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If writing a post which details the silly decision making that goes on at the JP is complaining, then a post detailing effective methods of decision making might be the thing to do. I was talking with Erhu last night, about how what isn’t said is often more difficult to tune into, but so much more informative. Like a haiku.
With hours and wages cut twice in the past year, our weekly operations meetings have become a warehouse for quite discontent, frustration, and fear. While we sit and listen to the dismal financial reports, the frantic need for more funding, and the lack of any meaningful growth- shoulders tense up, facial expressions flatten, and the auditory capacity is reduced.
Being the efficient, solution oriented person I am, I ceased to hear the informational content, and began to spend the time making decisions on how to best keep the TLP running without major bumps in the road. No birthday celebrations, no extras- an attempt to treat everyone fairly and evenly- to send the message that I could protect everyone’s interests fairly. Send the staff the message that it was possible to thrive under repressive management, which justice could be served under the watchful eye of disconnected administration. I could also send the message to the youth that despite what they saw and heard, they could come to me, and believe that I would handle situations diplomatically- that I will not always take the side of staff, that I will not shy away from addressing inappropriate behaviors on either side of the division.
As a result, staff is relatively happy, and youth are relatively stable. Content staff means well cared for youth. Well- cared for youth mean youth with enough psychic energy to dedicate to school, learning how to live as a young adult, how to acculturate, and fight.
After about 9 months, this had all leveled out. People were sued to the money shortage; youth were used to not having birthday celebrations. We were all feeling stable, not all needs were met, there is rarely excess to share, but everyone has enough to feel satisfied.
Sometimes youth enter the program, and begin stealing and hoarding. Taking groceries and other basics and wither keeping them in their room, or giving them to their kin.
When they hoard the supplies for themselves, it often indicated someone who has spent a lot of time going without. Living in homes where there just wasn’t enough to go around. These youth are interested in insuring their basics are met- without regard of others- there is no regard of others when you’re angry. When resources are insecure. Often these youth are fairly street wise, and amiable- other traits needed to survive hunger.
Youth who take the supplies and give them to their people are from a different tribe. These are the youth who perceive the infinite resources of the TLP. Who misjudge our government contract as being padded (who knows if it is, but I isn’t seeing it)? These youth are more likely to have spent time living with family, or a core group of people. The group works within itself to meet needs. It’s us vs. them. Whereas the aforementioned are you vs. me. So anyways, this tribe, the us vs. them’s- they are often less connected to the program, spend weekends with their mother and siblings, trying to get moms back on her feet so that he came just go home. Often less academically successful- these youth has dedicated themselves to their family’s well being. Skipping school to take care of others, skipping school to be with the family. Less future orientation. More social sophistication.
Ahh but this isn’t about stereotyping youth based on their hoarding/ theft practices. This is about how to handle the backlash of the mother’s milk drying up. What happens when a facility contracted to provide care and guidance to young adults cannot provide the “extras” that are often associated with actual care?
Despite a drop in my popularity rating, I held fast to my dogma about no extras for anyone. Which seemed the only truly far way to keep things feeling steady and fair. Youth accepted, when the staff did too. I insisted that this was a temporary measure, to prevent bumps later on. When staff pulled me aside and made me take a close look at the condition of the couches, I was horrified. I went online to over covers for them. They were too expensive- I just knew that there were free couches somewhere in this city- waiting for us to come claim them.
In the mean time I sent out my bat signal- I put out the word that the JP was looking for all kinds of gently used donations. And before long, my mom out me in touch with a man who went on to volunteer to revamp the community room, and lay new wool carpet from wall to wall. Things seemed to be progressing nicely- my program was looking smooth, and we didn’t spend a dime. Which meant no one could be mad that we had money for couches, but not to restore hours, or birthday cakes or whatever else.
Then, the overhead page of a lifetime comes: “donation, line 101”. I pick up, and a greeted by a sweet woman from an affluent community in the city- apparently its time to unload a condo worth of furniture, and our “seniors” are just the people to benefit. I arrange a U-Haul, and some over time for the staff, and 3 days later, we load a whole new set of furniture in. the cost? Overtime and a U-Haul. The youth seem happy, the staff, also happy. All of a sudden, there’s a reason to enforce eating at the table- as white couches (even free ones) should not be subjected to red Kool-Aid, or spaghetti dinner.
Moving day was long, and rife with little potholes, I was tired, and took Monday off, to roll around with my partner, and try to recharge. I knew it would be a long week- someone big had been let go a week ago; I knew the upcoming week would be hectic. Tuesday morning, I pull up, and see an Empire carpet truck in the parking lot. Inside, 2 men are installing carpet in 2 offices on the first floor.
Why? Because there are toxic asbestos tiles on the floor, and it only cost EIGHT hundred dollars to get the carpet. For the upstairs offices, and rooms, too, right?
Blank stares
Well, that’s up to you, we caught the ED on a good day, and got her to OK it.
Do you know hard I’ve worked to find us in kind donors? We have a carpet guy…
“Oh, really? Well…”
And this, dear readers, is the problem with NPO’s. There is zero accountability, consistency, or sense of duty to adhere to policy. Now I am the first to admit that making no money, and being under stress makes one less likely to be honorable all the time. I get that- I get the urge to heat, cut corners, or otherwise
