The first night that I stayed at the shelter I’m staying at now, which guarantees a bed for 6 nights once you get in, I walked into the women’s dorm and saw that, instead of the flat, plastic-covered thing that passes for a pillow that most people have, I had a pretty nice, real pillow on the bed I was to be staying in. I was lucky to get into the shelter; it’s helpful to be able to stay in one place for a while and not have to worry about a lottery.
It was a joke within a few minutes; I said “Hey, good pillow,” and other women there said “You got a real pillow?” Me: “No, it’s not there. It’s a figment of your imagination,” and “It’s not that great,” but nobody seemed to begrudge it to me.
I put the linens that the shelter staff had given me on the bed and went out into the common area for a couple of hours.
When I went back into the dorm, the pillow had been removed from my bed and replaced with one of the sorry excuses for a pillow that most if not all of the other beds had. I said “Where’d my pillow go?” to nobody in particular.
Another homeless woman walked over to me and said “It’s another woman’s pillow. It’s hers; she brought it here. She was in that bed last night, and she took her pillow back, that’s all.”
Eventually, within the hour, I went to the person who was in charge of the shelter for the night and told her what had happened. Here’s what was said, after she’d gone into the dorm for a minute:
Her: It’s that woman’s pillow. She was in that bed last night, and now she’s in another bed, and she took her pillow back. She was in that bed for 6 nights.
Me: I thought the policy was that a guest can stay for 6 nights, then has to be out for a night before she gets back.
Her: That’s not your concern.
It’s not that big of a deal, a pillow; the big deal is that the person in charge of the shelter that night had let the other guests know that it was ok to abuse me.
This place is closing and I have to go.
Last night, dinner was a choice between chicken cordon bleu (from the freezer, of course) and fried fish. There were also fries; I had those.
There's more. I have to go.
No code; gimme a break, would you? @ 3:03 p.m. copyright L. Kochman, october 1, 2011
It was a joke within a few minutes; I said “Hey, good pillow,” and other women there said “You got a real pillow?” Me: “No, it’s not there. It’s a figment of your imagination,” and “It’s not that great,” but nobody seemed to begrudge it to me.
I put the linens that the shelter staff had given me on the bed and went out into the common area for a couple of hours.
When I went back into the dorm, the pillow had been removed from my bed and replaced with one of the sorry excuses for a pillow that most if not all of the other beds had. I said “Where’d my pillow go?” to nobody in particular.
Another homeless woman walked over to me and said “It’s another woman’s pillow. It’s hers; she brought it here. She was in that bed last night, and she took her pillow back, that’s all.”
Eventually, within the hour, I went to the person who was in charge of the shelter for the night and told her what had happened. Here’s what was said, after she’d gone into the dorm for a minute:
Her: It’s that woman’s pillow. She was in that bed last night, and now she’s in another bed, and she took her pillow back. She was in that bed for 6 nights.
Me: I thought the policy was that a guest can stay for 6 nights, then has to be out for a night before she gets back.
Her: That’s not your concern.
It’s not that big of a deal, a pillow; the big deal is that the person in charge of the shelter that night had let the other guests know that it was ok to abuse me.
This place is closing and I have to go.
Last night, dinner was a choice between chicken cordon bleu (from the freezer, of course) and fried fish. There were also fries; I had those.
There's more. I have to go.
No code; gimme a break, would you? @ 3:03 p.m. copyright L. Kochman, october 1, 2011