A Fair Summary

The fair was absolutely crazy. It called for 3 workers a night, myself being one of them, and over the course of 10 days IES ran through 11 different workers. We were plagued with issues my guys promise “will never happen again.” Some came one day and not the next, others late and a few more not at all. One had to take care of his sick ‘old lady,’ another had to babysit his 16 and 12 year old sister and brother, and later had a church revival he promised his pastor he would attend. One fussed at me for being a minute late to pick him up, and then, once at the fair, sat on the toilet for over half an hour. One never became a worker because he got arrested on his way, and another was arrested today—payday—for first degree burglary, and his girlfriend lied to me, picking up his check without permission.

These are only my thoughts, but I think it will be healthy if I can grieve seemingly bad decisions without becoming attached to them. Otherwise, I’ll get discouraged and quit. Or, my arrogance won’t stand it, because nobody should bypass something this good for them. But the truth is I don’t know whether this is good for them or not. It may be for some and not others, or maybe not anyone. People are complicated, and I learned while living at the Star Gospel to at least try not to be presumptuous about someone else’s needs. Because when I was, I got them all wrong.

Christ knew what people needed, but it’s possible the very legs that once were lame later helped them steal a diamond necklace and run. It seems that Christ loved without condition. He could have healed only those who wouldn’t fudge his blessings, but I don’t think that’s what he did, at least not with me. I try to invest without having to control, try to give without conditions, but it seems impossible and sometimes stupid. I don't know the answers.

Other things, though, have genuinely gone well. There’s been excitement amongst the guys. The idea of the Hope Fund has been successful. One worked 55 hours and earned—in addition to the wage he would have received from a for profit agency—another $55 applied to his water bill. Another worked 45 hours and earned the same amount towards his electric bill. We didn’t get fired, and I handed out at least a few business cards. I’m taking some time to try to reflect on what went well and what didn’t, and to raise some money for what I believe are the bare essentials to give us a chance for success. Hopefully there will be more on that to come.

A Friendly Tribute

For those of you who didn’t know, IES began with one officer, grew to two, and now has one again, and if we’re honest with ourselves there were times when both officers didn't much like the other.

Pete and I have known each other since our freshman year in college. He slept on the bunk above me. Once at 5:45 am Pete tapped me on the shoulder to wake me up for my basketball practice at 6 am, and since then I’ve been convinced of his guardian angelship. Pete moved from Pennsylvania to Charleston to help start IES, and I first submitted our articles of incorporation in hopes that he would do exactly that. We wouldn’t have made it this far without him. But, even so, ever since he stepped into the mission we’ve done nothing but lock antlers like two wild bucks.

“It’s a messy story,” Pete said retrospectively last Friday.

Pete and I have had some tense moments. Like when I was driving Pete’s car and his transmission blew in Adrienne, Texas, and the following day I told him that we couldn’t take a bus home but instead had to keep going. It became tenser when—again while I was driving—I turned off Pete’s newly bought Ford Focus in the Grand Canyon welcome center and his key wouldn’t come out of his ignition. It stayed there for the next few days as we hiked and Pete must have contemplated the consequences of pushing me into the canyon. And even though I'd been causing all the problems, as the trip progressed it became all I could do in our tent at night to keep from kicking him.

That tension grew when, after returning home, I told him I didn’t want to sign a lease together, and continued even after a few weeks later Pete officially moved on and away from IES. There is conflict In Every Story, and every friendship too.

So for a while Pete stopped calling and I avoided him. I tried explaining to others that he was no longer with the organization without letting hints of bitterness escape me. I prayed (some) that I would stop imagining scenarios of failure for Pete. It seemed possible that our friendship was never made of anything more than a few commonalities close to falling off their hinges.

But In Every Story there are also examples of God’s love, hope, and redemption.

Last Friday Pete became a last minute replacement for our job at the fair, and it was a chance for both of us to heal and forget—a nice cap to a story that started a little more than a year ago when Pete and I took a picture of our fellow resident Errol working at the fair as a day labor. “I’m not sure if it’s a step forward or not,” Pete noted, “that last year we were taking pictures of day laborers and now we are the day laborers.” I thought that was a good point. But, as Pete’s already noted, good stories are just messy like that.

Things have settled between us, and I think we’ve both learned a lot. Our faith has grown too. I’ve decided that so long as I’m still invited I’m going to attend his wedding next summer, and his name is still in the running for my first born child or at least a beloved pet. I did some thinking the other night while we swept about what a lucky guy Pete is: He’ll be in law school soon, his fiance will be home, and there are a lot of things going for him. And in all honesty, I'm proud of Pete...I think this will forever be a defining time for both of our lives, to learn and take risks, but ultimately it will be time for both of us to accept the plans God has for ourselves and each other, and for Pete that means moving on. I’m just glad that we’ve become cheerleaders again. That’s what friends do.

The First Job: A Start

After our first day we had somebody Quit. Finally, after more than a year, we have our first job—and then somebody who I had assumed needed work—apparently didn’t. I know that these things will happen. The faster we learn to deal with them the more successful we’ll be.

So I made some calls looking for a replacement. Candidate #1 wanted to work Tuesday but not Monday. Candidate #2’s “old lady” said he would have loved to work if he hadn’t been arrested for not paying child support. Candidate #3 didn’t pick up but #4 claimed he would meet me at the Dream Center at 7:30 sharp. The next morning he didn’t pick up his phone and by 7:28 Albert was saying, “You better call somebody else, ‘cause that boy aint coming.” We picked up candidate #5, Shelton, at 7:36 and barely made it to the Exchange Park on time.

I’ve been learning a lot:

People are undependable. They are mortal and die, and won’t show up on time or at all. I think that God lets these sorts of things happen to bring awareness of Him. God is on time. He’s dependable. He uses these inconvenient moments to teach me. Either I will learn to trust Him or be miserable.

The homeless and near-homeless create perspective for my own life. Sometimes you think you know what somebody needs, but you don’t, and they don’t want it. God knows what I need, and I still don’t want it. He weaves opportunity after opportunity for me to say, “Ah, I think I’ll pass,” and I’m sure he’d like to whap me a good one. But He doesn’t. He keeps weaving.

I’m learning by attempt and sometimes failure how to do a lot of other things; how to deal with customers, how to pay the guys, how to avoid unneeded confrontations and company mutinies, and how to not paint yourself into a corner (Albert was helpful with that one). Our customer says we’re doing “Okay.” He says he’ll be bringing us back in a week to work for 10 nights as janitors at the Coastal Carolina Fair. I’m hoping some of you will come and see.

It’s exciting to be here. Praise the Lord! And it’s exciting to know that if it’s God’s will then He must be moving. I only have one seat left in my car, capping our current capacity for growth. And as long as I’m on the job sites working (which has been a good learning experience), we can’t compete with other for profit agencies to secure future contracts. And we need to compete with for profit agencies. It’s probable I’ll need a little help from other people. And they'll come. But until then, and after, I’ll be counting on God.

Intakes at the Dream Center

The big success of the past month is that we’re now working out of the Dream Center in North Charleston. This gives us a physical location, credibility, and a place to meet employees face to face. So far I’ve conducted close to fifty interviews.

It has been encouraging and energizing to meet the people we want to employ—encouraging because I had my doubts that there actually existed good, honest day laborers who want better, and energizing because I’ve wondered whether or not this could help anybody. But both of these are lies. Just today I talked with a man who, for the past five years has biked more than five miles every morning to a temp agency looking for work. A few weeks back another man came to the Dream Center and explained how a local temp agency took money off the top of everybody’s checks. “What are we supposed to do?” he protested, “Not take it?”

Still, as success whispers the lies grow in both numbers and strength. They pound on the door and yell. It’s almost thrown me off track. The lies consist of: This isn’t working, I should be doing other things, this is taking too long, it’s just a temp agency, I am stupid and inadequate, and I won’t have enough time or money. I feel guilty because we’re conducting interviews but we aren’t even operating. The lies have made me bitter and depressed and inwardly focused, and some nights I go to bed at 9. I wake up not knowing what I should be doing and pass the day hoping I’ll figure it out tomorrow. Even at this very moment I believe some of these lies. They can be difficult to shake.

Still, I know there is nowhere else that I should be.

There have been a few key people who’ve stepped up and said, “This is going to happen, it’s just a matter of time.” And those people are right. We now have a place. We have interested businesses. We have potential employees. We even have an agency that will front our payroll. We need insurance, and a little help from God. And that’s it.

Christ tells us there will be lies and opposition, but that if we stick with it there will be a harvest. The good news is that the more opposition we face, the more lies we hear, the more people say no, the more we know something can really help some people.

Waiting Rooms Change in an Instant

Waiting rooms change in an instant. And that’s about the best thing I can say about them. Let me tell you about mine.

Since September 23, when IES first began, my life has become a waiting room. Excitement turned to anticipation, and anticipation turned to waiting, and now waiting is all I do. Lately, waiting has turned to negative things. I’ve started questioning. I’ve struggled to believe. It’s been like watching a ship go down with a leak you knew would start; because it’s supposed to seem unlikely, people are supposed to ask when it’s time to—you know—and it’s supposed to look darkest before the clear. These are how good stories go. But I wasn’t supposed to hop on the debbie downer bandwagon.

There was a fantastic Seacoast sermon about waiting rooms several months ago, but I can’t remember what they said you should do. I remember what they said you shouldn’t do, and that is to complain, because I’ve been doing a lot of it. It makes everything a problem. Good things become bad and bad things become worse. I’ve also become fantastic at blaming, being pessimistic, ignoring the positive to focus on the negative, and concentrating on my problems to become more miserable. These are horrible parts of me that surface when I’m waiting.

But they can also only change through more waiting.

Faith, it turns out, is best cultivated while waiting. So is strength, hope, and appreciation for what God’s given you and what lies ahead. Waiting is when you get things done. Becoming more like Him takes time and a lot of waiting. Besides, it does no good to have IES running if part of running it well requires patience.

Today, like almost every other day for the past several months, I called Joe Riley’s assistant to find out if there was any news, and this time the news was surprisingly good. Our case is finally making it to the front lines.

Meaning we could start. Meaning things could change in an instant.

In the meantime, I want to make the most of this waiting room—forgetting the parts I’ve botched—and becoming an encouragement to you. Waiting rooms take many different forms and we all endure and sit in them in one way or another. Make the most of the opportunity. If you’ve REALLY done all you CAN do, don’t stress about doing more. Take heart, and have faith, because (insert as many expletives here as you’d like) waiting rooms change in an instant.

What we learned on our summer vacation

One of the primary motivations for taking our recent 8,000 mile odyssey was to visit some of the nation’s leading alternative staffing organizations. Thanks to the hospitality of a number of already very busy people, we received up-close looks at the operations of three top-notch social enterprises: CASS-TES in Phoenix, Chrysalis Enterprises in Los Angeles, and Harborquest in Chicago. Here’s a sampling of what we learned.

Central Arizona Shelter Services – Temporary Employment Service operates out of the largest emergency shelter in downtown Phoenix. The sprawling complex with neatly manicured lawns accommodates several hundred guests and many on-site social services. The dental clinic in particular caught our eye. A fleet of volunteers bustled around rooms full of shimmering new equipment. The director had convinced dental supply companies to use the clinic as an opportunity to showcase their state-of-the-art equipment to the dental professionals who come from all around the country to donate their time there. CASS-TES buses about eight employees to worksites each day. Since it operates under the umbrella of the shelter, it has direct access to its client base (if someone doesn’t show up for work, you know where they sleep), and it benefits from the administrative infrastructure of the shelter. The folks at TES reminded us that the day labor market is extremely competitive, that residential construction is down, and that finding work-ready clients can be challenging.


Chrysalis seeks to empower economically disadvantaged people through employment. It is not a shelter, but rather a hub for employment services to the homeless and others in need. Their offices sit right off Skid Row in downtown LA. We were immediately struck by the welcoming atmosphere of their reception area. Clients fixed themselves coffee, checked their voicemail at a bank of phones, and hunted for jobs at the computer terminals. We attended orientation and budgeting classes, both run by enthusiastic volunteers. Chrysalis obviously knows how to utilize its volunteers effectively; many have been coming there for years. Chrysalis Enterprises is a transitional employment program offered to clients who need supported work experience before entering the job market. CE operates a booming street cleaning business, having secured the majority of the street cleaning contracts with the city’s Business Improvement Districts. CE uses former clients as foremen on its street cleaning crews, which offers current clients additional incentive to work hard. CE is in the process of cutting back its clients’ hours from 40 hours per week to 32 hours. This change is designed to give clients time to conduct job searches.

We had two additional treats at Chrysalis. Joe Parente, who oversees the operations of the street cleaning business, treated us to lunch at the Nickel Diner including a desert of maple glazed bacon donuts. Trevor Kale, who directs CE, gave us a fascinating tour of Skid Row.

In Chicago, we met with Bill Schwartz of Harborquest, the first alternative staffing organization in the country. Harborquest started in the 1970s with the aim of paying higher wages to day laborers. By the mid-1980s, they were sending out over 700 workers every day. But they felt like they weren’t helping people escape poverty. So they changed directions. They scaled back the staffing business and started transporting inner city residents to the industrial jobs springing up in the suburbs. Eventually, they convinced Chicago public transit to pick up the routes of these reverse commutes. Presently, they’re planning to jumpstart the staffing business once more. They already send out a few hundred workers each day. Bill encouraged us to be more than a temp agency, to provide the extra support that helps people help themselves. We also discussed top-down marketing for business expansion, which means pitching to the people in charge of a company rather than site supervisors because the former will be more receptive to the social benefits of our business. Additionally, by sitting in Harborquest’s call center for an hour we were able to observe well-honed account and client management procedures.

Bill also took us out for Thai food, which was slightly more delicious than the peanut butter sandwiches and granola bars upon which we sustained ourselves for most of the trip.

Overall, the words of encouragement and counsel that we received during our visits with these organizations left us more informed and more confident. We are grateful for their generosity and looking forward to thanking them further by putting their advice and example into practice.

Adrian

If you’re starting a nonprofit temp agency, Adrian, Texas has a lot to teach you.

Derek and I left Charleston on May 17 on a cross-country road trip. The plan was to visit three other nonprofit temp agencies, see the country, and build up the momentum to propel IES from concept to reality. I had initially refused to go, denouncing the whole endeavor as financially reckless. Derek convinced me, though. The day before we left he preached a sermon at the storied St. Michael’s Episcopal of downtown Charleston. Watch the video. It’s a great message and gives you a sense of how persuasive he can be when he starts talking about embracing risk. (As a side-note, if you listen carefully to the video, you’ll hear him say that we’re going to get into “our car,” and I whisper “my car.”)



Two days later we were cruising across the Texas Panhandle. Amarillo, the Cadillac Ranch, and signs for FREE 72 OZ STEAKS came and went, and the hamlet of Adrian would have come and gone as well if the speedometer hadn’t stopped working. We pulled over. Smoke rolled out from under the hood. It looked as if someone had spilled coffee on my transmission.

I had the car towed back to Amarillo. The next day Tom the mechanic rather insensitively proclaimed the death of my 1999 Mazda 626. (“Smell that? That’s the smell of death.” He would charge me $70 for that piece of nasal wizardry.) I began to wish that I had not replaced the exhaust system just prior to leaving on this trip. I began to wish that I had not swooned over Derek’s riskophilia and come half way across the country to lose the most valuable piece of property that I owned. Amarillo was an ugly town.

I purchased a used Ford Focus that afternoon. The next day we drove to Phoenix, and many gifts were given unto us during the rest of the trip.

There’s an obvious moral to the story, a restatement of what Derek talks about in his sermon: risk sometimes incurs loss, but better to lose in boldness - and still reap some of the fruits of boldness - than never to play out of fear. That’s an important moral, especially in light of the difficult steps that we will need to take to get IES off the ground in the next few weeks. But quite honestly, that was a lesson I had learned prior to the demise of my vehicle.

Still, part of me needed that car to break down. Part of me needed the rotten parts of the trip if only to force me to appreciate the real value of the journey. My favorite scene in TH White’s The Once and Future King features Lancelot, the greatest knight ever known, relating the story of his unthinkable defeat during a quest in which Lancelot had made great sacrifices to maintain spiritual purity. When Guinevere asks what his reaction was, he replies, “I knelt down in the water of Mortoise, Jenny, where he had knocked me – and I thanked God for the adventure.”

I’m no Lancelot, and I need to do a better job of being grateful for the adventure.