DC is an expensive town, but not everyone gets paid like that's the case. It's 4:53 AM and I just took a gander at the classifieds--virtually of course. If you don't have computer access, you're already three steps behind. The listing that caught my eye is like many. Five years of experience required. The prospective work week would be forty hours. Quick book knowledge is highly desired. The salary is merely $10-$12 per hour. Imagine running the whole office, as an administrative secretary, for that kind of money, and with that amount of experience. To me, it's no wonder that households are falling a part, and people can't pay rent or mortgages, when I consider that this town offers a mixed bag of opportunity. No, ten dollars isn't deemed to be minimum wage, but even the most frugal among us would have to do a bit of creative financing to swing that one. Please keep in mind that many individuals would classify the aforementioned job as professional. Creative financing may involve bunking with family members or friends, at least for starters. I could go off on a tangent in that regard, but I won't.
What I will say is the boom of temporary jobs, contracts, and non-profit pay even in for profit businesses can lead to more people finding themselves in need of basic necessities. DC is a Tale of Two Cities personified. Some live rather well here, while others sit on the opposite end of the spectrum. This town attracts people from around the globe, and every state. Employment is often the attraction, unless one's bargaining power isn't as high. It would be ideal if everyone could at least earn a living wage, regardless of profession. Should an individual have to be a top sales rep, a high profile executive, or someone with good connections to have job stability, and earn a living wage? Parking costs alone can set anyone who doesn't make much back in DC. Add the cost of getting around town via the metro, and it's easy to see that a great percentage of someone's pay check who isn't truly making a living wage will be spent on getting back and forth to work. To this end, support for the working poor is critical. Visions of homelessness are often jaded by stereotypes that aren't laced in reality. There are those who hold signs and panhandle because it's a quick means to and end, but there are plenty more individuals who don't gather "help-wanted" signs in the public's eye. These individuals often post ads in free sections on the web, anonymously telling their hand luck stories of lay offs, pending disability claims, and foreclosures. Some individuals don't qualify for specific programs, under the rules where they reside. At the same time, it takes a bit of digging and pride lowering to pay a visit to one of the wonderful non profits which may be able to help with something as simple as a bag of food. Many of us make it because of grace, not merely hard work. Without a strong network of family and friends, many others could face a sobering reality. How many paychecks could the average person here be from homelessness? Who really has an iron clad plan, if unemployment ran out, and a pink slip was delivered? Perhaps a few, but not the majority, I venture to guess. Take away the nightlife, tour buses, and fancy restaurants, and what could anyone see here? People in transition or on the brink of it, perhaps? Some wear slacks or blouses, while others don't. Different attire may be present, but the circumstances are nearly the same. You never know who you're looking at these days. A homeless person could have a strategic profile, blending in so that boss won't know, but then again, he or she may have a limited privacy policy.
I was promoting CVM at a local resource and job fair and encountered someone who wasn't wearing a mask. Her profile wasn't difficult to determine. Approaching a small, crowded elevator, she appeared. I didn't know how to approach her, but I eased into the subject. "Excuse me, did you attend the job fair?" I asked. "I missed it. My Smart Trip Card got demagnetized. I was late leaving, because I was trying to take a computer class. I finally get here, and I missed everything," she told me. "I have something you may want to know about. Do you need a free voice mail number?" I asked. "I need everything. I'm homeless," she shared.
With those words spoken, we rode the elevator together. I observed her mixed gray hair, neatly styled in two braids on the side of her head. Her face told a story of hardship, but also of valor. One of her fingers was partially missing. I wondered how that happened, but I didn't dare ask. I discussed the program with her, explaining that other agencies also help people like her with other needs. I suggested case management, and whipped out a list that I'd compiled. I pointed out a few that I felt drawn to from what she'd explained. After that, I scribbled my email address and asked her to please let me know if she wasn't able to get the help she needed. "God bless you," she told me. "God bless you, too," I told her. "You're going to make it," I remarked. An air of determination swirled around her as she walked away. I stood on the sidewalk staring toward the direction where we parted. This morning, I'm looking at a piece of paper with her name, email address, and two other things that stood out. "Homeless! Age 55." I didn't notice that she'd supplied her age before. This morning was the first time. As policy is being discussed, the need for reform has grown by leaps and bounds. In the meantime, life goes on for all parties involved who are merely struggling to survive on minimum wage, or who don't even realize that they comprise the working poor. I see hope within countless non-profit agencies that help to fill in the gap. They are not a means to an end, but a starting point for those who are officially stuck and need help. When a person truly begins to understand life, there is no room to judge anyone's circumstances. Our circumstances don't define who we are. They never have and never will, but more people should stop to digest this fact.
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