Day -5: LOST (No, not that one)

Six months after seeing the presentation by the Jarvis Houses crew, and my solemn vow, I was working in one of the least resourced shelters in the City.

Thinking that I needed to get my feet wet in the social work field in advance of my graduation, I accepted a position with Dixon Hall Neighbourhood Centre as a part-time shelter worker.

First day of a new job, lots of nervousness and apprehension as I approach the address of the building where I thought the shelter was. As many who know me can attest, my enthusiasm is often greater than either my sense of direction or my attention to the small but important details of a task. With instructions to be at the shelter for 6:30pm to start my orientation, I arrived at 58 Sumach Street to find the building deserted and no amount of ringing the doorbell would elicit a response. Strangely enough there was a noticeable absence of people waiting to get in at the 7pm opening time.

By 7:30 I was desperate. First day on the first real social work job and already I am in trouble. I started walking up and down King Street, looking for someone to ask about the shelter. If you know the stretch of King Street from Sumach to Wilkins then you know it is a deserted and barren stretch of street scape, especially as it was in 1991.

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Eventually I ended up on Wilkins Street, a narrow little cul-de-sac West of Sumach on the North side of King. I was knocking on doors hoping that someone on the street would know where the shelter was. Only one person answered the door and it took me longer than was comfortable to explain what I was looking for. Eventually I thought I had made my need clear, and after a moment of puzzled looks my hoped for benefactor seemed to get it.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't know what your looking for, but I have some clothes you can have".

Silence.

When I was 4 and living in England I answered the door to our house one day to the postman. "Little girl, is your mother home?"

Silence.

"I am not a girl, I'm a BOY!" Slamming of doors ensued.

Despite my initial intention to repeat the perfomance, I declined his kind offer and went on with my search. Not the last time I would be mistaken for a person who was homeless, but the last time I took offence at it.