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Tcahr Issue 42
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"To aid in the incubation, breeding, and release of butterflies in Asia."
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Iss. 42 Sheltered Nights
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January 19th, 2003, I was faced with the event which Id been expecting since I
became an overnight supervisor at the homeless shelter six months ago. A
client with a history of arrest, violence and drug use had spent the night
intimidating other clients, volunteers and staff members. As I was aware of
his mental instability and the little chance of finding another shelter late on
a cold Chicago winter night, I had balked at having him ejected from the
premises. I, however, felt that I couldnt allow him to jeopardize the safety
and comfort of the other 64 clients. I ordered security to tell him to leave.
The client didnt take it too well; he rushed toward me while ripping off his
jacket and threatening to kill me.
The large, muscular client took advantage of the security guards hesitance and
inexperience. Instead of restraining the furious client, the guard stepped
aside and allowed the client to stomp past him and toward me. I had little
time to prepare as he popped a fast left hook into the side of my neck and then
stepped back into position for another punch. Being versed in martial arts, I
capitalized on his mistake with a hard right cross into his angry mouth. I
used his backward momentum to tackle him into the nearest wall, and then
followed with a slam onto a table. The security guard finally woke from his
coma and helped me to remove him for the shelter. The client vowed the usual
death threats of murder, gang retaliation and lawsuits.
I considered myself the victim of the attack, so I was quite surprised by my
further victimization by the shelters executive director. Betraying a lack of
practical logic, she opted to follow a blanket shelter policy that prohibits
employees for protecting themselves by anything more than covering up in all
cases. By throwing a punch in self-defense and then restraining my attacker
as the security guard and other clients stood by doing nothing, I was rewarded
with a weeks suspension without pay. I also received three months probation
during which I would receive no references if I attempted to become employed
anywhere else.
I spent the following week bitterly assessing the role our homeless shelter
plays in protecting parasites and criminals. When I tell people that I work at
a homeless shelter, they usually respond by with words to the effect of it
being a selfless, humanitarian and noble career. There is nothing I despise
more than those comments as they remind me of my own naïve mindset when I
started this job. Inversely, I enjoy sharing my venom with those who dont
know the inner world of homeless shelters or its effects on people and
neighborhoods.
Though my job begins at 8:00 p.m., I have to mentally psych myself out much
earlier. At about 5:30 p.m., an hour before Im expected to pick-up the list
of the nights clients at the homeless shelter, my body undergoes what has
become ritual in order to prepare myself for the night. I pace a circle of
nervous energy on the cluttered floor of my tiny studio apartment. Every few
laps the bile in my system becomes too much and I fill the apartment with
gagging sounds. I grind my teeth to stop the attack, wipe the spittle from my
lips with my sleeve and begin to pace the familiar circle once again. At 6:15,
I pull on my flight jacket and lace my steel-toed jackboots tight. I give the
books, the espresso machine and my eternally unfinished painting a resigned
look. After locking up my apartment, I walk through Uptown towards the
$16,000 a year job that supports my humble existence wondering if Ill live
through the night.
I somewhat enjoy my walks to work. While walking through the neighborhood I
take stock of the beautiful architecture of decades past. The stately Uptown
Theater on Broadway and Lawrence, however, has become my cue to be on guard.
After Broadway, where the shelters, human service centers and food depositories
are centralized, the mood of both the neighborhood and myself change. Gangs
sometimes patrol the neighborhood en masse. During the summer, drunks sitting
outside the train station yell abuse and challenges at the commuters. I have
more personal reasons to be careful on my travels. It is not unusual for staff
members to be stopped by angry clients here. It is for reasons like this that
I walk through Uptown looking behind my back while trying not to indulge in the
luxury of putting my hands into my pockets.
I arrive at the nighttime office at about 6:30. Before going into the building
I take a look at the clients sitting on the bench and sniff the air for signs
of alcohol or marijuana. Our shelters allow anyone who signs up for the night
to stay with no checking into their background. Even clients who have shown a
history of violence and crime during their stay at the shelter can be
re-admitted against the advice of the shelter supervisors by the administrative
supervisors. Because of this, our client list tends to reflect a large number
of current and former gang members, drug addicts, dealers and low-level pimps.
Occasionally we find that a client that has been gone for a few days is a child
molester or rapist on the run from the law; the sight of children playing in
the gated yard next to the office building sickens me.
Client intake begins at 8:30. One of the complaints Ive made to the shelter
director in the past is the lack of experience of the security staff combined
with the unrealistic policies of the board of directors. While weapons, drugs,
and alcohol are not allowed in the shelter, we are not allowed to do a proper
search of the clients possessions. In our searching procedures, we may ask
the clients open their bags, but cannot put our hands inside them to check for
contraband. Instead, we can only run our hands on the outside of the bags in
the futile hope to feel out weapons that may be wrapped in a bundle of old
clothes. On one occasion, a client was able to sneak in a six-inch butcher
knife by putting it in his back pocket and using his jacket to cover it up.
Last summer, one of the supervisors had his hand slashed open by a client
welding a box cutter.
The security guard checks out at 10:30, while I check out at 8 in the morning.
Though our search for contraband of clients with questionable backgrounds is
inefficient and I am restrained from defending myself, I am expected to watch,
guard and discipline the clients alone. The only option that an overnight
supervisor can use is ejection from the shelter. The clients know that that
this threat is only marginally effective. Clients knowledgeable of the rules
will run amuck in the shelter until the police are called. This, along with
the shelter policy of not allowing police officers in to search for suspected
criminals, and the shelters reputation for not pressing charges, have caused
cops on the beat to hesitate or even ignore responding to calls originating
from us. By the time the police arrive, the troublemakers have left and the
shelter supervisor must deal with the police officers ire.
11:00 p.m. is when the lights are turned off for the night. I spend most of
the time between security rounds of the sleeping area in the kitchen. It is
during these times that one of the mentally challenged clients will take
advantage of my absence by smearing feces on the wall or urinating in the sink
of the bathroom. Next to the criminal element, the mentally challenged are
the largest population residing in my shelter. The reason for this is that our
organization runs two shelters. The bigoted supervisors of the other shelter
have an agenda that the shelter director has chosen to ignore. Along with
sending us the most violent residents, they have chosen to bar all clients
considered undesirablethe mentally handicapped and known homosexualsfrom
their shelter to ours.
Neither of the shelters is well equipped to take care of a client with
psychological issues. One case in particular centered around a client who
would spend the night roaming the shelter, plugging up the toilet and talking
loudly to himself. We brought up our inability to deal with this client at our
Friday staff meetings where the director routinely ignored us. All this
changed the night the Department of Human Services arrived to interview the
clients. The first client in the shelter that night was the mentally
challenged client in question. The DHS interviewers were in the shelter for
less than ten minutes as the clients loud angry cursing and punching of the
furniture frightened them. That night the executive director and shelter
director barred the emotionally unstable client from both shelters.
In the morning I am responsible for making sure that the shelter, which is
situated in a church gym, is cleaned for the kids who will be studying and
playing there during the day. Before clean up I am expected to serve breakfast
to the 20 to 30 clients who wait to eat before they leave. As soon as they eat,
they walk out and leave the cleaning to three or four clients who volunteer to
stay. These 30 odd clients tend to be those who are milking the lenient
shelter system. Staying true to the lazy homeless stereotype, they hang out
all day at the local McDonalds, Burger King and library until one of the
churches serving as a food depository opens up to give away free dinners.
These clients could assure themselves of a guaranteed bed at the shelter all
month by going to daily meetings in the administrative offices, but refuse to
do so. I guess its too much like work.
The hedonistic and self-destructive aspects of these particular clients are
most visible on Buckwheat Days. Buckwheat days are the nickname the shelter
supervisors have given to the two or three days following the first of the
month. Most nights I have to turn people away from the shelter; at the
beginning of the month Im shocked if I intake more than 30 clients. On the
first of the month, the clients on welfare have money wired into their LINK
card accounts. The next few days will be spent in an orgy of drugs, alcohol
and sex, only to have them return after their money is gone.
There is so much that could be changed within the shelter system. The shelters
of Uptown could demand that in order to receive bed space, clients must attend
self-help classes during the day or prove that they are actively pursuing work.
Those suffering from drug addiction should be made to work on overcoming their
addictions. Clients with psychological problem should be referred to agencies
that could help them instead of simply allowing them to exist in a chaotic
state that eventually punishes them when they run afoul of the rules. By not
implementing programs to help the homeless help themselves, the homeless are
not being served.
Some changes could also make the shelters safer. Those clients who are violent
repeat offenders of the law should be purged from the system instead of
allowing them to turn Uptown into a home base of criminal activity. The drug
dealers residing in the shelters should be removed so that they wont further
ruin the lives of the addicts. Instead of treating the police as the enemy, we
should work with them. In order to retain quality employees, the safety of
supervisors should not come at the expense of bureaucratic liberal idealism.
Security guards should be paid to guard the shelter at least until after
lights out. The background of supervisors should be checked before being
hired and then be routinely monitored less they allow their prejudices to
punish those they are assigned to help.
I realize that my last suggestion would result in me being fired. I returned
to work after my suspension full of hatred against for the clients. Being an
overnight supervisor has changed me into a bigot more concerned with my
paycheck than the homeless. As I contribute to the erosion of Uptown by
working for a system I find immoral, I am reminded of the actions of Vlad Tepes
in the 1500s. Vlad Tepes, King of Wallachia, invited all the beggars in his
land to a sumptuous feast in a large hall. After they greedily ate themselves
into a stupor, he barred the doors and posted guards outside the hall. He then
lit the building on fire and watched it burn to the ground. Six months ago I
found this story horrifying, but now I understand it more than I ever wished
to. Id settle, however, for all the shelters in Uptown closing down.
--The Tcahrian
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/ _______________________________________________________________ \
| / \ |
|| TCAHR is the invention of Juan M. Diaz (a.k.a. The Tcharian). ||
|| TCAHR is his self-created delusion and prone to the mental ||
|| aberrations and valiences that are part of Juan M. Diaz's ||
|| psyche. These aberrations and valiences include depression, ||
|| meglomania, Nietzschism, Objectivism, anti-social and ||
|| borderline personality disorders, Machiavellism and ||
|| conservative right-wing thinking. ||
|| ||
|| TCAHR welcomes all comments. All comments will be read, then ||
|| used to glorify TCAHR, The Tcahrian and all TCAHR-related ||
|| entities. This will be accomplished by editing both your ||
|| praise and scorn in order to show off TCAHR in the best ||
|| possible aspect. ||
|| ||
|| In other words, TCAHR is not a democracy. It's my psychotic ||
|| episode. Any offense you feel belongs entirely to you. ||
| \_______________________________________________________________/ |
\_________________________________________________________________/
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The Committee Against Human Rights -- http://www.tcahr.net
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tcahr@hotmail.com Copyright 2003
