Dear James,

I was writing to say that the book you sent, "The GQ Mugging Inquest" was of immense use to me in my new job. Transitioning from night work to day hasn’t been too bad. Maybe I’m a dhampir and not a vampire. Nah, just a weirdo.

Actually, most of my job consists of walking and telling the homeless to vacate the premises post-haste. There were some homeless encounters in the past at my bouncing job, but very brief. Not so here. This place (small shopping complex) has long since had its trailblazer send word that the area is replete with places to sleep and pan handle. Most are non-violent, some are foul tempered, and you have a few utter crazy belligerent addicts on meth, crack, fentanyl, or some combination of the three. But for all it’s just a matter of imposing my will and telling them to leave. You have the regulars. And sometimes newly homeless people. And some just passing through. And it's the last category, these dollar store tom bombadils, that are the worst. They cause the most trouble since they figure they'll never see you again and are gone by the time you call for back up. Caught one wanderer gingerly washing clothes in a bathroom sink of a restaurant. Thankfully he wasn’t naked. Ha! Shoved him out immediately. Manager told me he’d never seen him before. Never will either.

So I read through the GQ book. You point out rightly that one lone dummy like me won’t solve poverty. I have to be realistic. So I don’t take it personal with these vagrants. Just a matter of moving them elsewhere. I see some others that I work with try to go berserk on them. But for what? They’ll stay away a day or two. Oh, they’ll be back. So I just keep moving it elsewhere

Another point from one of your books, “On Predation”, actually put things into perspective. That point, mentioned before, being the imposition of one’s will. So, I went in to use the bathroom in one the businesses on the property. A bland American style eatery chain that shall remain nameless, in keeping with its generic nature. When I came out I saw the manager standing outside the door. He says that they had a homeless old man snoring away at a table in the back of the place right next to the door of the back entrance. A disheveled old Santa Claus clone with very tattered clothing.

So I went back there and talk to the oneiric reveler in a slightly elevated voice. I told him to wake up. He stopped snoring and woke up. Weary-eyed he asked what I wanted. I told that I hate to be the one to disturb your sleep, but he couldn’t sleep in here. I also told him that tables are for customers. He coughed and sputtered in defiant response. Dismissing my words. I bluntly told him he had to leave. “Leave, hell!”, he said. I retort, “Hell my ass, leave for real!”, doubling down. He stares back in disbelief. “If you don’t leave I’ll have to call the cops and ban you!” I warn. He flippant responded, “I don’t give a fuck!” I said with flippancy of my own, “Yeah uh-huh, say that to them when they get here. Now leave.”

He, of course, grumbled but wouldn’t budge. My inclination, a left over from my previous jobs, was to put a choke hold on this knucklehead and throw him out. If he started asking for more trouble, then I would let him have the rest of the arsenal. But, as I thought it through, that would entail more trouble. So, knowing that this type or person (vagrant) is probably always hungry, I asked, “Listen, there’s no use causing trouble over seat, and it’s even dumber going to jail over nothing. Now I’m not a bad dude. I’ll tell you what, if I get you food next door would you leave?” He said, “Hell yeah. If I get food I’ll leave. Some food…yeah. But no Mexican shit!” I sarcastically ask, “How about chicken from that Mexican place next door? Are you really gonna be picky in your position?” He relented, realizing his ridiculous attitude, “Fine, whaeva, man.”

Situation being diffused I told him to follow me out that back door, still preparing an ace up my sleeve to pay him back for his attitude. He got up, followed me to the door, and I opened and stepped outside while holding it open for him. I said with a devilish grin, “After you sir!” After he walks past me and away from the door a good distance, I quickly go back into bland-land while slamming the door shut and locking it. Since it’s a door with windows he comes back up to it screaming while hurling invectives at me. Too bad for him. I walked away not to let him in again and to let me know if he came back to cause more problems. I went back to the door to make sure he went away. I saw him walk toward the woods behind the restaurant and vanish. Out of sight and out of mind. No way I was actually gonna get him free food so he can tell the others. Felt good to embarrass him, and it felt good to impose my will. I realized sometimes imposing your will is not always about beating the other guy into red paste, but imposing your will be other means. Especially in this lawsuit-happy land we inhabit. Anyhow, so ends another day in paradise, with your books manifesting themselves and affecting the world.

Sincerely,

Oscar

…

Oscar, I recall being told to leave a McDonald’s in Manhattan for nodding off at 4:00 AM, resulting in me sleeping on the sidewalk in between shit stains. The most embarrassing part was that the security guard was older than me! That Tom griped at the prospect of plenty, “No Mexican shit,” is a symptom of how even our hobos are now soft.

I have some tips that used to help me with moving tramps down the road:

Come up with a standard greeting that works with your voice and mind, like Mister Grey of InTheseGoingsDown starts with, “Hey, guys, what’s up.” Find something shorter. But consider keeping a question mark on it. Questioning softly is very disarming. Or, use a signature greeting: Good cops use it. The Operator, when he was a cop, would say, “Hey, Slick,” and any vagrant with half a brain heard a trainload of menace in that. Its just like BPD and NYC cops always opened with, “Hey, Chief!” Find something that is appropriate for you not having that cop power.

Talk as low as you can and still be heard, so that the conversation is just between him and you. This is respectful in one sense and intimidating in the other, requiring you to get closer.

Refer to them as “Sir.” If younger then you it works even better, like a slap. Because they know its bullshit. Remember, they have higher social status than you, all of them. They are free and you are the doorman. An old hobo has more Arуan autonomy than the butler at a mansion. When you are tired, let it bleed through in these interactions.

Don’t bring up the cops to the vagrant. Put the weight of the wretched world on your shoulders with something like, “Bro, please, I don’t need the paperwork,.” Once they get to know you, play the oppressed employee card. These guys all fled jobs. Have fun with it in spots, “What paperwork-Mall Cop?” says Tom.

“Sir, the paperwork which, well, my GED didn’t qualify for me to do, which I have to ask my Sister, who is a roided out, lesbian MMA fighter—to do for me!”

This kind of thing used to work for me, when dealing with “characters” like Old Tom.

Never raise your voice. Talk lower, and get closer.

Don’t have the manager act as back up to be a witness, which is the stock system bitch move, maybe policy for your company. These guys know all of this. Especially if he is black, the fewer spectators the better.

Eventually, not taking such precautions as a calculated thing, will internalize and show in your body language. It takes a while, but will relax you. The more relaxed, the better all such things go. You may not know it, but such encounters are more stressful to you when you know you have witnesses. You always have the camera.

When I was the Ghetto Grocer, the more my job wore on me and I hated it and was real tired all the time, the more compliance I got. These guys could see me selling off bits of my soul for THE MAN and were afraid it might be contagious. I offered a dude a job once and he almost passed out in fear and scampered off, looking over his shoulder like he had seen a demon take possession of my soul!

Once you have determined that he does not have a knife, give him a shot, showing no defensive posture. That is the only way you can use your combat tool kit, after he hits you. But, the fact that you don’t take up the safety first cop bitch pose [keep an eye on his right hand] will impress him.

Oscar, I am proud that you tricked Old Tom Clause. What I really want you to realize, is that it is not just about moving these bums down the road, but onto the other shift. Your goal should be to make your shift the time they don’t want to be there and send them to your coworker on the other shift! Just like my goal was to have the best looking aisle, your goal should be the clearest shift. Oscar, there is no C in Team! [C for coworker] If your coworkers are hot heads, send them a pain in the ass to vent at.

Thanks for the props on The GQ Mugging Inquest!

Also, thanks for the science-fiction PDFs you sent.