Work used to give me a sense of self. It is a common framework to which one defined oneself. Against this background, it didn't surprise me that as a receptionist in too quiet an office I was feeling unfulfilled, not only with my career path but more significantly as a person. There is so much more I could accomplish with the hours I have in a day. This need to be more productive finally pushed me to act. I went looking for volunteer opportunities where I can actually contribute and do some good. I needed intrinsic satisfaction.
I've put my hand up for little projects here and there; being an eco-friendly gift wrapper, information runner for Alzheimer's Walk-a-Thon, helping launch a community arts magazine, Front of House duties at an Australian film festival weekend coming up in February. All fun projects raising money for good causes or giving support to things of interest to me. However last Sunday morning I helped serve breakfast to homeless people for the first time. For one brief, unexpected moment I was struck with a great sense of grief.
The Lawyers Feed the Hungry Program serves breakfast three times a week to the homeless. Sunday's service is the only one I can attend and I was happy to cut short my Saturday partying to get to the cafeteria at 8.30am. We prepped until 10am when the guests come in for their meal. As each person finished their meal, they leave with a food package and the next person is seated to be served their meal. The prep work proior to the service was very simple and easy. The volunteer team was well oiled and each person was assigned a specific task. But I was nervous at the start of the service, not knowing what to expect.
The guests were understandably eager to be seated. They were provided with unlimited tea, coffee, juice and milk, cereal, bread, a full lunch (ham, veg, potatoes, salad) and ice cream for dessert. The waiting displeased one guest and verbalised it to one of the volunteers, a girl in her teens. I saw her trying to appease him but he didn't want to be appeased and she was becoming upset. I tried to comfort her very quickly and we moved away from this person who wanted nothing but an argument.
That was the only thing that morning that wasn't pleasant. The guests were all polite people, mostly men, but a handful of women as well. Some didn't look as if they belonged there, while some from the withdrawn look of their faces you know this is a life they've become acclimatised to. They flit from one shelter to another, constantly regrouping with the same people and becoming a community onto themselves.
I didn't expect to get upset. For one brief moment I had to fight the urge for tears and carried on with my tasks. I became relaxed about the work and enjoyed the banter and service itself. It got me thinking afterwards: is it right to help these people by coddling them? Should we withdraw this crutch and offer more productive solutions? But what of those legitimate cases where a chat over a meal is all someone needs to get back on their feet? We shouldn't penalise those who need this service for the majority who'll never leave it. There will always be homeless people for whatever reason. Taking away shelters and food services will not stop people being homeless.
The service only lasts an hour, the last of the guests leave by 11.10am. There were cheery goodbyes and promises of meeting again next week. By 11.20am I disperse with the rest of volunteers to make our own, private, anomynous way home. It is snowing for the first time this winter.
