CHAPTER 4. SOCIAL WORK 46
get a second of a motion to that effect at the union meeting. I asked my boss about it and he felt that the clients received too much already. I pointed out that grocery budgets were made up by dietitians who fed "the average family" and there was no such thing. Italians would not eat grits and oatmeal. They wanted wine and spaghetti, and so with all kinds of people; they wanted certain kinds of food and would not eat a "statistical menu". I wrote a letter to all of the county officials concerned telling them that I would not accept my $5 a month raise, but would return it to the county treasurer unless the budget of the clients was increased 5%. Twice I went to the office of my boss with this letter and he was not in his office. Twice my knees shook and I was weak at the stomach, for it was more difficult to argue with a boss who was friendly and oppose him on a fundamental issue than it was to call Stalin and the devil names. The third time the boss was in his office. "You can't do that; you put me to shame," he said. "I have already done it, and I mean to put you to shame," I replied. I returned my $2.50 each pay day and it was not long until an announcement was made that the budget of those on relief had been increased 5%. Then those who had not seconded the motion at the union meeting said "fine work, Ammon." I was a delegate to the union of relief clients, The Workers Alliance.
Long before I read of the method of moral jiu jitsu, described by Gandhi, I had used it myself. When a person wishes to engage you in useless vituperation, the clear unexpected answer throws him off his base. One of the best instances occurred when a relief client who had been sentenced to 30 days in the House of Correction for making a relief visitor dance when he pulled out a gun, phoned the office saying: "I have another gun; send your next s.o.b. out and I'll shoot him."
"Hennacy, go make peace!" was the order given to me. This man lived far out in the country. I knocked on his door and being asked who was there I told him who I was. "Hello, you hound." "Hello, hound yourself" was my answer which was not to be found in Mary Richmond's text on social work or in the Sermon on the Mount. But each person has to be spoken to in words which they can understand. I entered the room and the man said gruffly: "I want five mattresses." "Make it six; I am a wholesaler" was my rejoinder. Obviously he did not need that many mattresses but he asked for the impossible in order to be refused and then he would start shooting. "Let's go upstairs and see what size mattresses you need," I suggested. "No body's going up my upstairs," he replied. "O.K. Less work for me," was my answer. "All right come up," he said as he led the way. I found that he only needed one mattress and told him so. He laughed and said, "I won't fight with you." And the whole thing was over. Previous visitors had stood on their dignity and were victims of his spleen.
Another time I had a quick call to visit a family where the last visitor had been thrown downstairs. In this case, as in many others, clients would run up a huge gas or light bill and demand payment. The visitor would refuse and the gas would be turned off and $5 would have to be paid to get it turned on again. A losing game, for the visitor had to order it turned on again. I went up the dark and narrow stairway and entered the room. The man was out. I saw a light and gas bill on the table and marked them "o.k." as they were not too high.
