The manager had grown up inner-city. For about a week he'd let us young people pick the brains of people who had twenty, thirty, forty years of working experience. He'd also listened patiently to ideas for changes, especially for improvement to the customer experience and ways to better our appearance that wouldn't cost much money.
He was as calm in the face of drugs in the parking lot--not okay no matter who you are--as he was visibly crossing people through the fringe: social/cultural world v. business/work day. He didn't even need to fire the crack-smoking employee. That man knew he was messing with his sobriety, head, and livelihood. But he was so "high" all he could do was recite a script of apologies, excuses, long shot other chances, and guess I'll be moving ons.
There were, already in the early 1990's, streams of grew up that way (endemic) poverty and working people merging onto the same highways of business and economy.
It wasn't but two months later that farther out from the suburbs all kinds of managers were "cleaning it up." The overall topic was tourism. The money, fenced behind a race track start, was depending on lower crime, people wanting to invest, and being civil enough to "others" to build up business. There were roadhouses (bars) that had fenced off areas where people could sleep it off, sober up, get ripped a new asshole by my old....
Stifled creatives generated ideas for groups and areas. Some people had been "out of it" (a successful America) for so long we humans were more like a bruise than real able. People donned roles in group talks, sometimes taking the lead, sometimes connecting to points and realities, and there was no shortage of "kamp" (clowning through the bitterness at another bust to boom).
"Barn raising?" An older gentleman in overalls and shit-covered boots wasn't sure if he'd heard the question properly. As coming-into-life young adults we were heartfeltly asking about how did this get here? How was that possible for people?
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