CONTENT WARNING: Mention of suicide

This is the abbreviated story of Swiss Peter’s charity to someone perhaps even stranger than himself. “Robin”* (different name) is a homeless young person who arrived in the city very recently. Somehow, the two connected and have been discussing Robin’s situation via social media DM.

Robin is sleeping in a tent. Someone vandalised the tent and stole the sleeping bag. Robin can no longer find their things; they are disorganised in the tent. They also have more medical problems than a doctor’s dictionary.

Peter: “I have sleeping bag. I give it to you. You are where?”

Robin: “Yes, I need a sleeping bag. I’m in a shelter for victims. The location is obviously a secret; I can’t meet you.”

In a social media post, Robin said they wanted to unalive themselves. Peter took this seriously. He contacted the police using a method intended for deaf people.

Police: “Police 112, what is the emergency?”

Peter: *Tries to explain, in sign.*

Police: “But what can we do with this information? We have no description. You didn’t meet them; we don’t even know they are in [City].”

Peter thought he had overreacted. Anyway, it was passed to a female police officer, who contacted him.

Police Officer: “Send me screenshots of your messages.”

Peter: *Sends pictures, not screenshots, in case Robin is alerted.*

Police Officer: “I know which shelter they mean. I will go check they are OK. Is Robin male or female?”

Peter: “I don’t know. Complex.”

Police Officer: “Pardon?”

Peter: “Queer, trans, something. Can you give my sleeping bag?”

Police Officer: “Umm… yes? Bring it to the police station.”

Armed with Peter’s sleeping bag, she went to the shelter to find Robin, of unknown gender. Maybe Robin is not okay and needs to be taken into care. Robin could not be found. Peter did more research. Robin has been involved with police, mental hospitals, and children’s services, and posted about it. They often reject help.

Seeing this, Peter changes strategy. Don’t chase someone with help they don’t want. Talk to them like your friend, not a patient. Then he sees someone giving away a tent and an inflatable bed.

Peter: “Robin. Good day?”

Robin: “I’m at [Hospital] because I tried to finish things.”

Peter: “Oh? How is hospital?”

Robin: “Too noisy.”

Peter: “You want this?” *Sends link to tent.*

Robin: “That would be nice.”

Peter: “Is there anything else you need? Clothes washed? White chocolate?”

Peter collected the tent and inflatable bed.

Peter: “I have the tent. Where are you?”

Robin: *Making excuses.*

Peter remembers the mindset of who he is dealing with. Mental health patients often do not think clearly.

Peter: “This. Is. Simple. You said you want tent; you take tent. Where are you? Public place, daylight, bring friend.”

Robin: *Gives location, at homeless charity.*

Peter went to that location. He met Robin. Robin is AMAB, assigned male at birth, identifies as nonbinary or female and doesn’t care about pronouns. They discussed Robin’s background, needs, and solutions. He hands over the tent… making an excuse about a delayed sleeping bag.

Robin: “I am dangerous. To me. I can jump off that [five-level building for parking].”

Peter remembers normal answers have not worked. Also, he is just a stranger. He doesn’t have to talk like a doctor.

Peter: “If jump, who takes your body?”

Robin: “What?”

Peter: “Police, maybe doctor, find dead man. You. Who is family? Wife, children? You said, have none.”

Robin: “…”

Peter: “I ask again. Who takes body? Is John Doe. Cremation. it burns. Ashes. No dignity. Why do this?”

It has been some weeks. Peter and Robin are still in contact. Peter’s confrontational, depressing description of a homeless man’s dead body changed Robin. He is more motivated to handle challenges. To my knowledge, he did not attempt to unalive himself again.

Peter himself became a running joke for unknown gender. If someone might be androgynous, intersex, trans, or queer and we cannot find out, we say “ask Peter.” 

Then, he sent this email to the first police officer in this story:

Peter: “Can I have my sleeping bag back? Give to Robin.”

Related:
No Bad Beef On His Watch!
Avoca-Do The Right Thing
No Dry Officers On His Watch!
No Bobs Left Behind On His Watch!
No Lapses In Security On His Watch!
No Neglected Post On His Watch!
No Accident K’Boom Explode On His Watch!

Customer: “What do you mean I can’t use my cheque?”

Cashier: “We don’t accept cheques. You can pay with a card or cash, Swiss francs or Euros.”

Customer: “But why isn’t it marked somewhere?”

Cashier: “We’ve never had cheques in Switzerland. We don’t use them.”

Customer: “What do you mean you’ve never had them? You should still mark it somewhere!”

He leaves, abandoning his food.

Cashier: *To me.* “We don’t accept payment in nuts or rocks either, maybe we should mark that somewhere?”

I moved from the UK to Switzerland to do my doctorate. As part of the process, I get a letter stating that I need to do some modules to “catch up” my knowledge, with a list of about five to ten modules. I think this is odd, but I will discuss it with my supervisor when I start.

Well, I show him the letter, and he is really shocked by the number of modules. One or two is normal from unknown universities where there is a knowledge gap the university wants addressed, but I graduated from a well-known British one so it shouldn’t be a problem.

It turns out the admissions office of the university was confused about my master’s degree as I did an MSci, not MSc. The difference is that it is an extra year is tacked onto the end of your undergrad without ending the degree, so you can still use the government student loans for your Master’s year. However, it is still following the undergraduate calendar, so it is worth fewer credits even though it is still a Master’s.

Therefore, the admissions office saw the lower number of credits and decided that while I had the necessary Master’s, as they wouldn’t allow a student to study just from an undergrad degree, I needed to do the same number of credits to make up the shortfall, but while I was doing my doctorate.

It wouldn’t have been a problem, but they were a full semester’s worth of studying, and as my supervisor said, “you’re here for a doctorate in the lab, not half a Master’s in the lecture hall.” He told me he would sort it out.

How did he do it? By having a very long, loud and animated conversation with the dean of studies saying “either you accept she has a Master’s, and she is ready for the doctorate and so doesn’t need to do credits for the sake of a number, or she doesn’t have an acceptable Master’s in which case you need to accept her as a Master’s student until she is ready for the doctorate I want her to do.”

My supervisor won, and all the credit requirements were dropped.

A friend of mine is a firefighter. They are called to a fire in a garage. They arrive, and the owner is outside.

Firefighters: “Are there any dangerous items in the garage?”

Homeowner: “No, nothing dangerous.”

So, the firefighters go inside, open the car, and take it outside to put out the fire.

Shortly after going outside, they hear explosions. They check the tyres. It wasn’t the tyres.

Radio: “GAS! GAS!”

Four gas cylinders were stored at the back of the garage.

Firefighters: “Did you know they were there?”

Homeowner: “Yes, but I didn’t know they were dangerous.”

The firefighters were perplexed.

Homeowner: “Well, we put them under the barbecue. It’s fireproof, isn’t it?”

They explained to him the difference in temperature between a barbecue fire and a garage being on fire.

Our lab has a small office/lab space away from the main area where three of us work. One day, we start getting calls to speak to someone in another lab about a job. As we don’t have the correct number ending (all numbers for the building start the same, but differ by a few digits to get to the correct office), we tell them to email the person they are looking for.

However, after a few days of being interrupted more than five times a day. It’s getting pretty irritating, and we decide to look it up on the department’s web page to give them the correct number, only to find our number is listed.

We reach out to the lab (it’s a floor below) to tell them about the issue… and nothing happens for a week.

Okay, it could be IT mucking up as it is the website, but we three are not secretaries for them, so we go on a hunt for the boss’s number and start giving that to the people calling.

The day after the number has been corrected and no more phone calls, success!