“May you live in interesting times.”

What an interesting few months it has been. Had anyone told me this time last year that I would be a Support Worker in a COVID-19 shelter for homeless people, I probably would have laughed over my Leon desk lunch, safe in the green lung of London’s Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where bad things don’t appear to happen behind the genteel facades of its law firms and barristers chambers. When unfortunate things do happen, they tend to be punctuated by non-disclosure agreements, items packed in branded boxes and then never being spoken of again.

Fast forward to mid 2020, and I was slightly stuck. No longer required by where I had been working, and being rejected for every other job I had applied for (and sometimes not even rejected, just left to wonder), I began to think about what else I could do apart from freelance BD and marketing work, which, let’s face it, wasn’t overly required by many firms last year. I was also slowly realising that the parts of the London legal industry I had worked in were often what we refer to in 2021 as “toxic work cultures”. If by nature you are a communicator and a talker, it isn’t long until you dread going into a largely silent work environment to be either a) ignored, b) micro-managed, or c) enduring a maddening combination of both.

This tends to be exacerbated by some lawyers assuming that the non-lawyers amongst them are all a bit stupid, and that business development and marketing are merely irritating distractions from their Very Important Jobs. Apparently, social media posts, news releases, legal directory submissions, brochures and marketing plans write themselves, and events just happen. If I heard the phrase “Thank you for your efforts” once, I heard it on… maybe ten occasions. Anyhow, I digress.

And so began my journey from being “the Marketing Girl” in Holborn to a very different part of London, where I now work for a homelessness charity as a Support Worker. Since I arrived back in London in October 2018, I had been struck by how many more people were and are living on the streets of the Capital. Even a quick glance around Lincoln’s Inn, the Strand, Waterloo and Kings Cross tells you that there is a massive homelessness problem here. The question was and is, what can we do about it, and is it as simple as giving people, all of whom are individuals with their own complex needs and problems, a roof over their head?

I’m here to tell you that it’s not that simple, but that we absolutely must keep trying not to fail those on the streets. Here is what I have learned so far:

A Support Worker has a difficult job to do, often for not much more than the minimum wage. If we don’t work, we don’t get paid. As with most roles (and particularly at the moment), some level of sickness is inevitable. All the clapping and banging pots in the world does not pay the living costs of a keyworker who are themselves suffering from Covid. Neither does being told that we are “doing God’s work”, or that we are “angels”, nice as this is to hear.

Support Workers get placed at risk, every day. We’re sworn at, abused and challenged. Judging from how I have been spoken to, there is also an assumption by some who work in Local Authorities that we are low-skilled and not very bright. In contrast, we’re multi-skilled. We’re listeners, first-aiders, administrators and counsellors, cleaners, problem-solvers and tea-makers. We’re team-workers and doers and the work and worry for others doesn’t stop just because your shift does. We work in buildings with insufficient cameras and ventilation. At one point, we were told to see clients outside, under a gazebo, rather than in the office, in January, to combat this problem. Oddly enough, this suggestion was not workable.

Last week, I checked in a new resident for our service. All I was told was their name and age. They were dropped at our doorstep with only a few belongings and no other details. After spending an hour with this person, a number of concerns became apparent. Only hours later were we provided with a Risk Assessment and a Psychological Evaluation to confirm that the person in question had a number of serious mental health problems – but no medication.

Worryingly, the risk assessment stated that the individual in question had threatened to stab, rape and kill a female worker at another service. It’s always a comfort to be told “no lone female working” after the event. Lesson to me – always assume the worst and don’t be naïve. And yes, I had my phone and radio with me. When I challenged the Local Authority about this incident, it was classed as an “oversight”. Our work is “appreciated”. They “apologised”, but did not seem to feel that they had been negligent. I suggested that a short call to me, just to check in, might be in order. I’m still waiting.

In addition, the Covid prevention message is just not getting through to many homeless people. Many of our service users tell us that they don’t believe in the existence of Covid, so when tests are provided, these are not taken up. Covid is often not on the radar for those in mental health crisis, those who have a myriad of other health problems or those with alcohol or drug dependency. As one of our residents said to me last week: “I’ve just given up trying to seek medical help.” Many feel judged and badly treated by hospitals, others won’t stay when they are admitted. You could say that my persuading and influencing skills have been put to the test. I have even more respect for the work of paramedics, having called more ambulances in the past few weeks than ever before. I have also become adept at begging GP surgeries for telephone appointments.

So, why did I become a Support Worker? Because I needed the change and I was impressed by the interview and selection process, which included passing an enhanced DBS check. I work in an incredible, supportive team and we all bring our different experiences to the shelter. I call them my work family. We work with other essential charities and services that I did not know existed, until recently. We keep each other going. We all had our first Covid vaccines last week and there was a good atmosphere. We even received a sticker.

We have our quick wins, our little victories and we have each other. Some clients move out after we have helped them to get back on their feet and they stay in touch. Some residents say I nag them, but then say it’s nice because it shows someone cares. They often have not had anyone to say well done, or that they are proud of them. And ultimately we do this job because we care, because we can’t all look away and say that homelessness is someone else’s problem.

I’m not sure what the future holds, but I hope that the shelter I am working in stays open and that we all stay safe. Most of all, I hope that those working on the charity frontline receive the recognition and respect that we all deserve, and that the people we work with receive this as well.

Living in interesting times certainly does not mean living in easy times, and the keyworkers on the front line all deserve something more tangible than long-forgotten applause. Adequate security cameras and ventilation would be a good start.