“If you charge me, I’m going to bring 50 homeless people here to eat the meal I have paid for”

A few Christmases ago, when I was running a homeless charity in the West End of London, we took a phone call from a businessman that I will never forget.

He was due to host a major Christmas event for 50 colleagues and clients in a prestigious local member’s club.  A number of guests were flying into London to attend, but there was a particularly cold snap and the freezing conditions meant many flights were cancelled. So he decided to postpone the event and his office contacted the club to tell them.

However, because of the late notice, the club said that they had to pay the full amount of the lunch even if no one came.

Enraged

The businessman was enraged. As a long term member who had spent thousands of pounds there, he was disgusted not to be given more flexibility. He phoned the club’s manager and said:

“If you charge me, I am going to bring 50 homeless people here to eat the meal I have paid for.”

The club manager thought he was bluffing, and reminded the businessman of the club’s dress code and that they would refuse entry to anyone intoxicated. The businessman replied:

“Nonsense, you always let me in jeans, and if you barred people who had had a drink then no one would be let in.”

And he slammed the phoned down. And then, he phoned us.

‘Posh lunch’

We were based at a church just round the corner from the club and ran a major day centre close-by where around 100 rough sleepers came every morning.  The businessman explained the situation and said:

‘So, can you guarantee me that you can bring 50 people to have this lunch?’

And we replied:

‘That will be absolutely no problem…’

And so it proved. The prospect of ‘a posh lunch’ created a fair bit of excitement and we invited 40 day centre clients and 10 residents of the care home we ran for men with serious alcohol addictions.

Tense

On the day, I turned up at the club early to meet the businessman and help prepare. Amid the plush décor and festive decorations, there was a tense atmosphere. The businessman was still seething and swearing a lot and was agitated about the standard of service. At one point he gathered the staff together and said aggressively:

‘It doesn’t matter who they are – you make sure you treat these people like f****** kings. I mean it, F****** KINGS.’

I tried to calm him down. The mix of his antagonism and the nervousness of the staff was not exactly creating a positive atmosphere.

Joy

But as soon as our guests arrived, everything changed. In short, they brought the joy. Our day centre clients, who were almost all rough sleepers came in, some looking a bit sheepish, some grateful and others playing up to the ‘la-di-da’ venue. 

‘This is alright’

‘Classy joint…my kinda place.’

And our residents from the care home had got dressed up for the occasion, buying second-hand suits and looking very smart. It was a beautiful thing to see men whose lives had been so damaged by addiction arriving looking so dignified.

My favourite bit was seeing all of our guests having their coats taken off their backs by the club staff as they arrived. Some resisted anyone trying to take their coat but others played up to it

‘Oi Jon, why don’t we get this treatment at the day centre?’

‘Be careful with that Mister, that is my favourite coat’.

No one was drunk, rude or caused any problems at all. And everyone loved the starters, the classy Christmas lunch with all the trimmings and delicious desert.  It was a great afternoon that many enjoyed talking about for years afterwards.   

Motives

There was something of Jesus’ parable about a great banquet where none of the invited guests come so they go out into the highways and byways and invited in the poor and disabled.

But it was also one of the most stark illustrations of mixed motives that I have ever experienced. After all, the businessman had not conceived the idea due to goodwill and generosity, but out of retribution and retaliation. He wanted to get back at the club and thought that involving the homeless might be a good way to do it. I wondered if he was a little disappointed how well his new guests had behaved.

Motives matter

As the meal drew to a close over coffee and chocolate mints, we said our thanks and goodbyes.  Our guests collected their coats, some returned to their care home and many others to the cold streets.

The businessman shook my hand and handed me his business card. His agitation seemed to have been replaced by a warm glow of festive benevolence and he said:

‘Jon, this has been great. Let’s do it every year, we’ll make it an annual event’.

I would like to report that this was the start of a great partnership. But sadly not. I emailed him the next day but I never heard back. I tried again a few weeks later and then again a few months later, but heard nothing.  His festive glow didn’t last long.

Motives are often complex – but they do matter. Do we help others out of genuine concern for their well-being or because it suits our agenda?

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Please watch this short film about how Andrew escaped homelessness through the charity I now work for, Hope into Action: