There was
plenty of parking out front, so I entered by way of Gatekeeper's desk today.
For those of you who remember Brenda (health food nut/took over my prep table
nuisance), she is now the night-shift
gatekeeper. One of the residents let me in, and Brenda never looked up. Passing
down the long hall toward the dining room, I was shocked at the hoards of
rolling dust bunnies. Dean was so obviously not having time to be a full-time
custodian and a half-time cook.
He was
rushing through some dinner prep when I arrived. In fact, he rushed through
everything. Several times, he left me alone to mind the deep fryer, and I
noticed when I left that the floors had been swept. Poor man.
We were
going to serve onion rings and corn dogs, but the fryer stopped working every
time we dropped a basket of (frozen) corn dogs. Apparently, those need to be
thawed before deep frying. We did cook onion rings, and Dean found some fresh
chicken salad, so lunch was good.
The little
girls were in attendance, and were again surprised with their Beanies and
candies. I marvel at how well adjusted they are. Their mom is quiet and kind,
but I can see the weary on her face.
We've an
older man among our homeless—white hair, suspenders, a painful gait—where does
he go from here?
When
Brenda's shift ended, last week's new fellow took over—Lanyard Guy. He came to the
kitchen and we exchanged pleasantries. Seems like a hard job, but those who
assume it appear to ride easy, even if they don't last long in the saddle.
As the
second group cleared out, Lanyard Guy came to ask us if we could feed one more.
"There's a man out there who says he hasn't eaten all day."
Dean said
to just send the man back to the dining room. I was looking for some poor,
ragged street dweller, and was surprised when a very young man strode in with a
large backpack.
"I'm
on spring break," he said. "My parents threw me out."
So that
wrapped up lunch. Dean and I used the very last two clean aprons. The kitchen
floor hasn't been swept in awhile. I did clean the awfully nasty wonderful can
opener. It had never been cleaned…
The
scuttlebutt is no longer so vague. Miss Lillian has turned in her resignation.
No one has been found to replace her, but one person has applied. Dean gave up
his second job to fill in when Joey left, and now he won't be able to get that
back. He would like to have a place in the kitchen, but they told him he'd need
a diploma… The shelter offered to help him get one, but the person in charge of prisoners said they still would not allow him to work in the kitchen. We've no idea why
or how he is "allowed" to do that now.
Mr. Huggy is not a paid employee, but
he is working often in the kitchen, in spite of his nasty personal habits.
I stood at
the hand-washing sink this morning, looking out the little window into a cold
rain. Joey was like a pin that held up a bridge; the whole thing has crumbled.
I can't see past the rain.
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