Joined
·
16,867 Posts
Its sad to read stories like this, but it also leaves me with several questions.
1. Where is this persons chain of support? This means, where is his brother, sister, mom & dad, and cousins. Surely there is someone that can take him in?
A buddy of mine lost his job and was on the verge of being homeless. My wife and I took him in for about a month. In exchange for a living area and food, he cooked, washed the dishes, cut the grass, washed the truck and SUV. The agreement benefited all of us. My buddy was not a parasite - he was a hard working person that needed a little help. And today he is doing just fine.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/7681978.stm
1. Where is this persons chain of support? This means, where is his brother, sister, mom & dad, and cousins. Surely there is someone that can take him in?
A buddy of mine lost his job and was on the verge of being homeless. My wife and I took him in for about a month. In exchange for a living area and food, he cooked, washed the dishes, cut the grass, washed the truck and SUV. The agreement benefited all of us. My buddy was not a parasite - he was a hard working person that needed a little help. And today he is doing just fine.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/7681978.stm
I really liked my job and wanted to keep it. I joined in February, and having worked for many years as an IT contractor - with its inherent instability - this position offered the potential of a full-time position. It could become a "secure" job.
But when security guards made simple, routine rounds though the cubes and offices, people would look up from their desks.
There would be a sigh of relief as the guards kept going.
I never thought it would ever come down to this, but here I am - homeless
But it didn't happen this time. On a Friday, my manager came to my desk. Usually he came by to ask me if I could put in some overtime. But, just by the look on his face, I could tell. This wasn't an overtime request. This is it, I said to myself.
Sure enough, I was told that my last day would be the end of the month.
Though I didn't show it outwardly, I was devastated.
I had to move from my apartment, put my belongings in storage and find a homeless shelter.
I now sleep in the back of my car, while I wait for a bed to become available at the shelter. I call it The Hotel Honda.
I keep a good suit and a dress shirt in the back of the car for interviews. I tell recruiters that I'm working.
This is not the life I imagined for myself when I graduated from university. I never thought it would ever come down to this, but here I am - homeless.
My meals are taken at a soup kitchen. This is poverty.
What galls me the most is that about one third of my income is taxed. I'm taxed on what I earn and taxed on what I spend.
Now that I'm in need there is nowhere to turn.
Nobody is helping me except for my contributions to my unemployment account.
Yet our leaders have found a way to bail out the very institutions that have put myself, and others, at risk.