Welcome to the … HOMELESS INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX.

Because if we can’t give you a home…

by God, we can give you an intake assessment.

Can’t afford an apartment?

Here’s a case manager.

Still can’t afford an apartment?

Here’s a housing navigator.

No apartment?

Here’s Coordinated Entry.

Still no apartment?

Here’s HMIS.

Still homeless?

Excellent!

Now you’re in the database.

PROGRESS!

We know exactly who you are.

Exactly why you’re homeless.

Exactly what services you’ve received.

Exactly how many times we’ve contacted you.

Exactly how many meals you’ve eaten.

Exactly how many nights you’ve slept in a shelter.

Exactly how many appointments you’ve attended.

Exactly how many referrals we’ve given you.

And exactly where you’re sleeping tonight.

Outside.

But look at that documentation!

And I’m not saying these services aren’t necessary.

Of course they’re necessary.

If somebody is living outside tonight, they need food.

They need shelter.

They need showers.

They need healthcare.

They need help.

But somewhere along the way…

we figured out how to incentivize the care… without incentivizing the exit.

That’s the magic trick.

We pay for meals served.

Shelter nights.

Contacts.

Assessments.

Referrals.

Case-management sessions.

People enrolled.

People served.

Forms completed.

Beds occupied.

Every one of those numbers goes into a report.

Every one of those numbers can help justify the next grant.

But the number that should eventually make all the other numbers go DOWN is:

HOW MANY PEOPLE GOT A HOME?

Because that was supposed to be the fucking point.

Housing.

Remember housing?

The thing this whole machine supposedly exists because people don’t have?

We’ve created a system that can measure absolutely everything that happens to a homeless person…

except whether the entire system is actually reducing homelessness.

And look at the frontline workers.

They’re doing some of the hardest work in the whole operation.

Trauma.

Mental illness.

Addiction.

Medical problems.

People in crisis.

People who’ve been outside for years.

And some of these workers are making wages where they’re looking across the desk at the client thinking:

“Buddy… if my landlord raises the rent again, save me a bunk.”

Meanwhile the organization says:

“We desperately need donations!”

“Donate socks!”

“Donate blankets!”

“Donate food!”

“Volunteer!”

“Give us money!”

So taxpayers fund the program…

the community donates the clothes…

food banks supply the food…

volunteers supply labor…

churches collect toiletries…

businesses donate supplies…

and somehow everybody is still told:

“We need more funding to address homelessness.”

At some point you’re allowed to ask:

WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THE MONEY GOING?

Because somehow America has discovered something remarkable.

It is incredibly difficult to finance one cheap room for a poor person…

but remarkably easy to finance an entire professional ecosystem dedicated to interacting with that poor person while they don’t have one.

Think about that.

We can’t make the apartment pencil out.

But apparently…

the shelter pencils out.

The intake worker pencils out.

The case manager pencils out.

The housing navigator pencils out.

The consultant pencils out.

The administrator pencils out.

The database pencils out.

The annual report pencils out.

The strategic plan pencils out.

The conference pencils out.

The catered lunch at the conference discussing why the apartment doesn’t pencil out…

PENCILS OUT!

Everything pencils out…

except the fucking housing.

And then you get to the really beautiful part…

the people actually doing the work.

The outreach workers.

The shelter staff.

The case managers.

The people cleaning the bathrooms.

Breaking up fights.

Handing out blankets.

Trying to calm somebody down at three in the morning.

And some of these people are being paid wages where they’re one bad month away from needing the same fucking services they’re providing.

Think about that.

You’ve got a case manager helping somebody apply for rental assistance…

while quietly wondering whether they’re going to make rent themselves.

Meanwhile…

go look at the executive compensation.

Now suddenly we’re not talking about survival wages anymore.

Now we’ve discovered the magical part of the nonprofit economy where somehow there’s always enough money for management.

The person handing out the blankets needs a roommate.

The person running the organization has a compensation package.

That’s efficient.

The frontline worker says:

“My rent went up $300.”

Management says:

“We understand housing insecurity is a complex, multifaceted issue.”

THANKS, BOSS.

Maybe put that in my eviction response.

And then the organization tells the public:

“We’re stretched thin.”

“We don’t have enough resources.”

“We desperately need donations.”

“We need volunteers.”

So the public donates the socks.

The churches donate the toiletries.

The food bank supplies the food.

Volunteers supply free labor.

Taxpayers fund the contracts.

And the worker making twenty-something bucks an hour is standing there thinking:

“Jesus Christ… where exactly is the money going?”

And that’s a fair question.

Because if your lowest-paid workers are hovering one step above the people they’re serving…

while management is doing very nicely…

maybe the organization should spend a little less time talking about economic vulnerability

and look down the hallway.

So we study the housing shortage.

Plan for the housing shortage.

Zone for the housing shortage.

Document the housing shortage.

Manage the housing shortage.

Provide services around the housing shortage.

Hold conferences about the housing shortage.

Hire consultants to explain the housing shortage.

Create nonprofits to respond to the housing shortage.

Create government programs to fund the nonprofits responding to the housing shortage.

Then publish reports showing how many people were served because of the housing shortage.

And then …

eight years later …

do it all again …