelled by his fellow dorm inhabitants! Find out if your narrator can weather the senses-shattering racket of grown men snoring like bull elephants on the rampage! Will he have the fortitude to withstand the rotten-egg stench of intestinal gas that pervades the dorm room on a constant basis? And can you predict the mind-numbing secret your narrator uncovers while innocently pilfering a banana from the SA kitchens? Neither can he -- that's because he hasn't written it yet!
All this and more will be revealed as your humble narrator continues his journey through the netherworld of ex-cons, shell-shocked veterans, recovering booze, drug and alcohol addicts, and oh yeah -- the hordes of homeless looking to score free stuff!
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! Believe it or not, everyone your humble narrator has met during his Salvation Army tour IS ON MEDICATION! EVERYONE! Including your humble narrator!
So there you go. Stay with me as we travel down this dark road together, and slowly make it to the other side. Remember, it's only a thin membrane that separates the fortunate from the unfortunate. And if you believe that, I have some old Enron stock to sell you!
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