For the most part, I have had great experiences with the homeless. They are some of the most interesting people that I have ever met and I consider most of the ones that I know my friends. Some people ask if I ever get fearful or if I ever get taken in a scam...the answer to the first question is no, I am not afraid...I'm cautious, but not afraid. The answer to the second question is yes, I get taken and lied to quite often. The funny part is that I usually know when I'm being lied to and I usually recognize someone "running game." I try to look beyond the lie and concentrate on the need, but sometimes it is very hard. Some people that I work with know how to push my buttons and are what my husband and I refer to as "sandpaper." They will just rub you raw if you come in contact with them for too long. My negative experiences are few in number, but they stand out in my mind...
Miss Bobbie is a large, African-American woman in her early 60's. She is the embodiment of the word hustler. She and her daughter and her granddaughter and her great-granddaughter run scams all over Jackson. I met her in Smith Park several years ago. The whole family would show up at the church from time to time asking for assistance. Miss Bobbie is the type that if you give her a sandwich she will demand two, if you give her a blanket, she will nee
d a pillow. Nothing is ever enough. We had words a few times and for the most part, she gives me my space. Over the last 3 years I have helped her off and on when I felt it was a legitimate request. She and her crew began showing up more and more frequently and after her daughter changed the amount on an assistance check (for electricity) from $30 to $80, I called it quits.
She didn't come around for quite some time and about a year ago she showed up at the door with her fiance, a young man around 40. She told me that she needed help because her granddaughter Katrina (the same granddaughter that scammed with her) had died in Baton Rouge from complications of AIDS. She was so pitiful and I agreed to buy two Greyhound tickets to get them to Louisiana. Miss Bobbie seemed grateful that I had agreed to help.
One morning, right before Christmas, I went down to visit the guests at Grace Place and there sat Miss Bobbie! I hadn't seen her since the funeral. Funny thing though, Katrina was sitting beside her! I walked over to her and commented on how lovely Katrina looked for someone that had been dead for over 6 months. Bobbie never missed a beat. She looked me in the eye and said, "That ain't Katrina...that her twin sister, Katrina." I told her that I found it odd that parents would give twins the exact same name. She turned away and mumbled something under her breath. She hasn't been back to the shelter since that day, but I expect that she will show up after an acceptable period of time has gone by. For some reason, she seems to think that I will forget if she waits long enough between visits.
She is welcome to come back anytime. I will give her breakfast, coffee and a place to rest for a while. She shouldn't, however, make the mistake of thinking that I have forgotten what happened. When you see a dead girl walking around with a sausage biscuit in her hand, you tend to remember it for a very long time.
Miss Bobbie is a large, African-American woman in her early 60's. She is the embodiment of the word hustler. She and her daughter and her granddaughter and her great-granddaughter run scams all over Jackson. I met her in Smith Park several years ago. The whole family would show up at the church from time to time asking for assistance. Miss Bobbie is the type that if you give her a sandwich she will demand two, if you give her a blanket, she will nee
d a pillow. Nothing is ever enough. We had words a few times and for the most part, she gives me my space. Over the last 3 years I have helped her off and on when I felt it was a legitimate request. She and her crew began showing up more and more frequently and after her daughter changed the amount on an assistance check (for electricity) from $30 to $80, I called it quits.She didn't come around for quite some time and about a year ago she showed up at the door with her fiance, a young man around 40. She told me that she needed help because her granddaughter Katrina (the same granddaughter that scammed with her) had died in Baton Rouge from complications of AIDS. She was so pitiful and I agreed to buy two Greyhound tickets to get them to Louisiana. Miss Bobbie seemed grateful that I had agreed to help.
One morning, right before Christmas, I went down to visit the guests at Grace Place and there sat Miss Bobbie! I hadn't seen her since the funeral. Funny thing though, Katrina was sitting beside her! I walked over to her and commented on how lovely Katrina looked for someone that had been dead for over 6 months. Bobbie never missed a beat. She looked me in the eye and said, "That ain't Katrina...that her twin sister, Katrina." I told her that I found it odd that parents would give twins the exact same name. She turned away and mumbled something under her breath. She hasn't been back to the shelter since that day, but I expect that she will show up after an acceptable period of time has gone by. For some reason, she seems to think that I will forget if she waits long enough between visits.
She is welcome to come back anytime. I will give her breakfast, coffee and a place to rest for a while. She shouldn't, however, make the mistake of thinking that I have forgotten what happened. When you see a dead girl walking around with a sausage biscuit in her hand, you tend to remember it for a very long time.
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