a cruel frugality

As the lunch rush cavorted from course to course, a wiry busboy made his way to the back and clunked another tray of sullied dishes onto the rinse rack. Henry, the dishwasher, pulled his hand like a fish from the sink and plucked a solitary meatball from a plate smeared with bleu cheese and tepid marinara … and popped it into his mouth.

Henry, along with his colleagues the busboys and food prep crew, cannot afford even his most elementary necessities. At 48 he earns $9 per hour and is scheduled to work no more than 27.5 hours per week. Not only does this arrangement preclude him from receiving employee benefits, but after rent and utilities, he has little money left for food.

In order to survive, Henry and his colleagues buy only enough food for one meal daily. They typically skip breakfast entirely, and for lunch depend on the scraps from the dishes of the restaurant’s patrons, which of course, is strictly prohibited by restaurant policy. 

“Enrique!” It was the manager who like an angry dog had followed the busboy into the back of the restaurant. Enrique snapped to attention next to the tray of dishes he had just set down at the washing station. “Where is that meatball?” The blood vessels began to bulge from the manager’s neck and forehead as he ransacked the piles of dirty dishes in search of the meatball that Henry, with his back to the drama, tried quickly to grind down to swallowing size.

The busboy pleaded his innocence in broken English, but the manager wanted proof. “Get in there,” he growled, laboring for breath and pointing to the 30 gallon garbage can filled with two hour’s worth of waste, “Get in there and find it!” At that point Henry gulped, turned, and confessed his crime.

In retrospect, Henry won the confrontation due to the element of surprise. The manager glared at Henry, then noisily tromped away amidst the fog of his false accusation. Henry kept his job, but feels that he long ago lost his dignity.

  

I spoke with Henry earlier this week. It was 9:00PM, and because it was his day off, he had not eaten. “I’m just trying to be frugal,” he said. "But I don't know if I'm going to make it."

the nature of change

Last Wednesday morning, with the first of the brisk fall weather having just arrived, I was walking through downtown on my way to Sacred Heart. Summer was over, and with the onset of gray skies I couldn’t help but reflect on the changes we had seen over the previous year.

Twelve months ago we were worried because unemployment in Santa Clara County had climbed beyond 6%; we have now passed 12%. Last fall we agonized over the fact that while 7000 people are homeless each night, the largest homeless shelter in the county had only 250 beds; starting this month, this same shelter will only provide 125 beds; since last spring the number of people coming to us for emergency food, clothing, and housing assistance has risen by nearly 50%.

Making my way down First Street, I passed beneath the 280 overpass, numbers and grim statistics swirling in my head, and as I did, I ran into Ian, someone I hadn’t seen in years.

I had worked as Ian’s case manager back when he was in his teens and struggling to survive homelessness. He was a bright and resilient adolescent, and I had watched him succeed in establishing a fruitful—if not tenuous—life beyond the street, getting a full-time job and his own apartment. The last time I saw him he was continuing in this trajectory, registering for classes at San Jose City College. But this past Wednesday, amidst the din of the morning traffic, I learned that everything had changed.

After our initial pleasantries, Ian’s voice altered, and he lowered his head. He had always been fairly reserved, even serious. He began abruptly: “I had to leave my apartment about a year ago when my hours got cut.” He spoke hesitantly at first, but soon the words came tumbling out. He talked about his relationship with his mother, how she was struggling, and how he worried about his younger sister who was faring poorly in school. He was anxious about his girlfriend, who shared his fate, and every attempt to improve their conditions seemed doomed from the start.

We spoke for about twenty minutes, dead leaves scratching the cement between us as he caught up to his present circumstances: “I’ve been renting this tiny room for $200 a month, but I haven’t worked since June. Tomorrow (October 1^st) I have to move out, and I have no place to go.” And then something happened. Sitting on his bike in the middle of the sidewalk, this intelligent, hard-working young man melted into a torrent of tears.

The pain and brokenness that we see each day in our community shows no sign of abating. Although there are indications that the economy may be heading toward recovery, the splintered lives it has left in its wake will struggle for some time to regain their sense of fullness. In response to this stark reality, Sacred Heart has taken a leadership role in, among other areas, the stewardship of Federal Stimulus dollars.

The mandated focus of these funds is on emergency support for those hit hardest by the recession and on creating and sustaining employment opportunities. I want to share with you some of the changes we have been able to make with these additional resources.

In terms of emergency support, we have been able to fortify our grocery portions, buying and distributing additional staples such as eggs and tortillas. We have also begun providing our customers with “stimulus boxes”, large, supplemental portions of our traditional fare, including more fresh produce, frozen chicken, and milk.

In addition to addressing the added nutritional needs of the community, we have strengthened our housing assistance. In the past we have been able to help people facing eviction by paying up to $800 to their landlord on a one-time-only basis. Now, in certain cases, we are able to help individuals and families maintain their housing over a longer period. What’s more, we are able to help people qualify for this help who would have previously been ineligible because they did not meet a minimum income level.

But beyond this critical emergency service, we are also creating and supporting employment. We have bought work shirts, pants, boots and other employment necessities for those who have obtained jobs but lack the resources necessary to equip themselves for their first few weeks on the job.

We have implemented an expungement program for individuals who have misdemeanors on their records, but have already paid their debt to society and are working toward productive citizenship. Through this program, those who qualify can get a clean start and have a far better chance of positively reintegrating into the community.

We have also built a remarkable new program that actually creates employment: Teamworks. This is a residential cleaning co-op that not only provides sustainable work, but also completely alters the nature of the traditional corporate power dynamic. In the co-op, the workers are also the managers and owners of the enterprise. At present there are two residential cleaning teams, and we are now looking into building a landscaping team. Through this program we are incubating the individual enterprises while at the same time encouraging entrepreneurship and the empowerment of traditionally disempowered people groups, such as women and minority groups.

Looking back over the events of the past year—the economic implosion, the response by Sacred Heart, the pain of individuals like Ian—it has clearly been a season of change, both within our community and across the nation. Forces of both fragmentation and unity have been at work, altering the fabric of our shared existence. Our collective action, now and over the coming months, will determine whether the greater part of this change will have been for the common good. History will be the judge.