The end of the month is always rough. Today I gave away approximately $990 worth of groceries and grocery-store certificates to 14 families. What we give out is designed to last three days, after which there's another 87 days before they're eligible to come back for food from us. I've been meaning to test out our 3-day design, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. I would like to try to make just the items we give out in a food pantry last my household three days. Here's the list for a household of 1 or 2 people. I challange you to try it:

1 jar of peanut butter
1 jar of jelly (if available)
1 box of cereal or oatmeal
3 cans of vegetables
2 cans of protein-rich beans (e.g. chili, garbanzo, baked, etc.)
1 can of tuna/chicken
1 boxed meal (e.g. Rice-a-roni, Lipton noodles&sauce, scalloped potatoes, Tuna Helper, etc.)
1-2 boxes macaroni&cheese (based on abundance in stock)
2 packages ramen
1 large can or 2 small cans fruit
1 box plain pasta
1 jar of spaghetti sauce or tomato sauce/paste
3 cans soup
1 jello
1 pudding
1 paper product
2 bars of soap
$10 worth milk, meat, fresh produce, eggs at local Cub, Hy-Vee or Fareway

All of these items are subject to availability. If we're out of cereal or peanut butter or spaghetti sauce, which is often the case, it's just omitted. There's nothing we can do really. I ask people if there's special items they need such as tampons or diapers or toothpaste and if we have them, we'll throw them in. Also available is flour, sugar, and other random baking items, like corn syrup and pumpkin pie filling that we can throw in. If there was abosolutely nothing in your house in terms of food and hygeine items, how long could you stretch out the items listed above? Let me know what you find out...

Sometimes I get calls from panicked people, people in crisis, people on neptune. Today Karen calls me up:

Karen: The electric company cut my power off and I don't know why!

Me: [I think to myself, I don't know why either, dear...] Well, have you called them up yet to see what the deal is?

K: No. I just got out of the hospital. I've had surgery and been away from home for a week or so. My son said there were some letters, but he's at school and I don't know where he put them. They increased my budget billing payments on me.

M: Why don't you try giving the electric company a call? I don't know anything that you don't at this point.

K: Well, here, let me see....yes, here's one of the letters they sent: "Due to a review of customer actual usage to adjust Budget Billing projections, we show you would owe approximately $215 at the end of the 12-month billing cycle in March. To adjust for this, your Budget Billing payments will increase from $113 to $149 for the next six months." How can they do that? *sobbing* I don't know what I'm going to do! I just hate these people!

M: It sounds like that's not related to why you were shut off, especially if it's not an actual bill. They're just letting you know that your next bill will be more than what you're used to paying. How about you try giving them a call and ask what you need to be turned back on. Their number is 1-800-ELECTRIC.

K: Okay. I'll do that and then I'll call you back.

M: I want to let you know that I won't be able to help you again with any emergency funds at this time. I'm all out of money for the month. If you're needing some referrals for assistance I'll be happy to give you some phone numbers and a referral letter. Remember to try and stay calm with the representative when you call. I know you're angry, but the worst thing you can do is raise your voice to them. Ask to speak with someone in Collections if you're not getting anywhere with the person who answers.

K: Okay. Okay, I can do that. Thanks.

After hanging up with her, I shake my head. Why do people always call me first. I don't have magical powers. I don't know things they don't. Why do they call me? Part of the reason, I think, is that they've come to me before and I've done the talking with the utility company and get them hooked up again. The utility companies are always a little nicer with us than with the customers. Mostly, I think, because we're nicer to them than the customers are.

People must just get so upset and start feeling so hopeless and powerless that they just completely lose the ability to think about causes and effects. They need someone to think for them for a minute. To give them some hope, some paths, some options. Sometimes I lose sight of my role as path sweeper. Some people have let the sadness of their situation scatter leaves and brambles across the rational path, the solution path, the path of possibilities, the path of responsibility. I need to remember that they don't expect me to work magic; they just need to borrow my sanity for a moment. I'm not in Hazy Shades.

I am still not trustworthy in the eyes of our PR woman. I made a big mistake last winter in telling a reporter that I thought the utility company disconnecting service in the middle of November for an overdue $20 was "ridiculous" and got our agency in a minor jam. Part of my job, I guess, is making nice with the evil utility overlords so they'll accept our promises to pay out of our emergency funds and such. PR woman says "it's their money and they have a right to demand it, or else deny service." The crime-fighter in me wanted to say, "fuck off, you making-four-times-as-much-as-me, out-of-touch whore. No one should have their heat cut off in the middle of an Iowa winter regardless of their ability to pay." But instead I just nod (which is silly since we're on the phone) and say, "I'm sorry, Julie. I understand completely. It won't happen again."

That was the first time I ever spoke to the public as a representative of my agency and I didn't quite understand the politics involved. Before I did the interview, I alerted PR woman and she OK'ed it, giving me zero advice. Now, everytime a reporter comes to me for information about programs that I administer, I give them Julie's number (which is protocol). She calls my director, who knows little details about what I've been doing and always has to come to me eventually to get program usage numbers, personal interest stories, and information on what we need the most.

So today, Shelia, my director, has me grab my accounting book and sit in her office while she's on the phone with the reporter. She turns the volume up so I can vaguely hear some of what the reporter is asking. Then, she slyly repeats the question in the beginning of her answer so I can, mostly off the top of my head, rattle off the answer. Speaking of ridiculous...

Today I participate in the Housing Coordinating Board meeting that my boss got me started going to after she took forever and five days off to be with her ailing mother out East. I love Bev. In her shaky voice you can hear the outrage burning in the pit of her stomach as she tells us the day has arrived when Americans have spent more money on luxury items than necessities for the first time in history (no cite available) and yet there are still people in our community without homes, without clothes, without healthcare (if you need a citation, come spend a day with me in my office). She knows what's up and she feels it more than I can. Despite all the very sad stories I've heard, somehow I've been able to maintain a pretty emotionless interaction with the people I serve. The only emotion I really feel at work is severe frustration: frustrated that our emergency funds aren't very flexible - I can only use them for very specific purposes, frustated that people can't take "no" for an answer even when there really is absolutely nothing I can do, frustrated that even in our relatively small agency there are so many administrative problems and bureaucratic issues... But, I've never sobbed, like Jill, one of our caseworkers, after listening to Stephanie tell about how her granddaughter's dad beat her to the ground outside her home in front of the child, whom Stephanie is the primary caretaker for. Last night's episode of Charmed brought me a couple tears, but Stephanie's story... just a pair of sympathetically wrinkled eyebrows and a hug for Jill.

What is wrong with me? I think it's just survival. There are so many heart breaking stories, I wouldn't be able to get any of my paperwork done if I was sobbing every ten minutes. Maybe that's just what my agency needs... No paperwork to get done because all the workers are actually emotionally connecting with the families we're serving. That would show them, don't you think?