
SchizoGymnast
Experienced
- May 28, 2024
- 241
To start: I love my job. It's fun and stimulating and I meet amazing people. I get to help change lives, and my life has been changed as well. We have bomb ass parties, it pays well, and I plan to stay for a long time. I could tell plenty of funny, successful, heartwarming stories about this place.
With that said, I've had a pretty craptastic couple weeks and very few people in my circle understand the kind of work I do. So I wanted to vent.
My job might kill me. Quite literally.
I work in a homeless shelter where there are no bag searches so you know there are weapons and where people use hard drugs out in the open. I walk down the sidewalk in the winter, I have to check to see if the people lying there are still alive. I have to give Narcan on the regular. Recently a man threatened to cut another resident's head off and eventually ended up stabbing someone else. Police know us all by name. Last week, a client assaulted staff and destroyed my food and medication. To some clients, the only name I answer to is, "Retard." If you've ever worked with wealthy clients, you know what entitled Karen behavior looks like, but *some* homeless take it to a whole other level. They will dump food on the floor and demand you clean it up. There is, of course, graffiti on the walls and poop everywhere.
Dirty needles everywhere. And then there are the fights. Constant fights, like in prison. Someone's hogging the microwave, someone ate all the ramen, someone stole my toothbrush.
Then there is a surprising lack of common sense for people who live on the streets. One time, a man wanted to press charges because someone stole his ID and debit cards. Apparently he left them on the sidewalk outside the shelter. He didn't bring them IN the shelter and...you know...lock them up, or keep them on his person. He left it on the damn street and is legit mystified that someone stole it.
And once in a while, I have clients who insist on filing police reports for...stolen drugs. Illicit drugs. They're admitting to law enforcement that they are in possession of controlled substances and...expecting cops to...give them back the illegal drugs. The best part is when they try to do this while on parole or probation. Do you know how much willpower it takes for me to not laugh at this? I do it. I'm a professional but you can't make this up, man.
Now, I want to hear YOUR funny/wacky/scary workplace horror stories! And go!
With that said, I've had a pretty craptastic couple weeks and very few people in my circle understand the kind of work I do. So I wanted to vent.
My job might kill me. Quite literally.
I work in a homeless shelter where there are no bag searches so you know there are weapons and where people use hard drugs out in the open. I walk down the sidewalk in the winter, I have to check to see if the people lying there are still alive. I have to give Narcan on the regular. Recently a man threatened to cut another resident's head off and eventually ended up stabbing someone else. Police know us all by name. Last week, a client assaulted staff and destroyed my food and medication. To some clients, the only name I answer to is, "Retard." If you've ever worked with wealthy clients, you know what entitled Karen behavior looks like, but *some* homeless take it to a whole other level. They will dump food on the floor and demand you clean it up. There is, of course, graffiti on the walls and poop everywhere.
Dirty needles everywhere. And then there are the fights. Constant fights, like in prison. Someone's hogging the microwave, someone ate all the ramen, someone stole my toothbrush.
Then there is a surprising lack of common sense for people who live on the streets. One time, a man wanted to press charges because someone stole his ID and debit cards. Apparently he left them on the sidewalk outside the shelter. He didn't bring them IN the shelter and...you know...lock them up, or keep them on his person. He left it on the damn street and is legit mystified that someone stole it.
And once in a while, I have clients who insist on filing police reports for...stolen drugs. Illicit drugs. They're admitting to law enforcement that they are in possession of controlled substances and...expecting cops to...give them back the illegal drugs. The best part is when they try to do this while on parole or probation. Do you know how much willpower it takes for me to not laugh at this? I do it. I'm a professional but you can't make this up, man.
Now, I want to hear YOUR funny/wacky/scary workplace horror stories! And go!