This Isn’t Disneyland: The Hostile Thousand-Watt Smile Guy

A couple summers ago, I interned with Alameda County Social Services at their Fremont office. The Fremont office was a bit of a dud, truth be told; imagine a shittier version of the DMV but way more intense. Alameda County has a couple of fancy social services buildings out in the East Bay … Fremont’s wasn’t one of them.

“Now serving…A…24…at window…nine.”

Just like the DMV, a familiar robotic female voice reads off numbers calling people up to various windows. New folks always wander in looking confused, and us interns first step was usually to give them a number. I worked with another intern named Angel, who was incredibly sweet and also helped give out lots of numbers while scanning documents on Self-Serve kiosks.

A lot of people came to that crumby office in Fremont. All sorts of people — insane homeless addicts, single parents, the elderly and sick, the mentally ill and disabled. You’d encounter all kinds of dispositions as well…plainly shattered individuals, down and out, barely attending to the motions, simply trying to push through all the paperwork and annoying bureaucratic measures necessary to get help.

“Now serving…B...29...at window…seven.”

Most of them applied for CalFresh, AKA food stamps, but Angel and I also assisted people with MediCal applications and helped them apply for cash aid benefits. That summer, we were the front line of the Fremont office, assisting visitors as they entered, giving them numbers, then directing them to County clerks and social workers at the windows.

Some people were angry. Angry at us. We quickly learned the golden rule of working in social services…this isn’t Disneyland. People don’t come here for a good time, or because they want to. Spend several weeks trapped in a social services office and you’ll understand that receiving government aid is not a simple pleasure cruise for conniving freeloaders. Standing in that office for hours on end, waiting for numbers to be called, you are exposed to punctured dignity and a sort-of naked shame that occasionally fermented into a sickly, rotten disappointment.

As much as we tried to help, and as much sympathy as we expressed, some of the people were just plain not nice.

“Now serving…C…34…at window…2.”

I once encountered a man who became angry when I smiled at him. I believe he asked for a CalFresh application — something I’d have to grab from the back. I must have flashed him with a quick smile and responded with something to the effect of:

“Ok, sure, I’ll be right back.”

I remember his brow furrowed (people do that when they’re pissed, right?) and he raised his voice a bit:

“Wow, you’re a real thousand-watt guy, huh?”

I thought I misheard him in the noisy, packed out office:

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Noticed your smile there,” He mimed an exaggerated wide smile, not dissimilar to how a gorilla might react to magic tricks through his glass window at the zoo.

“You don’t gotta smile at me like that. Nobody is that happy. There’s no way you’re that happy to see me, man.”

This was couple years back now, but sometimes I stop and ponder about “Thousand-Watt Smile Guy” — — the angry man himself who resented smiling and myself as the supposedly obnoxious thousand-watt smiler.

“Now serving D…36…at window…seven.”

There’s a bit to unpack here, right? I’ll try to be quick about it. First off: my smile in that moment was definitely not over the top, condescending or inappropriate. It wasn’t a big, huge smile as he strangely suggested, but more so the kind of professional, positive acknowledgment you’re meant to give someone when you’re in a service position.

I worked there for three months and never received another criticism for approaching a person with some excruciating positivity or undo friendliness. If it was a problem, and I was being some idiotic intern, someone else would have said something! I’d be aware! So what was this guys fuckin’ deal? Maybe I could write some deep stuff about the condition of the human spirit and how existentially broken this man was but forget it. I wanted to share this story because it is remarkable how such an innocuous gesture could manifest itself as an affront to a person who is insecure, hurting, or angry. It makes me think about how hurt people are, how much help they need, and how hard it can be to help them despite the best of intentions. This isn’t Disneyland.