The face that greeted me, however, was far from welcoming, it was a miniature stick insect of a woman with wiry white hair and enormous glasses that emphasized her heavily wrinkled face. She blinked twice and looked me up and down. By the look on her face, she wasn’t that impressed with what she saw. “Who is it, Ethel?” She responded, “It’s some homeless woman. She looks like she needs money and a good wash.” And I thought I’d already reached the lowest point of my day.