Robert Callahan Is Spinning in His Grave
Back in October, I wrote a blog post called “The Joke of the Callahan Inspection” to which I refer you if you do not know what it is, and thus keep this entry short, since I’m on a public library computer with a countdown timer. The inspection is today, and probably completed as I type this.
In the weeks leading up to the inspection, there has been a lot of repainting on the walls. Towers of mattresses were in the halls over the past two days. When I was moved from the second floor to the first floor after my complaints about the elevator and the two of four closed restrooms, the bed I got was crushed, and not pain-inducing like the previous one. Yesterday, they replaced my new mattress. The door of the dorm was wide open, and I let off some rants about how they gave the tallest guy in the room the shortest mattress, one significantly shorter than the bed frame. I was the only one in the room, so it wasn’t directed at any person in particular, but I’m sure that they heard me. I was much more polite when I went up to the maintenance guy and asked him why I was given so short a mattress, and Ms. Jackson made sure that he gave me a longer one.
They wanted us to shower in the evening, but I came home late enough that I didn’t shower. To discourage us from showering in the morning, not only were all the dorm rooms opened, with Ms. Jackson going about freely in them, but one of the restrooms on the floor was closed, and it was announced that the water would be cut off completely at 7 AM.
When I was going for my usual shave on the toilet bit so that I can a) sit and b) multitask to save time, all the available stalls had either urine on the seat and/or no toilet paper. I was raising hell and they threatened to have me removed from the building for the rest of the day before I was ready to leave. They sent me to use the restrooms in the basement (which lack showers and are each bigger than my former living room, with vast empty space, in an obscene display of wealth), all of which were also lacking toilet paper.
At the time of the Callahan inspection, the shelter eschews any pretense of being about helping people and reveals its true purpose–to make money for the owners. When I said this to the staff this morning, their anger was intense, which is all the more evidence that my assessment is true. Had it been false, the likely response would have had more compassion than anger.