I’ve never actually been homeless. But, I have in fact been treated as being homeless, and it has happened with increasing frequency over the past few months.
The most recent scenario in which I was considered homeless was yesterday on my way back from the gym. I usually work out in jean shorts, a Senor Frog’s shirt, a bandana, and some New Balances which I bought five years ago. They are truly a quality product, although they aren’t aesthetically pleasing anymore.
So, I’m all sweaty and I go into San Sai, which is basically a Japanese Burger King and order a shrimp tempura roll with a side salad.
“For here” I say when asked.
Even though the place is empty, it takes about half an hour to prepare the order, and I am finally given a takeout bag even though I had ordered to dine-in. This doesn’t really bother me, I guess its an easy mistake. So I take the bag home and open it up. The sushi roll is far below their normal standards – which are low. Its really sloppy and falling apart and missing some ingredients, and it just looks gross. And they forgot the salad. It wasn’t worth my time to put on my Louis V slippers and go back and complain.
My theory: selective passive aggression. The establishment doesn’t want homeless people in their store, but they don’t know exactly who is or isn’t homeless, and they don’t want a lawsuit. So they profile you, and based on how homeless you look, are correspondingly rude and unhelpful.
A few days later I went to meet my friend for lunch at Basix Cafe on Santa Monica Blvd. I was wearing my New Balances, thermal underwear, and a Dave and Busters sweatshirt. The reason I had on this admittedly sup-par outfit are as follows:
I did laundry the previous day, washing nearly everything I own. I borrowed my friend’s car to pick up my laundry because he has an SUV and I had a lot of laundry. I returned the SUV to him and forgot to remove my laundry from it, at which point I was forced to spend the day wearing the only things left in my closet.
Besides friendly chit-chat, the meeting with my friend was necessary because he had recently gone through a break-up and was not on speaking terms with the young lady, so I had picked up his mail from her and was bringing it to him.
So, I walk into the cafe in my thermal underwear, carrying two grocery bags full of papers and other junk. I ask for a table for two. I am told that they don’t have anything available. I look around – I see tables everywhere. I am confused, because I have forgotten that I am homeless. Finally, my friend arrives, and we are wearily seated.
How does it feel to be homeless? Bad. But it has indeed motivated me to step up my game and stop looking homeless, and maybe, just maybe, actual homeless people can take something away from this.