Laid off workers find new calling
Some whose jobs vanished in shutdown are hired by groups helping others less fortunate
P.J. Denyer never thought her career path would take her to where she is now — clocking in at 7 a.m. each day to stand in an assembly line and package meals for San Jose’s homeless residents.
Over the past five months, she’s gone from event manager at the San Jose convention center, where she’d recently received a promotion, to unemployed and slowly eating through her savings, to miraculously getting a steady paycheck once again — no matter that her new job has little to do with what she’s trained in.
Denyer, like others in the Bay Area who have lost their jobs in the pandemic, was glad to pivot.
“I’ve never been so happy to get a paycheck when we got paid for the first time,” said the 28-year-old, who now works for Hunger at Home preparing food for unhoused people sheltering in hotels during the pandemic. “I almost cried.”
The coronavirus pandemic created a social services nightmare — suddenly thousands of
Bay Area residents were without jobs and in dire need of food and emergency shelter — and local governments and nonprofits jumped in to help. By helping, they also created something needed just as desperately as meals and beds: new jobs.
Those jobs have been a lifeline for some residents.
When a union representative called 51-year-old Sonia Gomez and asked if she wanted to work in a homeless shelter, she jumped at the chance even though she’d never done anything like it before. After 26 years in room service at the Fairmont hotel in San Jose, Gomez was laid off in March — with no savings to fall back
on. Going back to work was a huge relief.
Gomez was one of 88 people hired by HomeFirst during a six-week sprint in April and May. Trying to get as many people off the streets as possible to better protect them from the virus, the nonprofit set up four new shelters in San Jose. And it needed a small army of people to staff them.
“It was a herculean effort,” said HomeFirst CEO Andrea Urton. “Our HR department was literally working around the clock.”
HomeFirst reached out to Unite Here Local 19, a union that represents event and service industry workers, many of whom lost their jobs when the economy shut down. The union offered some of its unemployed workers, and HomeFirst hired about 60.
“They turned out to be just exceptional employees,” Urton said. “Their focus is customer service — it’s what they’re trained to do. Even in difficult situations.”
Gomez and the other new shelter workers received 40 hours of training their first week in everything from crisis intervention to sexual harassment prevention. Now their responsibilities include checking guests in, answering questions and handing out hygiene supplies. But every day in a shelter brings something unexpected. Staff recently had to use CPR to get a resident breathing again after finding him collapsed in a bathroom at Parkside Hall, Urton said.
Gomez enjoys the new environment. She makes a little less than in her previous job but gets to keep her
health insurance through an agreement with the union.
“Of course, I want to get back to the Fairmont. But I’m excited because I learned a lot of things (here),” she said.
In Oakland, a program called Great Plates is providing three dozen city employees with a paycheck and a change of pace during the pandemic. Funded mostly by FEMA and administered by the city, the program — which is echoed in various forms around the state — delivers meals to seniors and others who face a high risk from COVID-19 and don’t feel safe leaving their homes. To bag and deliver the food, administrators brought back some city staffers who had been sidelined during the pandemic, everyone from library workers to parks and recreation
employees.
“It’s been a patchwork of people helping to make it happen,” said Joe DeVries, director of interdepartmental operations for the city and head of Oakland’s Great Plates program. “It’s been hard, but it’s also been extremely gratifying.”
In San Jose, Denyer had started at Hunger at Home as a volunteer, eager to fill her suddenly empty days. In June, the nonprofit won a city contract to provide meals to hotels sheltering homeless residents during the pandemic — plus funding to hire 22 people — and Denyer landed a paying job.
On Wednesdays, she helps staff Hunger at Home’s food pantry, handing out premade meals and groceries to anyone who comes by. Sometimes, the patrons are people Denyer used to work with at the
convention center.
“They’re so appreciative of the food we’re providing them,” said Denyer, who has yet to receive any unemployment benefits for the three months she spent without a job. “It’s humbling.”
After getting laid off from his job as a banquet server at the Fairmont in San Jose, 49-year-old Gil Briseno was another one of the lucky ones to get hired full time by Hunger at Home. He makes $25 an hour working in the warehouse and delivering meals.
And he’s learning new skills. He recently got a license to drive a forklift.
“It’s something new for me,” Briseno said. “I wasn’t expecting to do that at 49 years old.”