The Greatest Things

The strangest thing happened today.

We were interviewing an applicant for our open position of staffing coordinator when I asked why he wanted to work at IES, and he said, "well, I've been reading your blog and…" 

Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute. Darryl and Jordan made their wise cracks, making fun of the poetry, the narcissism, and the seventeen followers (I love each of you, as if you were my own little ducklings). But then I got thinking to myself about John Wooden, and how he said that it took him 14 years at UCLA to win a championship, but that he knew he was a success long before that. For John Wooden, success meant achieving all that he could in each present day, and if he did that, no matter the outcome or his position in life, he told himself with unshakable confidence that he was a success. And so I thought maybe I should do the same; whether there's 17 people reading the blog (I secretly think there's more) or 17 million, what matters is each present moment.  And since right now I think my readership is at its highest peak (in the 17-20 range), I think I should tell you the greatest things that I can, and the greatest things I can tell you are things that have been told to me:

The single greatest thing that anybody has ever told me is when one of my mentors asked me, rhetorically, in reference to IES, "Derek, is it possible you'll make mistakes? No, it's certain." Oh my God, yes, God in heaven above, that took a greater load off my chest than has ever been taken. I made a deep sigh of relief even as I wrote that sentence, and again as I'm rereading it. I'm just not sure that there's anything nicer you can do for yourself than to allow your heart to try the things it begs you to try even if it means an occasional, okay, frequent, okay, nearly every day mistake. Learning allows you to move as close to perfection as we humans can actually get. Perfectionists, on the other hand, want to be God. They can't get out of their seat without loosing their perfection. They live fearful lives strapped to electric chairs just waiting for somebody to pull the switch, or they are exactly like Natalie Portman (which is a good thing) in the Black Swan (which is very, very bad).

Another mentor told me over breakfast at IHOP that when you take a risk it's like crossing a river to a beachhead, and when you get to that beachhead you can see all the things that you couldn't see from the other side. The trouble of course is the courage to cross, and I know that to be true. If you want to read a fantastically fascinating book, try Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. He's a psychologist that won the Nobel Peace Prize for economics, and his basic premise is that we think we are rational when in fact we make emotionally based decisions nearly all of the time. An example is that if you were to flip a coin and tell somebody that if it's heads you will give them $75 but if it's tails they must give you $50, the rational person would take that bet all day because over time they will make money. Unfortunately most people don't. Because people tend to be more motivated by the pain of potential loss than the pain of missing out on potential gain. Being scared of losing what you have is eerily close to being a perfectionist, in which case see above.

A final mentor told me that the Buddhists say the greatest gift you can give somebody is the gift of honesty. For better or worse, I believe that's true. That if I can just bear my soul, that the soul in each of you will recognize a friend, and together we can move forward. That if I can just have the courage to admit my flaws, weaknesses, and ugly spots, that whether or not you can admit yours too you'll feel better about both of us. I don't think success requires anything more than being honest. If your a painter, paint your little heart out, if your a dancer, dance with a ribbon, whatever you do, do it honestly, and I think other souls will recognize the honesty in your soul and appreciate it. I just don't think it's any harder than that.

The greatest thing is life to me is that every good story has conflict, and the best stories happen only when it seems they are almost nearly over. I love how in life things can change from the deepest sorrow to the greatest joy in seconds. It doesn't matter if it's when Rocky finally beats that Russian's a** in Rocky IV or when the disciples finally catch enough fish in their nets to sink the boat; or when Jadaveon Clowney nearly rips the head off a Michigan Wolverine and picks up the football with his forearm. It's really all the same. Just when the day seemed like it was over it wasn't. Somebody refused to give up. The worse things get the better the story. And that's why I believe in Christ. I can only believe in something that addresses death, which seems like it's going to be a real downer, and says, "wait, no, there's a fumble and Jadaveon Clowney has the ball!" This fits with my heart, with the way I see the world going around. It resonates with my soul.

Do I think it's possible that Jadaveon Clowney and Jesus have a lot in common? You better believe I do. (This would make a great T-shirt by the way.)

Knowing that--no matter the conflict--we will overcome, that's what builds our faith, making us in words of the prophet Jeremiah "like trees planted along a riverbank" that "are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit." The fact that I live in a world where underdogs win on a daily basis, where things consistently happen that shouldn't, where things become possible only because of the people that won't stop believing in them, is enough. In my most satisfied moments I can be grateful just to be able to breathe the same air these people breathe and live in the same world they live in. What else is there; what else could be better? And how can I become like one of them?

Well, I don’t know the answers, but I feel like making mistakes, crossing the river to beachheads, and being honest are at least some of them.

Goodnight.

Celebration Dinner

“Not to be corny,” she said, “but it felt a little bit like heaven.”

I wanted to say thanks to everybody who attended the Celebration Dinner we had Sunday night at the office. Everybody was there, from our supporters to our workers, people from different walks of life, different social-economic statuses, and different races: many who had never once met each other before instantly becoming friends.

One of my favorite parts of the night—and I may not get this exactly right—was when one of our workers who works for the city clearing out ditches was talking to one of our supporters who is a very successful business man, and our worker announced to everybody there, “I’ve got a great job!” I think all of us felt a little jealous.

We prayed, we ate, we talked about where IES is and where we are going. Everybody has been so supportive. Thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Gillis, who provided the food and drinks. People left, I felt, with a sense of hope, unity, and mission.

“Success is relative,” T.S. Eliot says. “It’s what we can make of the mess we have made of things.” For IES, success has certainly been relative. Relative to our resources as a company, relative to where our workers are and what success looks like for them. And we’ve certainly made a mess of things at times.

But I’d have to say that last night was something more. I’d say we all stumbled through the door upon something rare that we didn’t expect, a moment when all that mess shapes up into something that’s altogether, undeniably, perfect.

Thanks for coming everyone.

Dealing with Discouragement

Over the past month, since we’ve opened the office, I’ve noticed some patterns in myself. I’ve noticed that on some days, when we put out 6 or 7 folks, I’m as high as a kite, wildly optimistic, and making plans to trade IES on the NY Stock Exchange (even though we’re a nonprofit). On other days, when it seems like this will never get off the ground, or if it does who cares, or, my life feels like a big rain cloud, in my lowest points of discouragement I curl up like a child on our couch and say, “God, you jerk. This is your fault.”

I’ve been making efforts to control the highs and lows, so that this roller coaster ride doesn’t make me vomit. I know that what seems bad often turns to good, and vice versa. I know my feelings have very little impact on the present reality; they can’t change anything, and typically they aren’t even indicative of reality. Still, I don’t know how much “control” you can really have. Thoreau says something to the effect that he admires nothing greater than the man who can elevate his own life with just the thoughts of his mind. On the other hand, if you’re sad you’re sad, and I don’t know what you can do about it. Let’s not get too philosophical.

I supposed what’s important, if you’re going to be discouraged, is how you handle that discouragement. My dad tells me that David “encouraged himself in the Lord.” I think that’s right. I can think of nothing else to diffuse my own, earthly thoughts, than to say, none of this will matter in heaven. In fact, I have written on the wall of my office, “The present thoughts have no impact on eternity.” The problem is that my lowest points of discouragement actually inhibit my ability to read, and if I manage to, I think, “That’s a horse load of crap.”

I don’t know how David did it. What you do in the moment seems a lot different than the outside looking in.

A couple of other thoughts have come to me in my discouragement as well, and they have helped, and so now I’m sharing them with you. The first is that my discouragement is based on making God jump through my monkey hoops. I know I need God to make this work, and I know that to make this work God needs to be putting out so many guys by April 15, May 1, June 31, and so on. “Any God that can’t do that isn’t a God at all,” I think to myself. So, when it doesn’t happen, I throw my hands in the air, look at the ridiculous words written on my wall, and say to God, “You clearly don’t exist.”

Us, non works motivated evangelicals, consistently shove it in people’s faces that we have a relationship with God that isn’t based on how many good things we do. Yet, this is the same thing only instead of putting myself on trial I’m putting God on trial. Ultimately, my relationship with God can’t be based on what he does or doesn’t do for me anymore than it can be based on what I do or don’t do for him. This means that I can’t complain, or get discouraged, whether or not God works according to my plan. The relationship only comes from the faith that one way or another it’s for a reason and a purpose and a plan.

The second thing I’ve realized is that it is, ultimately, God’s responsibility. This takes a lot of pressure off. The worst case scenario is that this is just a meaningless search for meaning. Derek moves into a shelter…search for meaning…works day labor…search for meaning…starts a nonprofit…it didn’t work…and the story ends there. I don’t think the story would end there, but in this scenario I find myself awfully paranoid defending myself against what people will think of me, and also—ah!—against what they’ll think of God. And God clearly needs me to defend him. Ultimately, this has to either be God’s plan or a false start. If it’s a false start, just submit—for one reason or another, he didn’t want it to happen. The next try will work out better, or the one after that, or the one after that…If it is his plan, then no matter how many mistakes I make, it’s ultimately his responsibility for people to see the signs on the door and think, “maybe I’ll give them a call.”

Ultimately, everybody has to go through discouragement. There aren’t any good stories that don’t have it. Use your discouragement to be honest with yourself, learn about life, and draw yourself closer to God. Encourage yourself in the Lord. Read these words on the wall, “The present circumstances have no impact on eternity.” That should always make you feel better.

Just kidding.

Learn to deal with discouragement the best you can, and nothing will be able to stand against you.

The Best and Worst

Thursday was the best and worst day IES has ever had.

I was dropping three guys off at a job site on Dorchester road when a landscaper called, wanting a guy as soon as possible. This meant we would be putting out 7 guys, a new record for a single day. The best day IES has ever had.

I scrolled through my phone and picked an individual who had been through our system, who I knew worked for another labor agency. I picked him up and took him to the jobsite. I told him I was excited for him because this landscaper wanted somebody everyday for the entire summer. A STEADY ticket is what every day laborer dreams of.

At 12:30 I called the landscaper to see how things were going. “Well, your guy listens to me, he does what he’s told…but he’s a little slow. But I’m going to talk to him about it.”

At 3:15 I got a call from my laborer. “This man says he needs somebody who will work faster. So I told him you’d find somebody else who will.”

“You need to finish the day for him,” I said.

“No,” he told me, “I already quit.”

The worst day IES has ever had (probably not the last).

I refunded the landscaper for the entire day, and ended up paying my laborer too, who insisted he worked a full eight hours and seemed willing to do whatever it took to get his money.

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People, in general, have been wearing on me. I get lots of calls from a friend of a friend of a friend who walked by our door. Sometimes people call 4 or 5 times in a row until I pick up, at 1 and 5am, as if I were a 911 operator and their house were on fire. “Can you get me a job?” they ask in urgent desperation. I tell them how it works, that you have to come to the classes, etc. Then they say, “Where are you located?” I tell them. “Hold on, hold on, let me grab a pen.” They still need a pen after calling 4 or 5 times.

The other day a significantly overweight woman came in the office at 7am to introduce me to her adopted son. “He needs a job,” she said. I told him about the classes. “Okay,” he said. And then, “Can I use your bathroom?” Okay. He was loud and made it smell terrible. Then he sat in front of the office for half an hour and came back in to use the bathroom again. “Where did the toilet paper go?” he asked.

“We’re all out.”

Meanwhile, his other brother who had also been sitting in front of the office for an hour came in and asked me if I would watch his suitcase for him while he went to Piggly Wiggly. I told him I was leaving and it would probably be best if he took it with him. He explained he had a bad back and was going to let me watch it anyways.

One more, if you don’t mind:

There’s a severely mentally ill man that spends lots of time wandering around the front of our office. I like him. He doesn’t bother anybody. He has a grimace on his face, looks as if he’s both praying and lecturing, and occasionally comes inside to ask me for a cigarette. When he tries to leave it’s a struggle. He pushes on the door that doesn’t open, and pulls on the door he has to push. He’s too mentally ill to sleep at the shelter.

Yesterday there was a torrential downpour and it flooded Meeting Street. He yelled at the rain, getting soaked by the splashes from the cars going by. Every time a car splashed him he seemed surprised, like he couldn’t figure out how to make it stop. At one point he yelled, “A whale’s going to come out of that water!” It was the first understandable thing I’d ever heard him say, not even his name. He seemed to me like a character you might write a book about, like Moby Dick, standing there yelling at the cars and the rain and the passing whales.

I like the guy, even though he pees and occasionally spits on our front door.

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People have been wearing on me, and there’s no doubt at times I’ve been rude.
IES, frankly, doesn’t have the time for all of this, in the sense that we’re after a niche market, the sliver of people who are down on their luck and want to change. We have NO PLANS to change people, teach them not to walk off jobs, poop in their potential employer’s office, or cure their severe mental illness. We only hope to be a tool to facilitate a change for those who are able and willing. The problem is that if we’re trying to be like Christ, we should be more, right? I don’t know that he tries to change us, but he never stops providing the opportunities, over and over again, for those who are willing, in infinite ways that me or you or IES never can.

For the time being, I understand my losses less annoyingly when I think about his. I call God at 1am and 5am in the morning, demanding things that really aren’t so urgent. I try to put on a good face, and then make his bathroom smell terrible. I, too, accept great opportunities only to several hours later walk off the job: “Find somebody else,” I tell him. When I stop taking advantage of his graces I’ll feel less offended about mine.

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The bottom line for IES, though, is this: Either a sliver of people willing and able to change exists, or they don’t. It’s like Sodom and Gomorrah. Kind of.

Pete and I visited a nonprofit in Chicago that in the 80s and 90s essentially took over the market. They were putting for profit agencies out of business. They charged competitive prices and paid workers more. Laborers across Chicago threatened to walk off the job if their supervisor didn’t let them switch to Just Jobs. And if you can pay a drunk a dollar more while being charged the same amount, why wouldn’t you? But ultimately, they said, “we weren’t helping anybody.”

If there isn’t a sliver, our only other option is to do what they did in the 80’s and 90’s: Be just like other day labor agencies, engage in price wars and disconnect ourselves from our workers, only pay them more. We still can’t care who they are, where they came from, whether they are drunk or sober: Only that they are warm bodies, and warm bodies generate revenue.

This model ultimately says the niche of people worth saving does not exist.

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I had a few beers last night with one of my favorite people, my boss at Palmetto Carriage, Tommy Doyle. We talked about IES and wondered aloud if that sliver really existed or not, and if there was a market of businesses who would care that it did. Ultimately, that’s the question we’ve come this far to ask.

I think the second part of the question is easy. Are their businesses willing to pay $1 more an hour so we can do the things we really need to do: Drug test, background check, pay better workers a living wage, and in return minimize their risk of having problems with laborers while increasing their chances of productivity? I think there are.

But the harder question is frankly, “Are there any people out there worth it?” There has to be. Otherwise, we are just another labor agency. Otherwise, other guys can’t look at our guys and say, wait a minute, it seems like some of them are getting to the next step in life. The answer is yes, even though logically, at 1 and 5 am, when I’m writing an apology letter to a landscaper, when I’m feeling taken advantage of, it’s no, no, no.

The story says God saved Lot, and his daughters. After they lost their wife and mother the tally for the entire city was only three. This time around, we’re hoping for at least 13.

The Best Sales Calls

The best sales calls I’ve had are when I’ve told the truth. Yesterday, I talked to the vice president of a large construction company. I told him about the Star Gospel Mission, and about working day labor, and about the kid working for me, who’s 19, has a baby already, and another on the way. I told him about working day labor, what it was like, and how IES wants to be different. At the end of it, he looked at the paper I’d given him, looked at me, and said: “Okay. We’ll use you.”

The best sales calls I’ve had have come when I’ve just told the truth.

It seems though, that over the past few months, the truth is the one thing that’s faded to the background.

We’ve opened an office, put up signs, and started sending people out—a few people out. I’ve called every landscaping company in the phone book, made it to the L’s under hotels, and spent a lot of down time praying that we’ll become self-sustaining. Our guys still work for other labor agencies because we don’t have enough work for them. They say everyone at those agencies talk about us, but when they do the owners just laugh. “We aren’t worried about them,” they say.

I’ve had sales calls with businesses insisting their day laborers are paid $9 an hour, only to get off the phone and ask those laborers, and they say “no, when we work there, we get paid $7.25.” When I tell the business, “I know they get paid $7.25,” they get defensive, and I’ve probably hurt our chances of them doing business with us. What day labor agencies do is legal, and, after all, they’re giving people what they need most, a job. It reminds me more of Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, people who, in hope, stretch themselves looking for work, get work, and then realize they can’t make enough money working to cover the expenses of living.

The truth is complicated on the laborer’s side, too. I am naïve, but I ultimately see people who want good things and have lost hope that they can ever have it. One of them works for another labor agency, lost his place and is storing his clothes in our office. He was drunk. I asked him a couple of times if he had been drinking, and finally he said, “yes.”

“ Yes, Derek.”

“I’ve been drinking.”

“I make $50 a day. I don’t have enough money to get my own place, and living on the streets isn’t fun. So I drink.”

Look at it like this: Either I work hard and still don’t have enough money for my own place, or I work hard and can at least afford what makes me feel better.

In our classes, one of the things I’m passionate about is showing people that look, if you manage your money well, you can make it even on this wage.

I estimate that they would make $928 a month working at another temp agency, $1088 working at IES (both are hopeful estimations). I tell them budgeting is all about trade-offs, deciding what is most important to you. If a pack of cigarettes is most important to you—$5x5 days a week=$1,200 a year, roughly—that’s fine, but you’ll need to sacrifice 2 months of rent. It’s about tradeoffs, and what’s most important to you. Nobody can tell you how to spend your money.

Another laborer sat in that class drunk. He explicitly stated that his goals were to support his family, and pay for his kid’s college education so he could die in peace (I’ve been astounded by the things people say they want). All these thoughts while he’s drunk. I think people ultimately want good things, but settle when they lose hope they can have them. That sounds like something I do, if you want to know the truth.

At IES we essentially try to say, “look, it won’t be easy, but it is possible!” and a few people are listening. I look at the extra minimum $1 we’re paying and wonder if it really makes a difference? No, sometimes I don’t think it does. I amp it up when I tell people about it, but why? The people who lose hope don’t come to work every day, or do a good job, or stay sober, and that dollar makes no difference for them because they never get it (It’s part of the Hope Fund contract to come to work, do a good job, and be drug free, and I try not to put anybody out who doesn’t meet that criteria). But for other people, it has. One of the guys has been using his $1.85 an hour in the Hope Fund to pay for most of his $90 weekly rent at the Star Gospel; that 19 year old kid just called to ask if he could put his 1$ an hour towards vitamins for his baby. The difference is hope. It’s intangible. And it’s more important than the things we hope for.

At IES, if we convey it, the people who are willing to WILL latch on. It’s the same for us: If we believe we can make a difference for these people and day labor, we probably will end up doing just that.

“When you’re in doubt, tell the truth” that construction vice-president told me, shaking my hand. “And if you’re still in doubt,” he paused, “just tell the truth some more.”

Dear IES Supporters

Here's the email we just sent out to a list of supporters. Donations are at just under $10,000. If you're interested in joining the cause, please mail a donation to:

In Every Story

64 Norview Drive

Charleston, SC

29407

Dear In Every Story supporters:

I am pleased to announce that we officially worked our first job as a maintenance crew at the Coastal Carolina Fair. The job brought success and opportunities to make adjustments. In addition to what our workers would have earned working at a for-profit agency, one earned an additional $55 towards his water bill and another $45 towards his electric payment. At the same time, we are taking a step back to consider what we can do to create a culture that retains and supports our clients as well as to enhance our product so that it is truly a notch above our competitors. We are also raising money for the bare minimum to compete with for-profit agencies. Since we have had early success and our business plan is on track and its execution under budget, please think about rewarding us with your contribution.

Over the past month, $8,500 has been donated to IES. Our goal is $12,000. This money will be used to purchase a used van, create a professional website and hire an additional staff member who will deal with inside issues while I pursue business. As you may recall, one of our goals is to be self-sustaining. However, we need necessities before we can pursue larger contracts.
The future is bright. There is potential for contracts with the City of Charleston and Charleston County. Most important, our workers are excited. Please consider making a tax deductible securities or cash donation to help this business and social enterprise continue to succeed.

Sincerely,

Derek Snook
President

In Every Story

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.

A Visionary Thank You

We wanted to say thank you to everyone who came to our fundraiser last Thursday, particularly Paul Meeks who sponsored the event and Joe Spector who generously offered the use of the Old South Barber Spa free of charge. It was a great time, almost dream like, the realization that what we’ve been advocating for sometime is going to—as it seems—have the opportunity to get off the ground.

All there is to say now is that there is an incredibly long way to go. With every step we take forward, we realize there are at least ten more steps than we thought there were. But this is the way the world works; if we could see all the steps at once we probably wouldn’t move; and, we are moving.

Thank you for your encouragement. It says this is a worthwhile vision. Thank you for your prayers, and excitement, and generosity. The journey will be long, and we’ve yet to find out if this is an idea that really works, but from these uncertainties comes the faith all of you demonstrated by attending and giving on Thursday, and that made the night.

Thanks to everyone for your continued support. Thanks to God, who’s will is all that matters. Our biggest “ASK” is that he would use us in some small way.

A Big Success, Small Step

Back in February I was on a wild goose chase searching for where our clients would work when I stumbled upon the state contract the city of Charleston abides by. The state contract mandates that all blue collar temporary workers should be paid $9.10 an hour. I shared this information with Pete, who didn’t believe me when I expressed in a frenzied flurry that I was certain blue collar temp workers working for the city—who are homeless and near-homeless—get paid the same as all other blue collar temp workers, $7.25.

Later that afternoon we talked with several of the guys from the Star Gospel Mission, who had worked for the city before, through Trojan Labor, a local labor agency. All of them confirmed our suspicions, that blue collar temp workers were being paid $7.25 even though the state contract mandates that these workers be paid $9.10. Within a week or two we had taken pictures of one of our friends who was working for the city and even had his pay stubs dating back to February 25th, each showing $7.25 an hour.

In the meantime we had also contracted the state procurement officer in Columbia, who said the state had the right to investigate if they suspected any fraud, and another state procurement officer who said we should solve things at the city level. We had begun that process too. We had started with a very kind lady at human resources, Susan, who had been calling and checking on the pay rates, and even eventually spoke with Mayor Riley.

On March 9th, when we were sure that Trojan Labor was in fact violating the state contract, we approached them with the document. They said they would look into it. When we approached Trojan Labor again on the March 31st, they said they were checking with corporate.

Then today, April 8th, one of our friends who works for the city through Trojan Labor (and also volunteers at and attends Seacoast Church with me) called us to say thank you, that his wage had been raised.

He said thank you, that this would make a difference in his life.

He said one of the other 12 coworkers who work for the city through Trojan Labor came up to tell him thank you as well, that he would be getting paid $9.10 an hour now.

So for IES, this is a huge success. We’re excited to see our friend and these other laborers make a higher wage.

But it’s a small step:

It’s a demonstration of some of the larger issues with for profit day labor. Both Susan and Damon claimed that they never would have known—in Susan’s case—that the state contract was being violated, and—in Damon’s case—that there was a state contract at all. There is no accountability. No transparency. There will also be no repay. By my calculations $11,544 since January should be in the pockets of the homeless and the near-homeless instead of a for profit labor agency. The problem of for profit day labor, when it comes to dealing with the homeless and near-homeless, is the problem of an entire system and not just one violation of a state contract.

For the homeless and near-homeless day laborer, this is a huge success too. It means hope. It means courage. On April 2nd, our friend who works through Trojan Labor for the city went and spoke with the manager of Trojan Labor, telling him that he knew about the state contract. He told him there was an organization that could prove he wasn’t being paid the right amount, and audaciously claimed that a state representative was planning to shake the tree.

But it too is a small step:

At a presentation at Charleston Southern University today, near the end I told them that In Every Story is about the conflict that is in every story, and then I began to cry. I tried to tell them that in every story there are examples of God’s love, hope, and redemption, but I couldn’t. Instead I cried. Pete had to finish. Because I realized that fairly paid temporary labor is still a small step for the homeless and near-homeless in the grandest scheme of things.

Thanks for your support.

And thank you God, for moving in a bigger way than we could have on our own.

IES on the front page of Charleston Mercury

Fellow tour guide and friend Paul Meeks writes a financial column for the Charleston Mercury, a paper with a distribution of 50,000. He just penned a great article about IES that appeared on the front page of the Mercury. The text of the article is below. Paul's also provided the venue and food and drinks for an IES fund raiser on April 29. It's at the Old South Barber Spa on 10 State Street in Charleston at 6PM. More info to follow.



The Best Investment That You’ll Ever Make!
By Paul Meeks
Special Financial Correspondent

In this column, I discuss ways to save or make money most often by investing in the publicly-traded shares of companies. In this essay, however, I propose joining an endeavor that’s much more admirable and enlightened than accumulating material wealth. I’ll make the case as to how the following local organization is revolutionizing a niche in community service and why it deserves your support particularly in these dire economic times.

First, let’s set the stage. According to the National Coalition for the Homeless, 3.5 million Americans meet their sad criteria. Our local Crisis Ministries estimate that 3,000 folks are homeless on any given night in the tri-counties. That figure increased 19 percent in 2008; and that year was only the beginning of the global financial meltdown. Obviously, the numbers of local destitute have significantly increased since then with few, if any, signs of relief.

I know, you picture a dirty, homeless man wandering the streets talking to himself. He’s a burden to society. There’s no way that he could ever become a productive, self-sufficient person. Of course, there’s no way that this fellow could be a dependable, constructive worker; but that’s not true. According to the U.S. Conference of Mayors, 13 percent of American homeless single (and 17 percent in families) adults are employed. They mostly serve the day labor market. Unfortunately, they’re often abused by the for-profit temporary labor agencies that are supposed to be their advocates.

I’m supporting with my donation, by writing this article, by shepherding their business plan and, generally, with a long-term commitment to do anything that my boundless energy but meager talent allow, Charleston’s sole non-profit temporary labor agency geared to helping homeless work immediately, and, more important, to take them down a dignified and quick path to self-sufficiency.

This group is In Every Story (IES). It was founded by two 2008 Furman graduates with business acumen and hearts of gold, President Derek Snook and Vice President Peter DeMarco. “President” and “Vice President” are exaggerated titles, and not their idea, for this humble, two-person team. I met Derek at Palmetto Carriage where we are both tour guides. Derek and Peter have immersed themselves into assisting Charleston’s homeless who wish to work. These leaders even live in the Star Gospel Mission on Meeting Street with homeless people. Thus, they aren’t limousine liberals. No one walks the walk and talks the talk like these guys. Derek has even done weeks of covert temporary labor with his homeless friends to experience first hand how the for-profit agencies take advantage of the homeless to pad their pockets.

IES will go toe-to-toe with the for-profit day labor agencies to offer a better product for the homeless and for the groups for whom they work. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, they’ll do it at a competitive price for the employer and direct a higher proportion of the proceeds to the homeless.

Allow me to describe the day labor market, so you better understand its dynamics and severe flaws. Nationally, about 80 percent of these workers are hired on street corners and in the parking lots of home improvement stores. The balance use -- or are often used by -- for-profit temporary help agencies. Businesses pay the sponsors an hourly wage for workers a portion of which is forwarded to the employees. The sum to and from the agencies is supposed to increase with job complexity. As you might expect, construction employs almost half of these laborers who are mostly urban men of all races.

How are the homeless mistreated by the day labor staffers? Of course, the latter don’t attempt to groom them for steady work. They often pay out less to the workers than promised.
Believe it or not, they may even forward less of the proceeds than their contracts with companies and government organizations stipulate. For example, we’ve found a day labor agency that appears to be ripping off not only the homeless but also the City of Charleston. (Rest assured if you lead that agency and are reading this, you can expect me to expose you when I’ve all the evidence.) Often, the laborers have no insurance despite doing dangerous work. They face gender and racial discrimination. There are no benefits. Overall, agencies may target the homeless with their predatory employment practices because they know that this segment of the workforce is vulnerable, desperate and uninformed.

What IES offers is a better product for the laborers and their employers. Why is it great for the homeless workers? The group connects its clients -- it sees them as “clients” and not as subservient laborers -- with steadier (i.e., 40 hours per week), more visible employment. IES makes sure that its clients get paid at least the minimum promised under regulations. Furthermore, under its Hope Fund program, a portion of the income is segregated for forced saving. Remember, the organization’s goal is to help these folks become self-sufficient, which means at least the ability to care for oneself in his apartment and often with his transportation. The group will also purchase workers’ compensation and general liability insurance for its clients. Furthermore, clients will be provided with safety gear when necessary and rides to and from work.

The Hope Fund is a particularly interesting and powerful concept. Here’s how it works. The typical wage for a day laborer in Charleston is $12 per hour of which $9.75 is to go to the employee. Of course, as I wrote above, some for-profit agencies unethically and perhaps illegally discount the payout to boost their profits. IES will be sure to forward the $9.75 but set aside $2.50 of it for The Hope Fund for that client so that he has a forced savings program in order to accumulate assets more quickly so that he can rent an apartment and buy a used car.

How does the hiring organization benefit? Workers that have steady employment are more motivated. Beyond that, when they’re motivated they show up for work promptly and arrive sober. With feedback from the employer, IES grades its clients on their job performance. The data is shared with prospective employers. Also, the group randomly tests for drugs and alcohol. The for-profit day labor agencies don’t vet employees because they don’t care if they show up tomorrow. For the same price, IES provides higher quality, more dependable, longer tenured clients who do better work and who -- for the first time in too long -- respect themselves.

As you can see, this is a better and more cost effective way to help Charleston’s homeless work and attain self-sufficiency. Leaders Derek Snook and Peter DeMarco are raising $100,000 to launch their program to help 20 clients in the first year and then 40 in each of the next two years. Clients are expected to be self-sufficient and out of the program by the end of their first year. To manage the organization, Derek and Peter will pay themselves no more than what their clients get paid net, or $9.75 an hour. These two also live in the Start Gospel Mission with their homeless clients and friends. The Mission will serve as their “office” for at least three years.

Bottom line: Essentially every penny of one’s “investment” goes to putting Charleston’s homeless to work and to self-sufficiency within twelve months. Please ask me, Derek or Peter -- both at ineverystory@gmail.com -- for a copy of their business plan, which I endorse, and their introductory PowerPoint presentation.

Here’s how I’m helping in the near term in addition to sharing this story with you. I’m making a tax-deductible donation to this registered entity. I’m also hosting an event on Thursday, April 29 for IES at The Old South Barber Spa at 10 State Street beginning at 6PM. If you’ve never been to the Spa, which was just voted 2010 “Best Barber” by the Charleston City Paper, you must check it out. It’s a cool, tastefully redone downtown historical building. I’m buying the food and drinks. Derek and Peter and other supporters will be there to share their vision. Please RSVP to me or to ineverystory@gmail.com. You’ll have a great time at a terrific venue and while you’re there you may decide to support IES as it gets its first 100 homeless men self-sufficient within three years with essentially every penny going to their benefit.

Paul has been an equity analyst, portfolio manager or strategist since 1987. He’s at 843-693-5845 or at paul@winsorsouth.com

Derek Snook is IES’s contact. He’s at 843-327-8456. The organization’s e-mail address and blog link are ineverystory@gmail.com and http://ineverystory.blogspot.com, respectively.

Bridge from Columbus St.

This is a view of the Cooper River Bridge, from our neighborhood - The East End.

Temp Hires on the Rise

According to the American Staffing Association, the industry employed a daily average of about 2.5 million contract and temporary employees in the fourth quarter of 2008. That represented a drop of almost 20% from the fourth quarter of 2007. The staffing industry is hypercyclical; temp employees are the first to be let go and the first to be re-hired. For this reason, economists sometimes point to the staffing industry as a bellwether for the economy as a whole.

But with signs that the economy might be stirring, temp employment is on the rise. The Post and Courier recently published this piece on area white collar temporary employment agencies doing brisk business of late. (The NYTs put out a similar article a few months ago.) The workers are often new to temp work. They are individuals who have skills and experience but have been laid off from full-time jobs and are willing to take significant pay cuts because jobs are so scarce. The January unemployment figures indicate that at 12.6% South Carolina has the fourth highest unemployment rate in the nation. Those interviewed for the article attribute the rising demand for temporary office staff like receptionists to the fact that businesses are swinging back into gear but remain hesitant to (re)hire full-time employees.

The industry pros interviewed for the article insist that this isn’t a case where businesses are making permanent use of temp employees to keep them off the payroll and avoid paying for insurance and benefits. Whether that’s true or not for white collar temp positions, the practice is not uncommon among businesses using unskilled day laborers. We’ve seen instances where a day laborer has worked for nearly a year on the same jobsite, always as a temporary employee. He never received a raise, and, when the job finished, he was let go with little notice. This is what we mean when we say that day laborers have no job security.

The Elevator Pitch

We just sent out 41 letters to local politicians, businesses, and philanthropists asking if they'd be willing to support In Every Story. In writing the letter, we imagined that we'd just stepped onto an elevator with our reader and only had a few floors to get across our message and why we needed him or her on board. Here it is. After you read it, leave us a comment to let us know how we did. We're going to send out more so you're feedback will be a huge help.


We’d like to tell you about In Every Story, an innovative social enterprise that helps homeless workers help themselves. In Every Story began when Charleston native and Furman graduate (’08) Derek Snook chose to move into the Star Gospel Mission, a transitional housing facility for formerly homeless men in downtown Charleston. Derek did this as an act of faith and in the hope of better understanding the perspective of the homeless.

Derek discovered that of the 3,000 members of this community who will go to bed tonight without a home, many already have jobs. They work as day laborers. Each morning, they rise before dawn and make their way to day labor agencies hoping to get the chance to support themselves. But low wages, agency fees, and severe job instability make it nearly impossible to become self-sufficient. No matter how hard they work, day labor does not break the cycle of homelessness.

From this conflict emerged In Every Story, a nonprofit temporary labor agency that demonstrates Christ-like initiative as it partners with the homeless and near-homeless on their paths towards self-sufficiency.

We offer consistent temporary employment, higher wages, savings programs, safety training, permanent employment services, and spiritual reinforcement. By investing into our employees as well as conducting extensive vetting and drug tests, we provide a quality of labor unmatched by for-profit day labor agencies.

Crisis Ministries spends $24,000 a year to house each of its homeless guests. By contrast, with $100,000 in start up funding, we can help twenty homeless workers attain self-sufficiency in our first year alone. And, because In Every Story will be fully self-sustaining, we will be able to serve countless workers in the years to come without any additional funding. It is too expensive not to invest in this endeavor.

Please contact Derek Snook and Peter DeMarco at (843) 327-8456 or ineverystory@gmail.com to discuss how you can partner with, support, and donate to this effort.

The Latest Jazz

The latest jazz is that Chris has turned into the snoring police. He says that every night Elliot doesn’t sleep on his side he’s going to kick him in the stomach. He vocalizes this, loudly, from behind a huge moustache, while on the other side of the dorm Mark II is interrogating me, asking if I’ve researched opiates, if my truck has rear wheel drive, if I’ve seen the big metal door in the parking garage at the library; if my information is censored the way his is, if I want to go out west with him, if I want to borrow his skis, if I’ve ever seen a bear tracking device. Meanwhile, Errol’s doing laundry, John is making lunch, Mark I is trying to sleep but Ed is playing the mandolin, which doesn’t really matter because of Chris and Eliot’s yelling, and I’m sitting on my bunk bed, bobbing along, trying to type. It’s a mess, to be honest, but one I wouldn’t trade for the world.

I moved into the Star Gospel Mission almost 8 months ago now, and I honestly still couldn’t give you a complete answer why, but through it all I’ve kept coming back to a few ideas:

1) Thoreau says, “Most men live lives of quiet desperation.” And again, “That if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”

2) Donald Miller talks about conflict in our stories, how we have to have it, and how without it our lives don’t make sense. He says that nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who spends his whole life saving his money to drive off the lot in his brand new Volvo, testing his windshield wipers with a tear in his eye. Then he wonders aloud why, if nobody would care at the end of a movie like this, we keep insisting on living our lives this way.

3) St. Irenaeus says, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”

4) Christ, above all, tells us that “He comes to give us life, that we may have it to the full.”

Like I said, I honestly can’t tell you why I (or Pete) moved into the Mission. Even with In Every Story, even with the people I’ve met and grown to love, I waver between what God’s purposes are to what they could be to if I was ever concerned with his purposes at all. I sometimes think it’s some elaborate scheme, or that I’m learning some small lesson I need to know, or that none of it matters at all, that I just ate “bad burritos.” Other times, Pete and I both get the sense that at the ends of our lives we’ll look back on these moments now and realize that all the decisions we’ve ever made were directly affected by the ones we make now (This is partly because as time has passed, I believe we’ve both convinced ourselves that if we stick with it long enough In Every Story will work. It will, meaning it’s more up to whether we have what it takes to hold on or not than whether it is actually a good idea.).

When I think of life at the Mission in terms of goals and accomplishments, why I came here and maybe where I should be instead, I’m just not sure. I have these doubts. I wish I was in graduate school. Or that I had a real job. I compare myself to everybody else, and it makes me anxious and insecure.

But when, in the midst of it all, I keep coming back to these few ideas, I find faith, and the goals and reasons why I’m doing something or not doing something seem not to matter so much. Life, I believe with all my heart, is meant to be lived more like this. When it is, the restlessness I feel from a life of quiet desperation feels alleviated just a bit. When I do, I find when brushing my teeth, or talking to the guys, or climbing in bed, success in the most common of hours. When I take risks and add conflict to my life, I reap the rewards, and as St. Irenaeus said I would, I feel alive. Above all, as Christ promises, I yearn for a life to the fullest that he can give, and in turn I feel filled with faith, and hope, and purpose, and I get the sense that in spite of all that I’ve learned and all that’s happened and yet to come, the reason I can’t tell you why I moved into the Mission is that it still isn’t finished.

And that’s something I wouldn’t trade for the world.