Deep, dark secret

I don't know what other folks imagine when they think of medical personnel. Sympathetic types who went into medicine to heal people? People who are selfless and giving? Money hungry misfits?

I think there is a little of all of those in most medical types. I think that it's often true that the passion that brings you to a profession very often is killed off by the reality of that profession.

One aspect of the work I do is how amazed I am at how easily medical people can be good or bad . . . without really even trying. When people who have experienced violation and abuse seek medical help, they are terribly needy . . . rightfully so. They need not only good medical response, but they need hand holding and care and compassion. Some days, it's too much to ask for a nurse or a doctor to let someone else's pain in so that the needs are met.

However, one thing I notice that always annoys me is when a doctor doesn't want to do their job and make clients suffer because they put it off thinking someone else will fill in.

Case in point . . . lately, my agency has responded to several ER calls involving child or young teen victims. And, it has been a struggle to get doctors to perform the pelvic exam necessary to complete the evidence gathering and/or medical treatment needed.

Most doctors who work in our ER are not specially trained for ER work. Most take a shift or two each month, and there are a few who work more consistently. Most ER doctors have little desire to perform gyno exams on any patient . . . less so on a child. The problem is, the longer they delay or hope they can outlast the shift and another doctor have to do it . . . the longer the child and her/his family have to wait . . . the longer law enforcement have to wait . . . and the more time the perpetrator has to come up with their cover story or leave town or harass the victim and their family.

But, this isn't confined to just ER doctors. I've had mothers tell me that when they have taken their children to their regular pediatricians, they were told that they didn't do "that kind" of exam. I'm blown away at the thought that pediatricians try to avoid going genital exams on children. Um, were all the test child dolls in medical school sans genitals?

It's just one of the frustrations of this work.

Missed the point

The other day a friend told me of her child's latest fear. The night before, as they were wrapping up the sleepy time ritual, the child became terrified. She didn't want her mother to leave her side. She tearfully explained that she was afraid someone would take her, put her in a cave, and give her bad lollipops.

My friend was at a loss. She ended up holding her child's hand until well after 1am when the child finally went to sleep.

I asked if "stranger danger" had been presented at pre-school. The mother said it had. Clearly, there is a line between teaching children caution and scaring the ever-loving crap out of them.

For pre-school aged children, I would have suggested that the school meet with all the parents and present a program of information about the realities of child safety with a discussion about steps parents can take to better supervise, select better baby sitters, and be more proactive in the overall safety of their children. If a program were presented to children, I would have wanted it to be more empowering and up beat . . . for 3 year olds.

This event followed on the heels of a story a client told me about her church's program on child abuse. She said that they showed all the women in the church a video. In the video the man she described as the "bishop" explained to the women that they way they could insure that their men not sexually abuse their baby girls was for mothers to never allow fathers to change diapers. Apparently, simply viewing a baby's genitals during a routine diaper change is enough to make any man lose all control over their passions.

Somewhere along the line, we are missing the point.

Boundaries

One of the requirements of any type of social work is to have boundaries. I have maintained that doing this sort of work is a life style choice rather than just a job. At the same time, that also means there is a fine line between being available when needed and having no boundaries.

At the same time, I will admit that I am probably harder on student interns than any other group I work with. When my agency accepts an intern, we put a lot of work into that internship. Our whole staff has to make room for helping the student have the most valuable learning experience. Students who are seeking a direct service experience must complete volunteer training before their internship semester. We also require that interns be on call during the work week during their internship semester. We do this because it is the one way we can insure that they get several opportunities to respond to ER calls. But, there are also some pretty significant responsibilities that come with this sort of work. I have to be confident that anyone representing our agency can live up to the responsibilities.

The point to all this was to wind up to a rant. Recently, I received a call from a college student seeking an internship opportunity. She called outside normal business hours. When I responded to the message on my pager, I called back and left a message that I would be in the office the next day and stressed the business hours of our office. I thought that would be hint enough.

But, within 10 minutes, she called me back by hitting redial with her caller ID. This meant that she called my home back. I explained that she'd called my home, that my message clearly asked her to call the office during office hours, and that it was inappropriate for her to call me back at home this way.

Well, several days later, and she has not called back. I have to say, it's a good thing . . . she wouldn't have gotten an internship with us anyway. I am a stickler for following simple instructions. And, I expect students to conduct themselves professionally . . . especially since they are practicing skills they will need once they start doing this work for pay.

Downward spiral

One of the questions that stumps folks doing anti-rape work is "how does someone become a sex offender?"

Several years ago, I had the misfortune to watch one of my friends go from being an upstanding citizen to a convict. I know that every sex offender has their own story and motivations. This story isn't intended to excuse his behavior, let him off the hook, or minimize the pain he caused a wide circle of people. It is merely the retelling of one story . . . not too different from gaining value from hearing survivor stories.

When I was still green behind the ears, many years ago, I met a local youth counselor. For the purposes of this story, I'll call him Fred. Fred was one of the first community people to take our training class. One of the things that impressed me is that he seemed really concerned about the few youth he worked with who were struggling with sexual idenity. This immediately made him stand out . . . in that at that time, in this small community, lots of folks didn't even want to acknowledge that homosexuality existed, much less that there might be one or two HERE.

Over the years, Fred and I ended up on quite a few committees or boards together. He was older than me by a couple of decades . . . but still seemed to relate well to troubled kids. He never married, and it seemed to me that he was kinda trapped. Looking around, I see that it is fairly difficult for people in this community with a high level of education, who "aren't from here", and super busy jobs to really find a mate. Additionally, his mother was living in his home, and having daily nursing care. A busy job, and an elderly parent doesn't leave much time for meeting dates.

Fred's mother died just about a month before my mother-in-law died. I offered him support. I made sure he had food in his frig, and included him in a few family meals. I was worried that since his mother's death, he seemed to be staying home and playing with the newest toy . . . the internet.

He started telling me about the chat rooms for troubled teens that he would go to. He said that he had a repuation in some of these rooms as someone who listened and who cared. He retold several stories of teens seeking him out because a friend was saying things that scared them (suicidal things).

I remember warning him to be very careful about how much information he gave out about himself. I warned him that he didn't want kids running away and showing up on his doorstep. He promised me that he showed the same care he did when he was working. I also urged him to get out more with his friends . . . possibly date. And, it seemed that he was being more social.

Some time went by, and we kinda fell out of touch. I still heard about his work with local youth programs . . . but we didn't see each other much anymore. One day, he called me personally to tell me that he'd referred a teen he was working with to our office and to give me some back ground ahead of time. That afternoon, a mutual friend called to tell me that he had been arrested by the state police.

The story was that he had gone to a school in a nearby district, used his professional title to check a boy out of school, took him home, and sexually assaulted him. And, that this boy wasn't the only victim. All of the boys had been "met" through the internet. Further, the state police had found all manner of illicit conversations with young boys on his computer.

I was sick to my stomach. But, not entirely surprised. I spent the weekend struggling to accept that my friend was a monster. Part of me wanted it to be all a sick joke whereas I KNEW it wasn't. I realized that families who learn of incest must have the same struggle . . . but without the benefit of the knowledge and experience I have.

Fred called me once, to ask if I could testify to his character . . . and I explained that I would have to testify that he was a molester and that I totally believed the young men who had come forward. Fred eventually plead guilty to all charges. I don't know if he is even alive still.

I learned later that when the state police started their investigation, they put a block on his email/internet account. Realizing that he was possibly in trouble, he tried to log into several other people's accounts . . . which resulted in their accounts temporarily being blocked. Also, that in an attempt to clean some of the files off his computer he tried to have one of his computer savvy client kids fix it . . . and tried to get the computer person for his work place to clean it.

I am chilled at the thought of all the kids who were "helped" by him over the years. He was like a big teddy bear. I know several adults today who swear they would not have grown up outside a jail if not for Fred. I can't help but wonder if they now look back at this person they thought was so helpful and wonderful and wonder to themselves "did he try to molest me too?" Or, are they still carrying a secret?

I believe that the proclivity for "deviant" sexual behavior was always there with Fred. I think that he was able to keep it in check . . . knowing that it was wrong . . . for years. I think his personal struggle made him a better counselor for kids who were also struggling. I think that the combination of the isolation after his mother's death, the easy access of the internet, and the types of people he was conversing with night after night made it easy for him to quiet those parts of his brain that had always held him in check all those years. I think that when he was in chat rooms with kids who were bragging about their sexuality . . . talking as kids do when they are still figuring it all out . . . that he started to adopt for himself what he thought their values were.

Don't mistake my thoughts about his behavior for acceptance or approval. I disapprove of everything he did to ruin the lives and memories of untold numbers of youth in our community. But, I think it's an interesting look into someone who seemed to actually care . . .who either fell apart, or was snowing us all.

No Pollyanna

I think I may have mentioned in passing that my real frustrations with my work isn't the client work . . . or even the administrative stuff that is so deadly dull and never done. It's the tangential stuff. Like when people just refuse to understand what we do . . . or stubbornly cling to wrong ideas about rape or rape victims simply because it would mean they have to change what gets them through the day . . . like that false sense of security.

Any way, a couple of years ago, a local organization that gives my agency a small amount of money . . . and has for quite a few years . . . sent my board a letter saying that they were concerned that if our office weren't open (read . . . if I'm not in the office) 24 hours a day, we couldn't possibly have services available 24-hours a day. Now, the funds they give us go chiefly to our direct services programming . . . including the cost of keeping our phone lines open 24 hours a day with live operators answering the lines when staff is not in the office. We are one of the few agencies in our area that has live operators 24-hours a day. There are other crisis type organizations in my community that rely on pagers activated by an answering machine . . . or over-night voice mail.

When the letter was received, my board was horrified by the utter lack of understanding about our agency and responded appropriately. And, I've come to realize that doing a bit of "self promotion" won't hurt me . . . and that perhaps I have been lazy in the PR area. We also started reporting not just calls taken, but how many were taken outside normal business hours. But, still . . . every time I am in the Emergency Room with a client in the middle of the night, I can't help but remember that letter . . . and have to fight the urge to call their office and let them know that I'm up, doing my job, and where are they?

My new years resolution this year was to find a way to let this bitterness go. I am trying. Really. One of my character flaws is that I can hold onto a grudge like you wouldn't believe . . . even when I know that I'm only hurting myself with it. Perhaps confessing it here will help me let it go.

EDITED: On a side note, my impression from the other groups we receive funds from or work closely with to provide our services is that they all think our agency is terrific and one of the better agencies in the state. Knowing this should balance how the one group regards us.

Peddlers of Bad Information

Anyone who works in the helping profession has encountered the aftermath of bad advice or information given by other, possibly well meaning, people in the profession. I just hope that people don't tell stories of things I've said that later turned out to be completely stupid. And, I will admit that lots of times, clients only hear about 1/3 of what you actually say.

So, here are some of the gems I've heard over the years.

I had a 13 year old client who had been raped by a 32 year old man who was hoping hoping hoping she'd gotten pregnant from the attack. Apparently, the only thing she remembered from the hospital experience was a nurse telling her that she would probably never be able to have children now. This girl figured that getting pregnant now might be her only chance to have a child.

I had a woman call our crisis line AFTER spending an hour on the phone with the psychic TOLL number. She actually told me that I didn't tell her anything the people she PAID THROUGH THE NOSE didn't tell her. At least call us first . . .we're free . . . then if you don't like what we tell you . . . pay someone to say the same thing.

I had a client tell me that her old counselor told her that her stress relief of listening to classical music through head phones for a short time every night made her "no better than an alcoholic" because she was just "running away from her problems into the music."

More times than I can count, clients have told me that various people have told them they need to "forgive and forget" about their abuse. I believe that forgiveness cannot be asked for unless the perp acknowledges the harm created by their actions, atones for it in a way meaningful to the victim, and changes their behavior (notice the gender neutral wording?). And I fear that forgetting the abuse is either impossible and/or dangerous.

Years ago, a politician declared that there was no need to be concerned about abortion rights for rape/incest victims because a woman could only get pregnant if they were sexually aroused . . . and if they were sexually aroused, then it wasn't rape. He claimed special knowledge because he was a doctor. In reality, he was a dentist. And, frankly, I'm wondering how good a dentist he could be with such declarations about the openings opposite the mouth. (For the record, the body is biologically programmed to respond to certain stimulation in certain ways. . . . it is entirely possible for someone who is terrified and in fear for their life to also experience the biological indicators of sexual stimulation. It doesn't mean they liked it or wanted it or consented to it.)

I had a mother of a teen victim drag her child into our office and demand that the child take back the "hateful" thing she said about her mother's boyfriend and admit it was all a "lie." The young girl had developed a yeast infection from the antibiotics given to her by the doctor to prevent many sexually transmitted infections . . . but the mother was convinced that the girl had a venereal disease and this was evidence of her child being a "slut." I photo copied the pages out of "Our Bodies, Ourselves" about yeast infections and antibiotics and told the mother that her reaction may have caused as much harm as the assault . . . because the girl had not only lost her innocence, but also her mother.

There's more . . . I'll post them as they come back to me.

Ick

One of those things I really hate happened tonight. I was having a nice mexican-ish meal with my husband . . . because in the hustle and bustle of the holidays, I've not shopped for much more than kitty litter in the past two weeks. And, a woman stopped at our table an greeted us warmly and with enthusiasm. It took me a moment to recognize her and place her. She is a local librarian I've worked with from time to time planning meetings in the library's meeting space. She and I have had several long conversations over the years . . . largely about my work. She also took a class with my husband several years ago.

Then, she introduced us to her companion or date. Unfortunately, I recognized him much more easily. His name and face have come up several times in my office because of his attraction to young children. Frankly, I'm surprised he's not in jail at the moment . . . since he's spent so much of his life there already.

I don't understand why people date felons. Especially people who commit the ickier, violent, horrible crimes. What makes people think that convicted felons won't someday commit a crime against them or their family? Even if you believe "they've done their time, now forgive them" does that mean you have to invited them into your home?

And, the real down side to being in a small town is that I can so easily recognize the scariest folks out walking around.

Bad Reputation?

I've been crazy busy with meetings and clients and a cold and year end reports.

You know how when you see pictures of yourself they often don't match up to the picture you have of yourself in your mind's eye? Or if you hear your own voice recorded it doesn't ever sound the way you think it does to you?

I some how, over the years, have developed a reputation for being really confrontational and quite the bitch. Which strikes me as funny because I think of myself as being really quite mellow and, for lack of a better term, chickenshit. I respect law enforcement . . . even if I don't always agree with them, I've never gotten up into a police officer's face or challenged one in front of a client. But, some how, stories circulate around that I have. I respect the medical staff -- and again - have NEVER openly confronted a doctor or nurse in front of a client - but yet, I have the reputation of being something of a ball buster. I've brought nurses homemade cookies in thanks for handling exceptionally difficult clients with more grace than the client was asking for with their behavior. I totally get the notion that District Attorney outranks me. How stories got started of me telling them their job is totally beyond my imagination.

In my personal life . . . I have a very quiet, comfortable, somewhat dull existence. But yet, I seem to have this rather exotic reputation of having parties and a good time and non-stop action. I have the reputation of being the local "token" feminist. That I don't take crap from my man. That I wear the pants in my house. Which is kinda a laugh because I have really overdeveloped domestic skills in reality; and my husband and I have a pretty equal relationship.

But, if people want to fear me and thus do a better job because of it . . . who am I to stop them? And if they want to imagine me jetting of to exotic places and partying with the pretty people and telling my man the score . . . . that's up to them, right?

The Business End

I've not posted lately because I've been bogged down with the business end of the crisis work.

It is amazing how quickly fortunes change in the non-profit business. Just two weeks ago, I was staying up nights wondering how I was going to make payroll if the state monies didn't come in. Now, I'm staying up wondering how I'm going to spend out all the funds of a grant by Dec. 31.

The problem is that because the state monies (which start July 1) didn't arrive until the last week of October. Being short four months worth of funds, we stopped spending on other grants. Now, we have to play catch up - but if we spend too much right at the end of a grant, it appears we had too much money. Sigh. The problem is that some of our grants reimburse us after we spend the money. So, you have to have money to spend before you can get money back. It keeps agencies honest - but it becomes really tough when other grant agencies are late on their funds.

Also, with the approach of the end of the calendar year, we have all kinds of reports due. In the interest of keeping everyone on the planet well informed of our happenings, my agency prepares monthly financial and client service stats for the board and monthly financial statements for two funders. We provide one funder with quarterly financial and client service stats reports. We provide the state with semi annual financial and client service reports. And, we provide everyone on the planet with annual reports. And, still some non-profits manage to employ criminals.

This week, while working on a holiday, I wondered how agencies whose directors are less inclined to the business end or that don't keep the tidy financial records I do manage to make these reports make sense. Maybe it's just a quirk of my nerdiness that I worry that my monthly, quarterly, semi-annual, and annual reports all add up.

I need a hobby.

Add to all the reports - the holiday season is looming - so everyone is trying to schedule their meetings, workshops, etc before thanksgiving. This year I was smart - I scheduled a bit of vacation for right after thanksgiving.

Oh, and the client I saw in the ER this week? I wasn't being uncaring - I would normally offer to hold your hand during the icky part - but I have a cold and I really didn't want you to get it. It was more caring than holding your hand. I'm sorry if you didn't feel well taken care of.

Friday Client Stories (not a fun one this time)

Because so many of the clients we serve are assaulted and abused by people we know, many of our office discussions center on relationships. Parent - child relationships, extended family relationships, acquaintance relationships, and intimate relationships.

I believe that people can get into relationship ruts. They pick the same sorts of people to be with over and over again. People go into new relationships waiting for the hurts of past relationships to pop up again. Once in a relationship, some people rehash the same arguments and scenes out over and over. People go back to people who have hurt them, over and over, somehow expecting that TODAY it will be different.

Last night, my agency responded to a client in the ER. This client had a long history of poor relationships. She says that her mother died when she was young and that her father ran out on the family. She says that they lived briefly with the grandparents - but her interpretation was that her grandmother "kicked them out" when she was 10. She had a series of foster and group homes. She was not protected or made to feel loved as a child.

She was much more concerned about being believed and how people around her would respond to her latest abuse. She talked of her history (and current habit) of self abuse.

At one point, she was visited by several relatives - two adults and a teen. The teen seemed overwhelmed by the situation and I'm not sure it was appropriate for him to be made a part of the scene. One of the adults hugged and held her - and repeatedly urged her to seek religious comfort. The other adult cried with her, held her, and whispered soothing things. It appeared to be the type of scene she craved and needed and deserved. But, I could tell that the few minutes of peace and comfort she felt wasn't enough to make up for the years of when it was lacking. And, as soon as it was over, she seemed to forget it happened.

The night ended with a scene I hate. She was on the phone with her family, pleading for someone to come pick her up from the hospital. She was detailing the hurts she'd suffered in a desperate attempt for them to believe her, and respond to her in a way she wanted. Sadly, I think the people she was talking to were incapable of being the people she dreams of them being, and I think that her own history of behaviors have worn them out too. It's all part of that rut.

When I see women in her situation, I am struck by how very lucky I was to have family members who were capable of being who and what I needed when others weren't. I also realize that one or two different decisions in my life, and I could have been in her situation rather than mine. I really think it can be just that simple for a life to be derailed.

Scary: Where is the Pedo Blogger Now?

I've been thinking about this for a while now. The Pedo Blogger (the self described pedophile who wrote a blog in which he posted his thoughts about little children, pictures of random children he took in various places, and lists of places other like minded sorts could find lots and lots of children) was run out of California.

He was run out of Washington before that.

We know that some classes of pedophiles will act out on children when they are stressed or pushed. (not an excuse, mind you - just an explanation)

So, where did he go? Whose children is he watching today? Is being run out of community after community the stress factor that will push him from world's biggest creep to bona fide criminal?

OH JOY

Life in a service providing, rural, non-profit is always hard. Providing services isn't always appreciated by the community, at least until a big case. People with money assume they will never will need our services. And, the work we do is easy to ignore or misunderstand.

We always struggle for money. We work hard to make sure we are accountable for the money we take in. We keep good financial records. We try to know about and adhere to all laws and regulations for non-profits.

But, today, I got the chance to do something that really warmed my heart. I've never done this work for the money. But, the last year has been hard enough, financially, that I find myself awake at nights worrying about money.

Today, I received a grant check in the mail. $50,000.00. It is satisfying to deposit that sum of money in our account - and know that for the next 9 months, I won't be awake nights worrying about money.

Now I can worry about other things - like why it's so hard to convince people that working to end rape is a good thing.

We know it's a problem, but . . .

Today, I found a conference on sex trafficking that I want to attend. The immigrant population of my state has grown tremendously over the last few years - and we have a hunch that there is also sexual enslavement or sex trafficking going on . . . but we don't have any true numbers. Every once in a while, a law enforcement agency busts an illegal brothel and arrests illegal immigrant women for prostitution. But we don't have any real proof of numbers and who and where they are.

And, this is one of the real problems with all sexual violence work. So many of the victims are silent or invisible, it's hard to know exactly the scope of the problem. If we don't have numbers, we can't justify the money we need to make services and assistance available.

Our local law enforcement recognizes that immigrant peoples are often targeted for crime. I think they would rather believe that those crimes are only property crimes.

sigh.

Brick Wall

We have dubbed this week the week of the brick wall. As in, hitting yo head up against it.

A co-worker attended a community forum on substance abuse thinking she could find allies for her prevention work. When someone in the audience brought up the issue of prevention, the DOCTOR on the panel said "I'm sure prevention has it's place, but it's largely ineffective." My poor co-worker was horrified that a member of the medical profession would adopt an attitude that addiction is a given if you have the genes for it - so we might as well just channel all our resources into treatment and not prevention.

Then, I attended a meeting in which many agency leaders were treated to a lecture by someone completely unqualified about our internal controls and bookkeeping practices. The person lecturing us, in the manner of a school teacher who has just caught students cheating on a test, is a board member of an agency that just faced sanctions from funders because their director was a criminal and their lack of oversight allowed it to go on for quite some time.

Oh, and we distributed cds with a positively messaged hip-hop style song urging men to take up the cause of ending rape. An employee of a local youth organization took several to hand out to the kids they serve. Today, the director of that organization stomped into our office, slammed the cds down on my desk, and declared that they would not be giving those cds to their kids. Um, because if you don't mention rape it won't happen?

A co-worker attended a lunch meeting today - and she was treated to the leader of a local non-profit substance abuse group blather on and on and on about how his organization is single handedly saving the whole world by getting two prostitutes off the street.

And, our local united way is sponsoring a "best legs" contest. They have one category for men, but three for women based on age. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it kinda sniffs of being sexist and exploitative.

Oh, and my volunteer who was on call this past weekend saw 4 clients in the er -- ranging in age from 10 months to 16 years.

Maybe we'll save the world next week. This week, I think they won.

Not just dealing with the "system" . . . .

There is a link to an example article in the title -- if you want to go there.

One of the problems with helping college students who are raped is that they aren't just reporting one crime, they are taking on a huge system - some times single handedly.

First, most rapes on a college campus involve people who know each other. Also, they quite frequently involved heavy drinking. Add into the mix the circumstances are often not the sort of activities students really relish admitting to their parents -- heavy drinking, partying, sexual games, tiny bits of clothes, hiring of strippers, porn, etc.

Second, when a student reports a rape in college, they have two judicial systems to work with most of the time - the local criminal courts and the campus judicial boards. The goals and operations of the two groups are often exactly opposed to each other, too.

Thirdly, it is nearly impossible to keep the identity of the victim or alleged perpetrator secret in such a small environment. Even when students attend schools that are small towns, this sort of gossip and information spreads quickly. People are quick to make judgements and proclaim those judgements regardless how foolish, flimsy, or ignorant their information or knowledge of the case is. Very often, the logic is something as simple as "gee, that guy sat next to me in stats class two semesters ago, and he never tried to rape me - so she must be lying." I'm not kidding - that is frequently the level of thought that goes into "on the street" judgements. It becomes even more difficult when the accused is someone well known - like a popular fraternity member or athlete.

And, lastly - at least for this post - we are often dealing with people who have self esteem issues or new to adulthood or haven't yet fully formed their values. College students often come to campus with their own childhood abuse, substance abuse, mental health, etc issues. Adding a sexual assault to the mix can sometimes lead to incredible confusion and wavering resolve about pursuing charges.

I haven't yet figured out how exactly to meet all the needs of college student clients. They have so many stresses on them to begin with - they are being asked to navigate through a very complex and sometimes contradictory system, and sometimes can't help but feel as if the whole of the university community, the fraternity system, the athletic department, and/or the whole world is against them at the same time. I'm never surprised when victims want to "stop cooperating" with the justice system. I don't blame them. No matter how often we answer the phone, hold their hands, or reassure them that they are doing the right thing - we can only be next to them - in the end, this is a battle they have to be ready for themselves. And, that's asking the world.

I "respect" Bob Herbert

As always, the link to the article in question is in the title.

I want to make up t-shirts that have " I respect Bob Herbert" on them. I don't want the cutsy heart because it would be too confusing and reek of exploitation. But, I really think this guy gets it. Not just "women's" issues - but issues concerning how some humans treat other humans.

In this article - he reacts to the Mayor of Las Vegas being nearly gleeful at the thought of how much money his city could make if they legalized prostitution. Herbert points out that in many respects, Las Vegas is the epicenter of sexual exploitation in the US. It's disheartening to think that this Mayor completely disregards the real face of sexual exploitation and prostitution in his city -- or the costs to his city because child abuse, runaways, drugs, violence, and gang activity all run in the same cesspool as prostitution and the sex work of Vegas.

This article has me envisioning the whole of Vegas sliding in to hell in the "handbasket" my grandmother use to cite -- with the Mayor like a cherry on top. sigh.

Saved, by my job

It's happened exactly twice now.

The first time, I was buzzing down a hill on a major highway when I got tagged by the cops for going a bit over the speed limit. When the officer, who I know in passing, saw it was me - he asked "do you still work over at the rape crisis center?" When I said yes - completely ready to take my ticket and behave myself, he instead said "slow down, we don't want to lose the good ones." Whew.

And today - when a local organization who likes to arrange for "speakers" for community groups wanted me to go speak to a group of bankers - fortunately, I was busy busy busy. Legitimately.

I don't mind speaking to groups - but my experience with this organization is that they aren't so much interested in what your organization does or how they could help - but patting themselves on the backs for their golf scores. I have plenty of folks who are interested in this work, and how they can help to spin my wheels talking to the walls.

Hitting the wall

I've been doing this job more than 15 and less than 20 years. In that time, I've seen some horrible stuff. I've seen the best and worst that humanity can offer up. And, most of the time I can find a way to draw on my own personality and strength to weather it. Other times, a whine or a drink puts me back on the path. But every once in a while, I hit the wall. It all piles up and I just need to blow.

I hit a wall today. I was actually rendered incoherent. Those who know me in person will understand what a huge event that would be.

Several years ago, the wall was some moron who tried to make it sound like my agency was total crap and my job and thus life were also total crap because there were water stains on our ceiling. If I'd been able to find my board president that night, I would have quit then. Enough of that crap.

More recently, the wall was our office flooding twice in the same week and the landlord or maintenance guy being totally unavailable to help me stop it or clean it up.

As you can see, the pattern is that it's never the actual job - you know, the helping people who have been shot, maimed, terrorized, or ultimately shamed that do it. It's always some fairly petty and stupid thing.

Today, it was our pagers. For the past couple of months we have been struggling with our pager company to actually provide us with the service we pay for. We have been using the same pagers with the same numbers for the ENTIRE time our agency has operated. The company we originally contracted with has changed hands more times than I can remember - but we have always dutifully paid our monthly bill and used this service. Only rarely have we ever exchanged or broken a pager. I thought we were the dream clients.

In June, we missed three crisis calls because the pagers were spotty in working. At first, we made sure it wasn't our answering service. Then, we turned to the pager company. First, we discovered that they closed their local offices and operate out of a neighboring state. Nice of them to tell us. But, they happily offered to send us new pagers to replace the sad, old ones. We got the new pagers - got them activated - and a week later, they didn't work again. They sent us yet another set of pagers - explaining that the frequency we've been using for the past many many years was shut down. The newer pagers NEVER worked. Finally, after many hours on the phone explaining the chain of events and trying to find a solution, they sent us a single pager on a whole new number with a different frequency to try. LO! it worked. So, we said send on the rest we pay for. 10 days later, we called to see why we had not gotten them -- and it was because they never sent them.

Today, having still not received promised pagers - which are crucial to the operation of our 24 hour crisis response - I called my answering service to see if they offer pagers too. They put me on with some guy who told me that my pager company may not have an office - but they do have a local rep who was really good and could probably solve my problems. He promised to put me in touch with her within 24 hours.

The fact that I've spoken to countless customer service people IN ANOTHER STATE - had multiple different stories told - total lies told to me - and they could have actually put me in touch with someone locally in the first place left me standing at my desk and saying things like

"ghhowoehnrro" and "hhnssoowleoobe"

I emailed the vice president of their company about this problem - and the moron never emailed me (or called me back). Every time I tell them I expect a credit on my account they act as if I said nothing at all. Every time they promise a call back we never get it. AND THEY HAD A LOCAL REP WHO COULD HAVE HELPED US ALL ALONG.

I still am tempted to find a new pager company because this crap is unacceptable. Or, maybe I'll go to the media. That usually renders results. ggggggggrrrrrrrrrr

When non-profits go wrong

In any population, you are going to have people who will go above and beyond for their jobs and people who will do the absolute minimum to keep their jobs and still others who will engage in unethical or immoral or criminal activities.

Unfortunately, when this sort of thing happens in a non-profit organization, everyone has an opinion, other non-profits are guilty by association, and it's tremendously difficult to live down. Scandal has rocked an organization close to mine. The director made some very poor decisions from which she and her family profited, illegally. She jumped from the ship before the depth of her actions were fully understood. Now, her agency is left to clean up the mess.

The local newspaper has run several front page articles. Local organizations are pondering their options for future funding. Everyone seems to have an opinion. And, tomorrow, the person who was elevated to the position of "interim director" is going to be forced to attend a very public event with people who donate lots of money to organizations like ours, and unfortunately will have to hold her head up while people undoubtedly will be whispering.

And, me? I have to work even harder to demonstrate that my organization is not guilty by association.

The part I hate

All things considered, I really do love what I do. I adore my volunteers and co-workers. I like my board members. I respect the law enforcement, medical staff, and prosecutor's office folks I encounter. I really appreciate most of the folks who also do this work around the state and country. For most of the clients I've seen, I can honestly say that it's a shame that this was the way I had to meet them -- because they had been violated and harmed.

When I was in Jr. High - I had a teacher tell us that we would never find a job we like 100%. I like to think I've come pretty darn close -- maybe 95%. I have looked around at what other people do - and from what I can observe, there isn't a job out there better suited to me.

However, there is one part I hate. Money. I hate having to beg for it. I hate having to explain, year after year, why the people we serve are worth the effort. I hate being treated as if I'm hauling in huge sums of money as the person in charge - or worse, as if I'm actually scamming the public. (I work really hard to keep our books in good, clean order - and to adhere to all regulations governing the documentation and use of our funds.)

Over the years, I've seen too many really excellent folks in this field leave because the money stuff just becomes too much eventually. The fact of the matter is, because most of our services are offered by volunteers - and because I've never been in it for the money - my agency provides our whole community with a 24-hour a day service that is free of charge to our clients for about 10% of what it would cost if you had to pay employees to do all the work we do - and pay a competitive wage.

That being said -- this year, my agency is conducting a brand new fund raiser -- we are trying to collect a Mile of Quarters. And, each and every donation made -- whether it is a $50 donation from a friend of mine or $3 collected by a old lady's bible group -- has warmed my heart. For so long, I thought I was "going it alone" in caring if our agency survived. And seeing how many people will open their minds, hearts, and checkbooks to our cause has really helped me see that this work really is a community effort.

But, I still hate having to prove to specific grant making entities that rape victims are worth a few bucks.