“I need someone to work in the pit,” is how it all started. I volunteered myself since nobody else offered to go. Not knowing what was lying ahead through the big metal doors , I confidently followed this nice woman out front and stopped at a little ditch of cement filled with different types of hoses and mops. I volunteered at Andre House that day, a Phoenix soup kitchen for the homeless. What I had to do in “the pit” was to wash dirty pots and trays that came my way through the big doors. My job would never end since they needed the same pots and trays and used them over and over again.
I remember seeing the homeless lining up outside the gate anxiously waiting to be let in and feast on foods like beans, other types of meat and salads. The trays came in to wash before they used them and then after they used them. The homeless of all sizes and kinds were beginning to grow impatient of waiting an eternity. After a while, they were let in and after that moment of time, I began working even harder washing pots and trays by myself. It was a huge job to do alone, and that’s when I met a man. He did not have a nametag like mine, but I assumed it was because he came late and forgot to get one. He kindly offered me help, and I could not say no since the others expected me to have those dishes ready. The man was a giant, about middle-aged in his forties, tall, tannish colored skin and a short beard. He was an extreme help because he would wash the big pots and that involved hot water and soap. The nice woman came out to check up on me and offered us a five-minute break. We could not decline since we were both tired and sweaty.
I went in following the nice lady, and he left in another direction. She offered me cold bottled water, and I took it gracefully. I stood drinking the water and watched my other fellow classmates serve the hot sizzling food to the homeless. I stood listening to all the polite gestures they made when they received the sizzle. Then there he was, the man with no nametag that was helping me wash the pots and trays being served some of the delicious meal. He kindly waved to me when he saw me standing there looking at him being served. I would have never guessed that this man was homeless, nevertheless polite and well mannered. Right then and there is where I realized my family was wrong about the homeless. They said that the homeless were these old smelly people that were not polite at all. The man I met that day was none of those descriptions. He was the exact opposite of what is shown on television and the movies. This man was a kind homeless man that actually worked to receive his warm meal. I had a spectacular experience at Andre House and I cannot wait to go back again to help the homeless and their needs.