Crisis, 66 Commercial Street, London, E1 6LT.

Bullies will sometimes strive for
positions of authority.

Being attracted by their educational leanings, and the fact they were running creative writing and poetry groups, I visited a day-centre being run by Crisis in Kingsway College, Grays Inn Rd, over Christmas 2013.

Within minutes of entering this day-centre – when I attempted to order a coffee – I was verbally abused by a loud and pugnacious volunteer who obviously couldn’t operate without also attempting to humiliate those he came into contact with.

There might be some excuse for a person to be a little irascible towards the end of their shift but this fellow was just starting and his shocking manners were way beyond rudeness. I could certainly question whether this fellow might have purposely volunteered just to be in a position where he could humiliate others.

This antagonistic loud-mouthed coffee server set the tone for quite a lot of what was to come in both Crisis’ Christmas day-centre and in their facility at 66 Commercial St.

I was hoping to get to know people who were interested in, and partook of, creative writing and poetry, and with this in mind – and ignoring the insulting coffee server – I attended a poetry group that was presided over by a lady named Anne.

This person wasn’t what I had expected to be heading a creative writing group and, as was made clear, she wasn’t that interested in having me take part. I showed her a poem I had written and, without much ado, she insinuated that I had copied it. She, displaying a very suspicious demeanour, and in childlike manner, questioned me on specific aspects of it, probably hoping I’d show ignorance of basic elements of something I had claimed as mine.

Kingsway College, Grays Inn Rd.

She was so obvious about her doubts that another member of the group picked up on it and made a snide comment about how he “likes to do his own work”. I think that what really influenced this chap was that Anne, while analysing me and my poem, announced that she was “psychic”. 

And of course, as everyone knows, psychics aren’t restricted by normal physical or mental barriers. But considering that I did write every syllable of the poem her paranormal powers were way off course that particular day – perhaps the spirits were on vacation, after all it was Christmas.

Anne then decided that we should write some verses there and then, and this we proceeded to do. I’d have shown her that I was capable of writing what I had already presented but she remained iffy and seemed to have some sort of permanent chip on her shoulder.

I went back to this group the next evening and Anne’s attitude hadn’t changed much; she greeted me by stating in aggrieved tone “I don’t know what we’ll do with you”. I suspect that Anne would be happy to deal only with semi-illiterate persons or, in the least, those who had writing skills that were inferior to hers.

Next I attended a creative script-writing class which was compèred by a fellow who described himself as a freelance teacher. He turned out to be extremely arrogant, so conceited I often wonder what causes someone like him to volunteer his time in situations like these.

No doubt Crisis do a lot of good but
that doesn't condone pugnaciousness.

He had offered at one stage to look over any scripts that participants might have and I waited after the class had finished in order to enquire if I could email him a short story I had written or if I’d need to print it off and give him hardcopy. 

There were others who had stayed with various questions and eventually, seemingly getting annoyed with the overrun, he turned and snapped at me; basically he wanted to know what I wanted – as if I hadn’t sat through his class and, instead, had just wandered in off the street. 

Coming completely out of the blue his aggression wasn’t very nice, and doubly so to have someone, you’d expect an educated decorum from, practically shouting at you.

Then there was the IT room where computer access could be availed of. Some of the volunteers who staffed this were unbelievable shoot-themselves-in-the-foot conceited types. There were three who were like this and, as far as I could see, they assumed everyone they had contact with were completely ignorant – it was as if they had a hunger to be among those they viewed as being inferior types.

One Asian chap couldn’t speak to anyone without arrogantly raising his voice and I suspect that his reason for volunteering was either for a week's free food or just to be in a situation where he could throw his weight around – or perhaps both. And another chap with a brogue gave signs of revelling in being among those who, he believed, were subject to his authority – and maybe the fact he got free food for a week was icing on top.

Homeless people have quite a lot to
contend with.

The third, a twenty-something lady, displayed a shockingly childish mentality. I was using Microsoft Word and noticed a strange and misleading dysfunction with the spell checker. 

When the spell check icon was clicked a dialogue box popped up informing that the spell check had been completed when in actual fact it hadn’t; if accessed via the menu bar a dialogue box appeared telling that the spell checker hadn’t yet been installed.

I noticed this because I knew had a particular word spelled wrong and was using the spell checker, rather than opening a dictionary, to find the correct spelling. Considering that this anomaly was very misleading, especially for people who wanted to make a good impression with their writing, I informed the young lady who immediately insisted that the spell checker was working.

She was full of herself and completely dismissive of my protestations that it wasn’t. I brought up the relevant dialogue box, showed her it hadn’t been installed, and then told her that I wouldn’t need any more of her assistance. She, probably disliking having been proved wrong, and too infantile to accept her error, became agitated and flounced off in a puerile manner.

She wasn’t content to leave it at that – rather she wanted some sort of closure – and so she had a word with the Asian chap who subsequently strode over to me and, with a little more aggression than usual, demanded to know if I had a problem. I told him I hadn’t but while doing so could see that he was wavering between even more aggression and some innate sense that further aggravation might be a bad idea. I often wondered whether the childish twenty-something had told him outright lies or just greatly exaggerated what had occurred between her and I.

A second twenty-something lady who had a brogue and who was involved in managing or assisting an art group also seemed to possess an innate need to feel superior. Crisis had a makeshift library set up in the vicinity of the art area and having found a book that interested me I sat and read it. 

I’d been there about an 1½ hours when she approached me and announced in her best patronising voice, “you're reading a lot today, is it a reading marathon you’re having?” I didn’t bother answering this twat. And I’d have no problem believing that she had absolutely nothing to give, or to teach, to any type of artistic endeavour.

On my last day to attend this day-centre I was again verbally accosted by a fool who was acting as a doorman. He loudly and aggressively shouted about “house rules applying” while I entered; I assumed he needed to display how he had been imbued with untold authority. Anyway, at that stage I had become inured to this type of egocentric puppetry.

I should point that there were also staff and volunteers here who had decency and who conducted themselves in a commonsensical manner. But that so many of the others could be found shows something lacking in Crisis’ method of matching volunteers to particular roles.

I was given information about courses that Crisis were running in 66 Commercial St and on the 6th of January I very apprehensively attended and registered for one.

While registering I noticed a male staff member with a brogue, in a crowded area, speaking in a shockingly brusque and belittling manner to a youth from Eastern Europe. The youth – probably hampered by unfamiliarity with the English language – was seemingly trying to get information about courses. It was disgusting the way the Crisis employee publicly belittled him; and considering that the brogue speaker was also an immigrant, or the recent descendant of one, it would be thought that he’d show a little respect to those in a likewise position.    

I subsequently – not expecting very much after the previous experiences – turned up on the day the course was to start and registered at reception. Then, after asking directions to a toilet, I made my way there and just as I was about to enter I was approached by a middle aged lady who acerbically demanded to know where I was going. When she was told her reply was to loudly and patronisingly demand that when finished I was to immediately return to the reception area.

It was as if she were in a mental health facility and was instructing someone who routinely made a habit of going to the toilet and then disappearing. I realised then that what I’d experienced earlier was going to be a continuum; and that if I were to continue and do the course I’d have to be able to roll over and show my belly like a subdued dog. I wasn’t going to do this and returned to reception intending to tell them how unhappy I was with their conduct, and that I wouldn’t be taking a place on the course.

As if to utterly reinforce my belief that a lot of people in Crisis have no respect whatsoever for patrons’ emotions I was again accosted as I neared the reception. A young male – who was manning one of the two reception stations – started to shout at me in a reckless and irresponsible manner; it turned out that he thought I had entered the building without registering. 

If he had bothered to check with his companion he’d have found that she, a very short time earlier, had already signed me in. It was very clear to me then that there was a culture of aggression and patronising belittlement in this establishment. I told them to cancel my place on the course and left.

There was no excuse whatsoever for the way these people denigrated me and I believe that I’m far from the only person that has been treated in such a way. Dealing with homeless people is, almost, perfect for the passionate bully because they know that quite a lot will find it difficult to make written complaint.

And even if a written complaint is made – as I found out in The Connection at St-Martins-in-the-Field and in the Simon Community, Islington – it may very well be treated with disdain and sarcasm. There’s also the age old dilemma of how much it’ll cost you to resist the thug: will you be able to afford it? 

It’s known that people in employment will overlook, countenance and accept bullying in order not to jeopardize their jobs and pay packets – the bully knows this and will work from that perspective when choosing his victims. And some patrons of homeless centres – such as Crisis’s temporary day-centre in Kingsway College – will likewise accept and overlook the thugs lest they be barred and suffer the consequent loss of food, of company, and a warm place to spend a couple of hours.

Another serious downside to bullying is that aggressiveness inflicted upon the homeless person in one of these centres – that disgusting act where the staff or volunteers will inflict humiliation while hiding behind a hot drink, food or a shower – correlates with extra aggression on the streets. 

It’s far from far-fetched to think that some homeless persons will accept the abuse in order to attain tea, coffee, food or a shower but will later – perhaps because of substance or personal issues – seek closure by dominating or hurting someone who’s weaker than them. Bullying can have a ripple effect that goes far beyond its immediate victims.

Would the management of Crisis – and other places where staff’s abusive behaviour isn’t very rare – if they were, for instance,  running a supermarket allow their personnel insult and abuse members of the public who walked through the door. I don’t think they would, they’d be smart enough to realise that if they did that very soon they’d be broke. And that’s the difference with a charity, here you can insult and abuse the public who walk through your door without affecting or offending the people who are keeping your purse topped-up (that is, the people who contribute to the charity’s request for donations).