These people support youth who are at a "disadvantage."
Sure, that is a noble task in itself; however, not all of those who are at a "disadvantage" are willing to better themselves, and this organization does not work on a "case-by-case" basis that caters to individuals who have the ability and desire to move forward in their lives.
Consequently, they take an "all-across-the-boards" approach, punishing the "normal" individuals just as they would punish those who truly deserve punishment.
Furthermore, many of these "disadvantaged" kids are violent offenders, drug dealers, and other questionable types of people—people with no conscience. I have witnessed this firsthand when one of its "clients" beat me in a drunken rage (in the comfort of the newly granted subsidized apartment that belonged to one of his "friends," who would, sadly, become my roommate, who is a rat, alcoholic, a**kisser, and liar).
I hereby shall contact the Sacramento Police Department to clear out these "unlikeable" people.
I, myself, was a so-called "client" of this service. However, upon providing me with a subsidized apartment, they paired me with an alcoholic roommate who would always tell the world about my private affairs: what I do on my spare time, where am I at a certain moment, etc. He is one of the worst types of people: the type who rats you out without knowing it. He was a classic example of a kiss-a*s, which is why they kept him after kicking out most of the people in the program (in spite of his raging drinking problems, which went against the organization's rules, specifically the ones that opposed any drug use).
To him, any subject was open for discussion, even if it involved an individual's private affairs, which nobody should know about. In short, he's an intellectually stunted moron with no future who thinks it's alright to reveal people's personal lives in normal conversation. Unlike many others living in the apartment complex, I had never made noise or did harm to anybody, so the gossip that he spread with his big mouth had nothing to do with me, ultimately.
One day, this despicable roommate left the stove on for hours before I was gone. Upon my return, my girlfriend discovered that the room was filled with gas, which I wasn't able to smell due to a car accident that stripped me of my sense of smell, and we immediately turned it off and confronted my drunken roommate about it upon his arrival. Accompanied by two random, shady people, he stumbled over on the catwalk that led to the apartment and uttered incoherent and backhanded lines such as "Well, go fix it!" Go fix it!"
A few weeks later, he returned to the apartment and smashed one of the windows. I was in the bathroom at the time and heard the glass shattering. I stepped out to confront him. Once again, he uttered a series of nonsensical phrases that, to this day, I can't remember due to their incoherent nature.
Out of sheer, understandable anger, I smacked him upside the head a few times as he drunkenly lay on the couch and poured all of his vodka out in the sink, for he had broken one of the windows in my room and posed a security risk in a neighborhood teeming with Neandetherals who only care about drugs and money. To top it all off, he had already left the door open once after I had told him that I had an interview to go to and let these Neanderthals steal the very keyboard that my girlfriend had given me as a birthday present. This roommate of mine cost me a lot.
Then, the next day, one of the organization's case managers, an unrelenting, authoritarian c*** who insists on enforcing the "rules" calls me.
"Yeah, you gotta move out to your friend's apartment; thank God we're not kicking you out onto the streets!"
Uhm—for what would I get kicked out onto the streets? I wasn't the one who has been leaving stoves on, breaking windows, and leaving the front door open.
It was a cold, unexpected call; but, desperate for compromise and peace (and my livelihood) as always, I complied. I hauled all of my belongings to my friend's house over the course of an hour. Thanks for letting me know that I deserve to be on the streets for nothing, scumbags.
But, wait—isn't this "friend" of mine the very person that the case manager had instructed me to not to hang out with?
Very odd; but, because I was so concerned about my livelihood, I ignored this disgusting hypocrisy—a certain hypocrisy that had probably wished for my failure.
I remember, clearly, how this case manager showed up at the new apartment I was at—how she would barely pay me any heed upon my greeting her in a subtle act of utter disrespect. When I greeted her as any human would, she just looked around with a stiff, half-disgusted look on her face like some ignorant dog looking for his next meal without acknowledging me. What in the hell warranted this kind of reaction? I thought. Apparently, these staff had already taken my roommate's "word" and formulated an entire delusional story about me in their dim minds. They had lumped me into a category that I didn't belong in.
Worst of all, they never asked me for my side of the story. Why? Well, they only appeal to people who kiss their a*s. They just rejected me, perhaps because they opposed "intelligent" people who have astronomically more potential than the idiots, drunks, and violent Neanderthals that they serve. Like the "intelligentsia" in Russia and Germany during WWII, I was singled out. Jealousy? Bias? Delusion? Maybe all of the above.
Almost a week prior to her appearance, the other main case manager had shown up to tell me that I have to "move" without any prior notice. I was shocked, appalled, and confused. I spoke to her an hour later to tell her that I had nowhere to go. She had said, "See if your mother or your girlfriend can take you"; but, neither choice would have been possible. So, she spoke to the other case manager and told me I could stay as long as I didn't "bring people over."
I asked her, "Is there a reason for you wanting to move me?"
She said, "Yeah—we found a program that would be better for you."
There are several things wrong here. First of all, who is to decide, without my consent or input, what social program is "best" for me?
Second of all, why are you withholding information if you, "supposedly," want me to better myself? Tell me what I have done wrong and I will correct it (but, they never did).
It seemed like a further set-up for failure.
Regardless, I broke the rules and invited over a homeless friend of mine and his pregnant girlfriend on the day before Mother's Day. He was a good friend I had known for a while, a friend who seemed more intelligent than many of the Neanderthals who occupied the neighborhood, and I wanted to give a couple who had a child on the way some sort of refuge in the meantime. I was not expecting either of the two main case managers to show up on a weekend (a weekend that includes Mother's Day). My friend's girlfriend was a nice, bright lady, and I wished for them to spend the night to recuperate, for she was pregnant. Then, on the next day—Mother's Day—the worse of the two case managers unexpectedly showed up (and it was a Sunday).
My peephole was damaged and didn't work, so I would always (foolishly) open the door immediately upon hearing a knock. When I opened the door, I faced the case manager. I spoke to her briefly.
"What have you been smoking here?" she asked indignantly.
"I haven't been smoking." I had not smoked anything for four days, I thought to myself. What the hell is she talking about?
Then, she asked, "Do you have anybody here?'
"No." In this case, a lie held as much value as the truth; either way, I would be screwed. She would later chastise me for “lying” to her.
She opened the door to the bedroom and discovered the couple sleeping there.
"Alright, you guys need to get out. You too,"
"Uh—OK,"
And that was that. Then, she angrily accused me of being high and called the other case manager to simply gossip about me. She seemed to have taken my "violation of the rules" so personally and strove to give me as much petty attitude as possible—on Mother's Day, a day when I housed a pregnant homeless woman and, yes, had a mother myself.
She held the phone to her ear and started to rant with a haughty tone that made her the victim. "Yeah, uh—he's high, and he's really giving me attitude. He's taking his sweet time to gather his stuff and is lollygagging. I was going to let him stay at his former roommate's house, but he really riled me up,"
By "riling her up," she meant, "confronting her about her incorrectly and vulgarly accusing me of being 'high,’ standing up for the truth and my basic rights that include those involving privacy while sifting through a four-foot pile of clothing and belongings in my closet.”
"We gave you this place to live, free of charge!" What you're doing now cancels out what you've done in the past, I thought. Plus, you moved to me the apartment that belongs to someone you didn't want me to "hang out with." I could give a s**t about what you did if it, ultimately, wasn’t for the right thing. “Oh, and you listen to a kiss-a*s rat who breaks windows, leaves stoves on, and talks about people’s personal lives.”
Alas, I didn't voice any opposition. Once again, I was so desperate for compromise that I just agreed to pack up my "immediate" belongings and leave. Having just been hired for a job (like any responsible person with potential), I told them about my new opportunity, and all they had to offer was this: a shower in the main office of the apartment complex at 7 AM each morning, twenty-five miles away from my upcoming job.
"Yeah, you can sleep outside of your workplace and come over!" said the Satan-worshipping case manager who had just shown up. Yeah, you can kiss my a*s from twenty-five miles away. I’m the only person in this drab, rundown apartment complex with talents and goals, and you don’t want me to advance. Clearly, either you don’t know who I am, or you do, but have some sort of unwarranted problem with me.
Jealousy? Ignorance? A little bit too much gossip on the part of a homosexual alcoholic who has the tolerance of a 14-year-old anorexic, damages property, puts lives at risk, and gives people a hard time by talking about their personal lives, treating the topic like it’s the weather? You decide, folks. I’m done here.
Fortunately, I ended up moving to another state to reunite with my closest friend and lover, rejecting the subsequent phone calls they made in an attempt to "check up" on me. I got a high-paying job that outweights any of the jobs that these "social workers" and their pathetic clients have.
These cretins are disingenuous, selective, and presumptuous at best. May God have mercy on their souls. I am doing way better than they are right now, and that's how it's supposed to be.
Bye, now.
Call up the organization’s number and ask about “Starr.” She’s the one who showed up at my door to kick me and the pregnant couple out.
Wind Youth Services Reviews
These people support youth who are at a "disadvantage."
Sure, that is a noble task in itself; however, not all of those who are at a "disadvantage" are willing to better themselves, and this organization does not work on a "case-by-case" basis that caters to individuals who have the ability and desire to move forward in their lives.
Consequently, they take an "all-across-the-boards" approach, punishing the "normal" individuals just as they would punish those who truly deserve punishment.
Furthermore, many of these "disadvantaged" kids are violent offenders, drug dealers, and other questionable types of people—people with no conscience. I have witnessed this firsthand when one of its "clients" beat me in a drunken rage (in the comfort of the newly granted subsidized apartment that belonged to one of his "friends," who would, sadly, become my roommate, who is a rat, alcoholic, a**kisser, and liar).
I hereby shall contact the Sacramento Police Department to clear out these "unlikeable" people.
I, myself, was a so-called "client" of this service. However, upon providing me with a subsidized apartment, they paired me with an alcoholic roommate who would always tell the world about my private affairs: what I do on my spare time, where am I at a certain moment, etc. He is one of the worst types of people: the type who rats you out without knowing it. He was a classic example of a kiss-a*s, which is why they kept him after kicking out most of the people in the program (in spite of his raging drinking problems, which went against the organization's rules, specifically the ones that opposed any drug use).
To him, any subject was open for discussion, even if it involved an individual's private affairs, which nobody should know about. In short, he's an intellectually stunted moron with no future who thinks it's alright to reveal people's personal lives in normal conversation. Unlike many others living in the apartment complex, I had never made noise or did harm to anybody, so the gossip that he spread with his big mouth had nothing to do with me, ultimately.
One day, this despicable roommate left the stove on for hours before I was gone. Upon my return, my girlfriend discovered that the room was filled with gas, which I wasn't able to smell due to a car accident that stripped me of my sense of smell, and we immediately turned it off and confronted my drunken roommate about it upon his arrival. Accompanied by two random, shady people, he stumbled over on the catwalk that led to the apartment and uttered incoherent and backhanded lines such as "Well, go fix it!" Go fix it!"
A few weeks later, he returned to the apartment and smashed one of the windows. I was in the bathroom at the time and heard the glass shattering. I stepped out to confront him. Once again, he uttered a series of nonsensical phrases that, to this day, I can't remember due to their incoherent nature.
Out of sheer, understandable anger, I smacked him upside the head a few times as he drunkenly lay on the couch and poured all of his vodka out in the sink, for he had broken one of the windows in my room and posed a security risk in a neighborhood teeming with Neandetherals who only care about drugs and money. To top it all off, he had already left the door open once after I had told him that I had an interview to go to and let these Neanderthals steal the very keyboard that my girlfriend had given me as a birthday present. This roommate of mine cost me a lot.
Then, the next day, one of the organization's case managers, an unrelenting, authoritarian c*** who insists on enforcing the "rules" calls me.
"Yeah, you gotta move out to your friend's apartment; thank God we're not kicking you out onto the streets!"
Uhm—for what would I get kicked out onto the streets? I wasn't the one who has been leaving stoves on, breaking windows, and leaving the front door open.
It was a cold, unexpected call; but, desperate for compromise and peace (and my livelihood) as always, I complied. I hauled all of my belongings to my friend's house over the course of an hour. Thanks for letting me know that I deserve to be on the streets for nothing, scumbags.
But, wait—isn't this "friend" of mine the very person that the case manager had instructed me to not to hang out with?
Very odd; but, because I was so concerned about my livelihood, I ignored this disgusting hypocrisy—a certain hypocrisy that had probably wished for my failure.
I remember, clearly, how this case manager showed up at the new apartment I was at—how she would barely pay me any heed upon my greeting her in a subtle act of utter disrespect. When I greeted her as any human would, she just looked around with a stiff, half-disgusted look on her face like some ignorant dog looking for his next meal without acknowledging me. What in the hell warranted this kind of reaction? I thought. Apparently, these staff had already taken my roommate's "word" and formulated an entire delusional story about me in their dim minds. They had lumped me into a category that I didn't belong in.
Worst of all, they never asked me for my side of the story. Why? Well, they only appeal to people who kiss their a*s. They just rejected me, perhaps because they opposed "intelligent" people who have astronomically more potential than the idiots, drunks, and violent Neanderthals that they serve. Like the "intelligentsia" in Russia and Germany during WWII, I was singled out. Jealousy? Bias? Delusion? Maybe all of the above.
Almost a week prior to her appearance, the other main case manager had shown up to tell me that I have to "move" without any prior notice. I was shocked, appalled, and confused. I spoke to her an hour later to tell her that I had nowhere to go. She had said, "See if your mother or your girlfriend can take you"; but, neither choice would have been possible. So, she spoke to the other case manager and told me I could stay as long as I didn't "bring people over."
I asked her, "Is there a reason for you wanting to move me?"
She said, "Yeah—we found a program that would be better for you."
There are several things wrong here. First of all, who is to decide, without my consent or input, what social program is "best" for me?
Second of all, why are you withholding information if you, "supposedly," want me to better myself? Tell me what I have done wrong and I will correct it (but, they never did).
It seemed like a further set-up for failure.
Regardless, I broke the rules and invited over a homeless friend of mine and his pregnant girlfriend on the day before Mother's Day. He was a good friend I had known for a while, a friend who seemed more intelligent than many of the Neanderthals who occupied the neighborhood, and I wanted to give a couple who had a child on the way some sort of refuge in the meantime. I was not expecting either of the two main case managers to show up on a weekend (a weekend that includes Mother's Day). My friend's girlfriend was a nice, bright lady, and I wished for them to spend the night to recuperate, for she was pregnant. Then, on the next day—Mother's Day—the worse of the two case managers unexpectedly showed up (and it was a Sunday).
My peephole was damaged and didn't work, so I would always (foolishly) open the door immediately upon hearing a knock. When I opened the door, I faced the case manager. I spoke to her briefly.
"What have you been smoking here?" she asked indignantly.
"I haven't been smoking." I had not smoked anything for four days, I thought to myself. What the hell is she talking about?
Then, she asked, "Do you have anybody here?'
"No." In this case, a lie held as much value as the truth; either way, I would be screwed. She would later chastise me for “lying” to her.
She opened the door to the bedroom and discovered the couple sleeping there.
"Alright, you guys need to get out. You too,"
"Uh—OK,"
And that was that. Then, she angrily accused me of being high and called the other case manager to simply gossip about me. She seemed to have taken my "violation of the rules" so personally and strove to give me as much petty attitude as possible—on Mother's Day, a day when I housed a pregnant homeless woman and, yes, had a mother myself.
She held the phone to her ear and started to rant with a haughty tone that made her the victim. "Yeah, uh—he's high, and he's really giving me attitude. He's taking his sweet time to gather his stuff and is lollygagging. I was going to let him stay at his former roommate's house, but he really riled me up,"
By "riling her up," she meant, "confronting her about her incorrectly and vulgarly accusing me of being 'high,’ standing up for the truth and my basic rights that include those involving privacy while sifting through a four-foot pile of clothing and belongings in my closet.”
"We gave you this place to live, free of charge!" What you're doing now cancels out what you've done in the past, I thought. Plus, you moved to me the apartment that belongs to someone you didn't want me to "hang out with." I could give a s**t about what you did if it, ultimately, wasn’t for the right thing. “Oh, and you listen to a kiss-a*s rat who breaks windows, leaves stoves on, and talks about people’s personal lives.”
Alas, I didn't voice any opposition. Once again, I was so desperate for compromise that I just agreed to pack up my "immediate" belongings and leave. Having just been hired for a job (like any responsible person with potential), I told them about my new opportunity, and all they had to offer was this: a shower in the main office of the apartment complex at 7 AM each morning, twenty-five miles away from my upcoming job.
"Yeah, you can sleep outside of your workplace and come over!" said the Satan-worshipping case manager who had just shown up. Yeah, you can kiss my a*s from twenty-five miles away. I’m the only person in this drab, rundown apartment complex with talents and goals, and you don’t want me to advance. Clearly, either you don’t know who I am, or you do, but have some sort of unwarranted problem with me.
Jealousy? Ignorance? A little bit too much gossip on the part of a homosexual alcoholic who has the tolerance of a 14-year-old anorexic, damages property, puts lives at risk, and gives people a hard time by talking about their personal lives, treating the topic like it’s the weather? You decide, folks. I’m done here.
Fortunately, I ended up moving to another state to reunite with my closest friend and lover, rejecting the subsequent phone calls they made in an attempt to "check up" on me. I got a high-paying job that outweights any of the jobs that these "social workers" and their pathetic clients have.
These cretins are disingenuous, selective, and presumptuous at best. May God have mercy on their souls. I am doing way better than they are right now, and that's how it's supposed to be.
Bye, now.
Call up the organization’s number and ask about “Starr.” She’s the one who showed up at my door to kick me and the pregnant couple out.