Early birds: Social service director wants to change ideas about his office

By Timothy Pratt

Monday, Oct. 13, 2003 | 11:04 a.m.

When the front door at Clark County's main Social Service office opened onto a line of about 80 people starting to feel the rising sun's heat at 6:30 on a recent morning, Ron Howard knew exactly what to do.

"Hold on, I'm first in line," he said to the jostling crowd.

Howard held that honor because he had staked out the cold concrete benches several yards from that door at 3 a.m., when the sky was dark and the air chilled.

In his third attempt to get help paying his rent while he seeks a job driving cabs, he had joined what Social Service Director Darryl Martin calls "a culture that has developed over the years -- people think if you don't come before the office opens, you won't get seen."

The agency's director says his workers never tell people to show up before the doors open at 6:30. The idea that they should has simply spread from person to person, he said. "It's just grown, as myths often do."

And though Martin also said there has never been violence or another emergency in the early morning lines at the Pinto Lane office, the director wants to stop the practice and make it easier for people to get help from the agency.

"It can get very uncomfortable ... particularly if you're ill or if you have a child," Martin said.

Linda Lera-Randle El, who sits on the recently-formed citizens advisory committee to Social Service, said dealing with the historically long lines in the early mornings at the agency's main office is needed now that a higher number of mentally ill and potentially unstable people seem to be seeking services.

She mentioned the stabbing that occurred last December at a now-closed Social Service office in Henderson, apparently after a man had been waiting several hours to be seen.

"There are a lot of undiagnosed and untreated people trying to access services and we don't know who they are," she said. "We've already had incidents at Social Service and we don't want another."

To deal with the situation, Martin -- director for the agency since January -- headed up an experiment during three days late last month and early this month that was simple in its design but meant a lot to dozens of people. The idea: pay for overtime to deal with more cases and shorten the lines. Normal business hours are from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m., though doors open to screen people's cases at 6:30 a.m. On a recent Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, 20 workers -- about half of all front-line employees at the agency's four offices -- worked overtime at Pinto Lane until 6 p.m.

The results: About 25 percent more clients were seen, and those who normally would have to return another day were seen between 4 and 6 p.m., when the office would normally be closed.

"Each subsequent day relieved the lines -- by Friday we didn't have to turn anyone away," he said.

Faced with such obvious improvement, Martin and his staff decided to do the same thing at the end of every month, when the agency normally faces its busiest days. The experiment will continue until January, when extra staff currently being trained will be ready to work. The first effort cost about $3,000, but the total cost of this change won't be known until later this week, Martin said.

In the meantime, the lines on an early morning last week -- and the dissatisfaction -- continue.

"No threatening, loud noises or curses," Annette Morris, the agency's supervisor, said after stepping through the door and facing the line.

"I'll try to treat you with respect and ask the same," she said.

Then she divided the one line into three. Women and children, plus the sick, lined up, soon to walk through that door and get their cases screened first. A screener sees if people are at the right agency and have the right papers to show if they're eligible for the services they seek. The second line was for families needing help with rent. The third, for single people needing help with rent.

Reginald Greene, who said he has been interviewing for jobs with local municipalities but remains without an income, had walked from his apartment near Bonanza Road and D Street to the office on Pinto Lane near University Medical Center, arriving at 4 a.m..

He said the earliest bus would have dropped him off outside the office at 6:15 a.m. -- too late.

Greene was in the sick line the day before and came back to stand in the help-with-the-rent line a second day. Awaiting back surgery, Greene had already received a card for help with medical payments. Now he hoped to get up to $369 a month for rent.

Similar tales came from others in line, including Sean McVaugh, who with his wife, got on the 113 bus at Las Vegas Boulevard and Bonanza at 4 a.m., switching to the 215 and arriving to the office at 6 a.m. -- "late to try and get in line," he said.

The McVaughs, both disabled, also sought medical and rental assistance.

"If they could get more workers to handle all these cases, it would help," he said.

At 8:10 a.m., Howard emerged triumphant, bearing a to-do list that he was sure he could complete by the next day. He had also called his sister while in the office, who said she had received two messages from a cab company that needed drivers.

By 8:30 a.m. five people had already been told there weren't enough hours in the day or workers to help them. They were told to come back the following day.

One of them was a 59-year-old woman who had suffered two strokes in recent months and walked with a cane. She didn't want to give her name, for fear of facing problems on her return.

The woman had started her bus odyssey involving routes 208 and 215 at 7 a.m. and got to the office about 8:25. She had packed a lunch in case the wait was long. She sought to renew the medical assistance that paid for the insulin and other medicines she takes.

She had arrived at the office at 7 a.m. months ago when her benefits were first granted, but that was because a neighbor had given her a ride.

"Now my neighbor is on vacation," she said.

Martin said it was tough to turn people away.

"Every client that comes through is going to have a hardship," he said.

"It's difficult to tell people they have to come back.

"But once you reach your saturation point you have to make tough decisions."

Still, for Lera-Randle El, the answer to the agency's long lines does not rest solely in longer hours or more employees.

"These tough decisions have to be made with more finesse and compassion," she said. Lera-Randle El is also the director of a nonprofit that helps the homeless called Straight from the Streets.

Employees at the agency should be prepared to reach solutions tailored to each case, she said.

"These people need to be turned away with more than the tough decision. At the very least, that woman should have been given an appointment the next day, or perhaps an agency van could have taken her to another office.

"Sometimes these decisions are made with people who are on the edge, physically and psychologically -- and these decisions can push them over the edge."