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thesis entitled

Theft on a thin line: Examining social regularities
in a Michigan Department of Social Services Lobby

presented by

Brian N. Fry

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THEFT ON A THIN LINE:
EXAMINING SOCIAL REGULARITIES IN A
MICHIGAN DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL SERVICES

BY

Brian Nelson Fry

A THESIS

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirement
for the degree of

MASTER OF ART

Department of Sociology

1994

lABSEWUHflP
THEFT ON A THIN LINE:

EXAMINING SOCIAL REGULARITIES IN A
MICHIGAN DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL SERVICES

BY

Brian Nelson Fry

This investigation examines the interactive relationship
between structure and agency. Specifically, this study
explores one fit between Pierre Bourdieu's concepts of
habitus and field and the interactions that transpire within
a mid-Michigan Department of Social Services (DSS) lobby by
observing what Bourdieu calls social regularities. The
primary purpose of this study is to examine the usefulness of
one observation technique, with the practical aim of
explicating one way in which field researchers can
potentially enhance their observations by interpreting them
through theoretical frameworks sensitive to the
agency/ structure nexus. Hence, the following analysis is
best understood as suggestive in nature, designed to
illuminate methodological issues, not to generalize or
explain the experiences of those sitting in the Michigan

Department of Social Services lobby.

To My Parents
Harvey and Barbara Fry
who introduced me to the source of all

knowledge and truth: Jesus Christ

iii

ACWGKWHJHMMKENTS

I would like to especially thank Marion McCoy for her
direction and assistance in preparing this paper. Her
feedback, from beginning to end, has challenged me to dig
deeper and has served as a source of encouragement. I would
also like to thank my committee members for their insights
and seasoned guidance: Marilyn Aronoff, Bill Ewens, and
Chris Vanderpool. Lastly, I would like to thank those people
who have supported me through their friendship and prayers:
JOdy Deur, Tom Kuecker, Harvey and Barbara Fry, and Dave and

Gayle Deur.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. INTRODUCTIouOOOOOOOOOO0.0.0.0.0000...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOI

II. ENHANCING CRITICAL THEORY THROUGH
“Inommlm WCHIOOOOCOOOOCOOOOO00.00.000.000004

III. HABITUS AND FIELD:
A RELATIONAL APPROACH TO REGULARITIES . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

IV. RESEARCH CONTEXT. ................. 15
The lobby
Methods

V. ANALISIS: THEFT ON A THIN LINE.. ...... ............28

Waiting relations

Client/Worker relations

Professionalism.and Gone on Vacation: Responses

to waiting and client/worker relations

Attire and Language
Waiting
Relationships

Data Quality

VI. CONCLUSIonOOOOOOOOOOOOOO0.0.0.0...00.0.0000000000000046

LIST OF REFERENCES .................................. .....48

INTRODUCTION

Having one's livelihood decided within the context of an
impersonal bureaucracy provides a somber, but appropriate,
setting for examining methods and theories especially attuned
to capturing the interactive relationship between agency and
structure. Specifically, this study explores one fit between
Pierre iBourdieu's concepts of habitus and field and the
interactions that transpire within a add-Michigan Department
of Social Services (DSS) lobby by observing what Bourdieu
terms social regularities. Rather than solely focusing on
these interactions (i.e., the social regularities), the
primary objective of this exploratory study examines how
observational methods illmminate the benefits of a
theoretical position that integrates structure and agency.

One objective of using qualitative methods in
exploratory’ research is to "discover important questions,
processes, and relationships, not to test them” (Marshall and
Rossman 1989, p. 43). The investigation presented here is
decidedly exploratory in nature, an exercise in observation.
The primary purpose of this study is to examine the
usefulness of one observation technique, with the practical
aim of explicating one way in which field researchers can
potentially enhance their observations by interpreting them
through theoretical frameworks sensitive to the
agency/structure nexus. Consequently, the following analysis

is best understood as suggestive in nature, designed to

1

2
illuminate methodological issues, not to generalize or

explain the experiences of those sitting in the Department of
Social Services lobby. The amount and kind of data gathered
simply cannot be used to support definitive conclusions about
the setting, but instead must be limited to providing
considerations in the area of observations and theoretical
implications.

Before examining some of the assumptions that underpin
social regularities, it is important to clarify the reasons
why I chose to examine social regularities, and the
techniques used to observe them, in the first place.
Sociologists disagree as to where human agency belongs in
their analyses.1 Consequently, many of their methodological
positions stem from the side of the dichotomy they choose to
embrace. That is, those who focus on agency are often more
oriented toward qualitative studies of the micro-level, while
those who concentrate on structure direct the bulk of their
attention toward the macro-level with the help of statistics.
While this is an oversimplification of the current

arrangement, it seems to capture its essence.2

 

1 This is not to imply that sociologists can, or should, strive for
consensus in the discipline. In fact, the theoretical framework that
undergirds much of this research argues that variety, not uniformity,
can act as a safeguard against various biases and ethnocentrisms.

2 Paralleling agency and structure with micro and macro levels
(respectively) is achieved at the costly price of exclusion. That is,
agency can apply to collectivities (macro) that act, and structure can
include micro structures, such as those included in human interactions.
”Thus both agency and structure can refer to either micro-level or
macro-level phenomena or to both” (Ritzer 1992, pp. 568-569).
Consequently, for the sake of linking methodology to the
agency/structure debate, the price of exclusion will be absorbed.

3
When controversy swirls around a methodological issue,

the literature tends to reify the constructs of agency and
structure, requiring that their followers stand up and defend
their choices. Rather than directly enter the debate, some
have opted to engage it by rejecting it. Pierre Bourdieu
attempts to transcend what he considers to be the false
oppositions of subjectivity and objectivity by providing a
theoretical and conceptual framework useful for analyzing the
relational nature of social phenomena. While this may not
always be his direct objective (Bourdieu 1989, pp. 14-15;
Bourdieu 1990, p. 34), the concepts of field and habitus
allow him to dissolve the dichotomy between agency and
structure and instead link social structures to actions
(Adkins and Emmison 1992, p. 309).

Researchers who have interpreted their field work within
theoretical frameworks designed to synthesize structure and
agency (e.g. , Aronoff and Gunter 1992, Adkins and Emison
1992) have produced analyses especially sensitive to how
social structures constrain and enable people's actions.
Examining Bourdieu's concept of social regularities, and how
these regularities are observed, can provide an initial
evaluation of Bourdieu's theory and its compatibility with
field work. Given these objectives, this paper is organized
into five interrelated sections. I begin by arguing that
social regularities, if observed from a variety of reflexive
standpoints, can enhance critical theory. I then review how

Bourdieu's use of habitus and field may help to highlight

4
these social regularities. The third section details a

description of the setting and methodology, and the
limitations of the research design, while the fourth section
involves an analysis of the data derived from observations,
expounding upon Bourdieu ' s approach where applicable. An
assessment of the limitations of this study and a discussion
of future directions for research comprises the final
section.
ENHANCING CRITICAL THEOR! THROUGH
METHODOLOGICAL ANARCHI3

Two purposes direct this section. First, I intend to
make an initial case for the importance of regularities by
arguing that, unlike structuralism and constructivism, this
approach places researchers at the intersection of agency and
structure, providing them with a vantage point conducive to
linking the two. Secondly, I propose that focusing on
regularities can provide a more humanitarian outlook if field
research is conducted from a variety of reflexive
standpoints.

The dialectical relationship between field and habitus
is designed to capture social regularities (practices). The
underlying assumption is that the outcome of the dialectical
relationship between agency and structure surfaces in the
form of social regularities, as captured by the habitus/field

dialectic (Ritzer 1993, pp. 577-582). Consequently, one of

 

3 The idea of methodological anarchy was derived from Feyerabend's
thesis that science "is an essentially anarchic enterprise: theoretical
anarchism is more humanitarian and more likely to encourage progress
than its law-and-order alternatives” (1993, p. 9).

5
the aims of this exploration is to scrutinize this assumption

by examining whether social regularities do indeed capture
the interplay between structure and agency. The limited
scope of this research (to be discussed later) makes this aim
difficult to determine with any kind of certainty. Related
to this objective, however, is the issue of observation--
what are some possible ways of observing social regularities,
and can the potential of these methods be realized within the
context of field research? In sum, can this study suggest
that purely structural and purely constructivist positions
are inadequate by themselves, and consequently affirm the
methodological usefulness of capturing social regularities?
The answer is yes-- but for different reasons than one
might expect. I suggest that viewing the lobby in terms of
regularities, rather than in terms of rules or the flexing of
structural muscle, is capable of capturing the clients'
resistance to the policies and actions of the department.
Some would contend, however, that this analysis is nothing
more than a game of semantic Twister® and could have just as
well been analyzed in terms of agency and structure. If
their argument is that one can analyze regularities by
organizing it in the language of agency and structure as long
as one is attuned to the dialectic between the two, their
point is a good one. But if their argument is that focusing
on regularities does little or nothing to further our

understanding of how social structure is structurally induced

6
and personally interpreted, then perhaps this study will

persuade them to rethink their position.

Looking for regularities encourages the researcher to
look both ways-- microscopically and macroscopically. For
example, Patricia Hill Collins sensitizes us to the
inadequacy of additive models of oppression (e.g. a black
woman is oppressed because of her race and gender) by
demonstrating their inability to conceptualize individuals
who "possess varying amounts of penalty and privilege in one
historically created system" (e.g. a white woman is
privileged by her race but oppressed by her gender) (1991,
pp. 225—229). Part of this inadequacy stems from the fact
that it is grounded in either/or dichotomous thinking, which
brings in its train the practice of ranking. "The search for
certainty of this sort requires that one side of a dichotomy
be privileged while its other be denigrated. Privilege
becomes defined in relation to its other" (Collins 1991, p.
225).

A similar fault clouds approaches that are purely
structural or purely constructivist. It is not uncommon to
see structural analyses practically disregard the perceptions
of agents, or conversely, see constructivist analyses refer
to structure in only the most perfunctory ways. In outlining
Bourdieu's methodological approach, Wacquant grasps the
danger of embracing only one side of the dichotomy:

Against all forms of methodological monism that

purport to assert the ontological priority of

structure or agent, system or actor, the collective
or the individual, Bourdieu affirms the primacy of

7
relations . In his view, such dualistic

alternatives reflect a conmonsensical perception of
social reality of which sociology must rid
itself. . .Social science need not choose between
these poles, for the stuff of social reality-- of
action no less than structure, and their
intersection as history-- lies in relations
(Bourdieu and wacquant 1992, p. 15).
It is difficult to think of alternatives in light of
sociologists' tendency to marry a method (be it qualitative
or quantitative) and promising to stay with it "until death
do you part. " However, Bourdieu ' s methodological approach
encourages us to be mindful of both while still maintaining a
structural analysis that is permeable, rather than rigid.
Focusing on social regularities not only provides the
researcher with a better understanding of how activity and
structure are linked, but also encourages a more humanitarian
outlook. This quality, however, is not found in the social
regularities themselves, but rather in the methodology that
is best suited to highlight them. Because researchers are
not able to capture all of a setting's social regularities‘,
and because they interpret these regularities in different
ways, a variety of standpoints is necessitated. Not for the
sake of positivist expectations-— internal and external
validity, reliability, objectivity, etc. (Marshall and
Rossman 1989, p. l45)—- but for the sake of variety .
Encouraging a variety of standpoints facilitates a more

humanitarian approach to capturing regularities. "Variety of

opinion is necessary for objective knowledge. And a method

 

‘ This conclusion is simply based on the assumption that no observer, no
matter how skilled, is capable of recording all of the activities that
take place within a particular setting.

8
that encourages variety is also the only method that is

compatible with a humanitarian outlook” (Feyerabend 1993, p.
32). Of course, the underlying assumption is that looking
for regularities encourages more variety than other methods.
Standpoint theorists argue that all knowledge is socially
situated, and that the standpoint of women (or feminism)
produces less partial and distorted views of social reality
(Harding 1992, pp. 119-135). Among other factors, this
conclusion rests on the conviction that women are "strangers
to the social order" and that by cultivating their
marginality they are able to "provide empirically and
theoretically better accounts than can be generated from the
perspective of the dominant ideology, which cannot see. . .
conflicts and contradictions as clues to the possibility of
better explanations of nature and social life" (Harding 1992,
pp. 124-125, 133). Starting research from the standpoints of
those who " have fewer interests in ignorance about how the
social order actually works" is "especially revealing of
regularities in nature and social relations and their
underlying causal tendencies" (Harding 1992, pp. 150-151).
Because the social backgrounds of the researchers vary,
so will their concepts and perceptions (Feyerabend 1993, pp.
2-3, 52, 60-61). Consequently, standpoint researchers will
view regularities in different ways and learn different
things about the social order and about themselves. Variety
is encouraged when a plethora of reflexive standpoints are

brought to bear on a setting or group of related phenomena.

9
"Listening carefully to different voices and attending

thoughtfully to others' values and interests can enlarge our
vision and begin to correct for inevitable ethnocentrisms"
(Harding 1992, p. 152).

By uncovering their cultural values and interests,
standpoint theorists and researchers use their reflexivity as
evidence for their research results (Harding 1992, p. 162)
and forge a more "objective" view. Harding views "strong
objectivity " as an alternative to the dichotomy of value-free
objectivity and judgmental relativism, as "extending the
notion of scientific research to include systematic
examination of. . . powerful (such as cultural and background)
beliefs" (Harding 1992, p. 149, parenthesis added). In a
similar vein, Weber's concept of Verstehen, "if properly
understood. . .not only meets the requirements of a legitimate
inference in empirical science, but is indispensable in the
analysis of social phenomena" (Munch 1957, p. 31).5 Clearly,
to examine "reality" without examining the researcher' s
perception of it is to let bias and prejudice go unchecked.

What kind of methodology, then, is suitable for
capturing social regularities? Incorporating a variety of
standpoints is essential, but how is each researcher to
proceed? Shouldn't their methodologies adhere to some basic
rules? In Against Method, Feyerabend argues that: " the

events, procedures and results that constitute the sciences

 

5 Munch's conclusion, however, stems from a definition that is not
shared by all sociologists. For criticisms of Munch's reasoning, see
Baldwin & Baldwin (1978).

10
have no conmon structure, there are no elements that occur in

every scientific investigation but are missing elsewhere"
(1993, p. 1). Similarly, Kuhn (1970) and Latour (1987), by
entering the "back door of science in the making" (Latour
1987, p. 4), argue that science does not develop by
accumulation but by revolutions and resolving contests,
respectively. But without a fixed methodology, how can we be
assured that a researcher's behavior will not jeopardize the
reputations and projects of their colleagues?

The obvious answer is that we can never be sure. This
is not to say, however, that a strict methodology will
guarantee appropriate behavior. For the whole of
intellectual history demonstrates that "good and bad behavior
have coexisted with loose and rigid rules of methodology in
various tines from Abraham to Goebbels" (McCloskey 1985, p.
40). This is not to say that guidelines or suggestions can
never be voiced (I have already discussed the importance of
regularities, standpoint epistemologies, and reflexivity),
but it is important to steer clear of rules that impede a
pluralistic nethodology. The idea of a fixed method simply
"rests on too naive a view of man and his social
surroundings" (Feyerabend 1993, pp. 12, 18, 23, 33).

The argument of this section has been that focusing on
social regularities, rather than solely examining social
structure or the constructions of agents, provides a better
understanding of the structure/agency nexus. This is nothing

new. However, what is new is the notion that social

1 1
regularities provide the researcher with a better

understanding of how structures impinge upon agents and how
agents in turn interpret these constraints and seek to modify
them, consciously or unconsciously. Social regularities
point the researcher's nose in both directions.

Secondly, it has been argued that more can be learned
from social regularities when we "reclaim.self awareness as a
source of insight" (Reinharz 1991, chap. 5), and encourage
researchers to be their own nethodologist. This kind of
variety facilitates a more humanitarian outlook and acts as a
check against partial (and hence, distorting) views of social
reality that objectify and dehumanize Others (Collins 1991,
chap. 11) While this examination cannot confimm these
arguments, it does support them.

Gauging how much "support" this study provides, however,
is an entirely different question and deserves a response.
Regardless of how one measures "support," the answer (at this
point) should be "not enough." Conclusions, no matter how
well grounded, are still the conclusions of a researcher. In
other words, they are partial. And the best neans to halt
the ascendance of a partial view is to require that it scale
a mountain of other standpoints and to see how far it gets.
Approaching social reality in this way may make the climb
more difficult, but it ‘will have been worth it if our
accounts produce less partial and more humane views of the

terrain.

12

HABITUS AND FIELD:
A RELATIONAL APPROACH TO REGULARITIES

Explicating Bourdieu's design and use of habitus and
field is a dangerous undertaking when one considers the
complexity and depth of his conceptual schema, not to mention
his prolific tendencies.‘5 Recognizing this, coupled with the
space limitations inherent to an article, only a brief
overview of habitus and field and the implications of their
dialectical relationship will be presented here.7

"Habitus and field are relational in the...sense that
they function fully only in relation to one another"
(Bourdieu 1990; Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992, p. 19).
Combined, they are designed to link social structure to
agency:

...both...habitus and field designate bundles of

relations. A field consists of a set of objective,

historical relations between positions anchored in
certain forms of power (or capital), while habitus
consists of a set of historical relations

"deposited" within individual bodies in the form of

mental and corporeal schemata of perception

appreciation, and action (Bourdieu and Wacquant
The habitus is a cognitive framework that is possessed by a

group, a collective phenomenon that is assembled and

articulated through a group's network processes. To think of

 

5 Not including translations, Pierre Bourdieu has published
approximately twenty-five books and two hundred and sixty articles
(Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992, p. 2).

7 I would like to especially thank Dr. Bo Anderson for his insights into
Bourdieu's conceptual use of habitus and field. For those interested in
a detailed summary of habitus and field, the reader is directed to
Bourdieu and Wacquant's An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology (1992) or
Bourdieu's In Other Words (1990) . For an excellent example of how
Bourdieu applies the conceptual and methodological tools of habitus and
field, Bourdieu's Distinction (1984) is recommended.

13

habitus as an analog to language may help. No single
individual possesses a total comand of the English language.
However, if we were to bring every English speaking person
together, a complete conmand of the language would be
achieved. Analogously, no single individual possesses the
habitus, but only within the context of a group is the
habitus fully realized (Bo Anderson, personal comunication,
September 17, 1993). For my purposes here, however, I will
not concentrate so much on what the habitus is or how it is
structured by the field, but rather on how it operates and
reveals itself.

The term "habit" conjures up the image of something
regular, a predictable, but non-mechanical way of behaving.
Perceiving social phenomena from this vantage point moves us
away from talking about "rules" to a discussion of
regularities and strategies (Bourdieu 1990, chap. 3). Having
a "feel for the game" is nearly synonymous with strategy:

The notion of strategy is the instrument I use to
break away from the objectivist point of view and from
the action without an agent that structuralism
presupposes...It is the product of the practical sense
as the feel for the gene, for a particular,
historically determined history-- a feel which is
acquired in childhood, by taking part in social
activities. . .The good player, who is so to speak, the
gene incarnate, does at every monent what the gene
requires...It's clear that the problem should not be
discussed in terms of spontaneity and constraint,
freedom and necessity, individual and society. The
habitus as the feel for the gene is the social gane
embodied and turned into a second nature (Bourdieu

1990, pp. 62-63).

Here we see the objective positions in the social world (e.g.

class, race, gender, etc.) instilling and conditioning the

14
habitus. Once in place, the habitus serves as a filter

through which perceptions and evaluations are passed
(Bourdieu 1989, p. 19; 1970, chap. 1; 1981, chap. 11). In
many ways, then, the habitus resembles a "flexible" internal
thermostat-- monitoring and operating according to structural
influences, yet responding in ways that are not nechanical.
Bourdieu's model is an interactive one, designed to
encompass the structural and the "regularities" it
encourages-- be it in the field or habitus (internalized).
This perspective illuminates the fibers of experience that
stretch across and within a field, and contributes to a wider
understanding of how social structure shapes experience and
how this reality is perceived and interpreted.8 For example,
this attribute is evidenced in the economic field where
actors seek to improve their position by using various forms
of capital-- economic, cultural, social and symbolic.
(Bourdieu 1984; 1989, p. 17). "It is the specific logic of
the field, of what is at stake and of the type of capital
needed to play for it, which governs those properties through
which the relationship between class and practice is
established" (Bourdieu 1984, pp. 112-113). Here we see the
field structuring the habitus, and yet we also see the
habitus "constituting" the field as something meaningful,

something worth contesting or maintaining (Ritzer 1992 , p.

 

a This is not to say, however, that equal "weight" is allotted to
structure and agency. Bourdieu makes this clear: ". . .No doubt agents do
have an active apprehension of the world. . .No doubt they do construct
their vision of the world. But this construction is carried out under
structural constraints" (Bourdieu 1990, p. 130).

15
580). Keeping this dialectic in mind, this inquiry turns to

the research setting with the intention of highlighting
methodological approaches that try attempt to capture the

relational qualities of the social world.

RESEARCH CONTEXT

The research presented here originated in the Winter of
1993 as part of a qualitative field research methods course.
Along with thirteen other students and the professor, I
attended a weekly seminar to discuss issues and problems
confronting us in our respective settings. I chose to
observe the Michigan Departnent of Social Services (DSS)
lobby in a mid-Michigan county building for at least two
hours a week for approximately eight weeks, handing in my
weekly field notes to my professor for her conments and
suggestions.

The DSS lobby was primarily chosen for its clientele9, a
group in need of heat and paychecks-- two commodities that
are often in short supply in economic recessions during the
winter. The setting allowed me to observe a group of people
that I perceived as "disadvantaged, " providing ne with a
better understanding of the economic difficulties that some

people confront. The lobby also presented few problems in

 

9 By using the term "clientele" I am referring to all non-staff
individuals who are present in the lobby. While this term usually
indicates people who are receiving some form of economic assistance, I
am using it to include individuals who may have been there simply to
keep warm, etc. The fluid nature of the setting, coupled with the
limited time frame of this investigation makes it difficult to
distinguish between those receiving assistance and those who are there
for other purposes.

l6
terms of entry (i.e. permission was not needed to enter the

lobby), observations (i.e. , taking notes) and flexibility
(i.e., the lobby was open nine to five). Lastly, given the
short tine frame and the purposes of this investigation,
three attributes of this paper deserve special mention.

First, and as already mentioned, the amount of time
spent in the setting only permits me to discuss the setting
and nethodology in suggestive, not conclusive, terms.
Secondly, while a literature review of state agencies and
public assistance could have enhanced this study, its absence
is not critical to this investigation since the focus here is
on social regularities and observation nethods, not lobbies
per se. Lastly, this study could have benefited by comparing
the DSS with other large, state bureaucracies. By having a
better understanding of how the DSS lobby compares with other
large bureaucracies, I may have been able to make more
assertive and insightful conclusions.

The local Michigan Departnent of Social Services serves
a county of approximately 280,000 residents, the majority of
whom are of European origin. For example, in 1990, non-
Hispanic whites comprised 82% of the population, with non-
Hispanic blacks and Asians and Pacific Islanders comprising
10% and 3% of the population, respectively (U.S. Bureau of
the Census 1992). Also, in 1989, the median family incone in
1989 was $37,361 (U.S. Bureau of the Census 1992, STF 3A).

Identifying the "social causes" of the beliefs and

behaviors (both "good" and "bad") of DSS clientele required

17
that I also analyze my own beliefs and actions (Harding 1992,

p. 162). The research presented here, then, not only
provides a snapshot of a lobby, but a mirror as well-- a way
of reflecting on how the experiences of DSS clientele align
and diverge from my own.

It wasn't until my sixth week of observation that I
began to realize how the lobby had become more than just a
two hour block in the middle of my week. It had becone more
than sitting in a rubber made beige chair, leaning over a
brown collapsible table and taking notes. The one-way street
of observing DSS clientele was under construction, and
another lane, one ained directly at me, was being built. The
relationships, the dialogue, the laughter-- all of it--
pushed ne to examine my own behaviors. For instance, you
will soon see that the "lobby culture" systematically
siphoned dignity from the clientele through a number of
"tubes"-- hours spent waiting for a twenty-minute meeting,
locked doors, and the presence of three security guards, to
name but a few. These conditions required more than an
adhesive nemory and quick pen, but also pressed ne to analyze
the conditions that I create in my own relationships: Do I
make people wait for ne? Do I trust others or do I make than
feel like I am surrounded by locked doors and security
guards? These questions, and the observations that gave
birth to them, are unique to me-- another researcher would
not sketch the lobby as I have, ask the same questions, or

feel the impact of the lobby in quite the sane way. However,

18
I am confident that another researcher, given the same

constraints, would describe the lobby in such a way that it
would be compatible with my description (Becker 1970, p. 40).

I see this as a strength. This paper is guided by a
theme that emerged (Strauss 1991; Charmaz 1988, p. 110) and
is dependent upon my "constructions of other people's
constructions" (Geertz 1973/1988, p. 42). These qualities are
necessary if I am. to try to view the lobby fram the
clientele's perspective rather than from the agency's.
Trying to approach social relations from the devalued
perspectives of the clientele guards against the tendency to
obscure the advantages I derive from being a white, middle-
class man. By trying to see the lobby as a client would, I
was able to edge closer to what Sandra Harding calls "strong
objectivity" because 'the oppressed (the» clientele in this
case) "have fewer interests in ignorance about how the social
order actually works" (Harding 1992, p. 150).

What kind of experiences am I talking about? Without
digressing into a detailed analysis, I will describe and
explain the phenomenon that I see as central to the DSS lobby
experience. The culture“) of the setting is arrived at
through a struggle between clients and the structure of the
DSS. The struggle is over personal dignity-- the extraction,
maintenance, and reasserting of it. An analog to basketball

may help to bring the struggle into focus.

 

1° To paraphrase Geertz, culture is a web of significance that humans
themselves have spun and within which they are suspended. Analysis of
culture is thus an interpretive task, seeking the meaning created by the
"spinners" (1973/1988, p. 38).

19
In basketball, teams find themselves alternating between

the roles of offense and defense. Analogously, the clientele
and the agency also act in ways that are defensive and
offensive. For instance, the clientele's self-respect is
challenged by having to wait long hours just to see a case-
worker for a few minutes. This condition can be seen as an
offensive move by DSS, which in turn draws responses from the
clientele. By using professional behavior and attire in their
dealings with case-workers, the clientele attempt to overturn
the case-worker's narrow (as perceived by the clientele)
behavioral expectations. These responses are defensive in
the sense that they maintain the score (maintain their self-
respect), but are also offensive in that they function to
reassert their value and worth.

Though it was difficult to locate the social location of
the clients, it seemed that they were standing on one of the
lower socio-economic rungs on the Anerican ladder. From an
intersectional standpoint, their oppression is linked to
their locations within the building blocks of social
organization-— class, race, and gender. In many ways, by
responding to sone of the departnent's practices, the
clientele helped to expose these interlocking systems of
oppression (Collins 1991).

The experiences of marginalized groups have much to
teach us about how society works. By trying to interpret the
interpretations of the DSS clientele, I am presenting a view

that dominant groups may have trouble understanding or

20
accepting. Just as Marxism sees the labor process as

uncooperative and exploitative (a theory steaming from the
dominated), I am conmitted to telling a story that tries to

see the lobby the way the clientele do-- as oppressive.

The Lobby

The Michigan Department of Social Services provides a
number of services to those who qualify for assistance. For
example, depending on one's income, assets, number of
dependent children, health, and other related factors, one
may be eligible for food stamps, Aid to Families with
Dependent Children (AFDC), or some other form of assistance.
The waiting period for assistance varies considerably, from
receiving food stamps the day after an application is
submitted (in extreme energencies) to sixty days for State
Disability Assistance (Field Notes, February 2, 1993).
Though the services and the tine required to receive them
vary considerably, each service helps to bring a diverse
group of people to the department.

The DSS lobby, an adjacent snack bar, and the "hidden"
sections of case-worker offices that hem it in on three sides
are housed in the county building. The case-worker offices
are "hidden" in the sense that they cannot be seen from the
lobby, and that they can be entered only by having a case-
worker or security guard unlocking one of the three doors in
the lobby. The county building stretches the length of a

football field and a half, is about as wide as the Love Boat,

21
and in some sections, stretches about fifty feet into the

air. The brown brick building is surrounded by two parking
lots, with patches of green grass and shrubbery serving as a
buffer between the two. The lobby is nestled in the far
corner of the building, and when coupled with the offices
that surround it, occupies approximately one-half of the
building's space.

A revolving door, with a pair of hinged doors on each
side, are the main entrances into the lobby. The shape of
the room resembles a large plus (+), fat in the middle, with
short, stubby ends. The white tile floor and ceiling are
accented by three neutral colored walls and one blue wall,
with rectangular and square tables and beige rubber made
chairs arranged in fairly straight rows. The walls hold a
few posters and are spotted with three "bank teller" like
windows-— two for appointnents, and one for picking up checks
(Field notes, February, 1993).

Perhaps the most noticeable construction in the lobby is
what I call the "security island," and its inhabitants. A
semi-circle of 3' high partitions is positioned in the middle
of the lobby and holds a security guard and a case-worker
(who is occasionally "relieved" by one of the other two
security guards) in its center. It is often here where
clientele and agency stare each other in the eye (Field
notes, February, 1993).

On sone days, you can hear the hum of the ventilation

system and on a rainy day, the squeak of wet tennis shoes

22
shuffling across the floor. Near-silence is the norm, but on

certain occasions the silence is broken by a loud phone
conversation on the in-house extension phone, laughter,
greetings, a parent instructing their child to come back
and/or behave, the sound of classical music playing in the
snack bar, and about every five minutes, the calling (read
shouting) of a client's name over the intercom. The lobby
does not possess any distinct snells, but once in a while, a
whiff of coffee, body odor, or perfume, floats up your nose
(Field Notes, February, 1993). The setting which I have just
described, and the analysis that will be developed later,
were arrived at by using a specific nethodology, and it is

this to which I now turn.

Methods

I had never been in a D88 lobby before. This made for
what I term "lobby shock," otherwise known as LS. In the
beginning, I suffered from the most conmon symptoms of LS-- a
sense of being overwhelmed, an inability to understand
various behaviors and the neanings attached to them, and a
constant wrestling match with the stereotypes I held of
people receiving public assistance. Fortunately, with each
additional observation period, coupled with two interviews
and class discussions, I was able to treat the LS and began
to overcome my sense of being overwhelned.

To resolve the lobby shock I engaged in four treatments:

(1) gaining access to the lobby, (2) weekly observations, (3)

23
two interviews, and (4) classroom discussions. Combined,

these practices provided ne with the tools that enabled me
not only to describe, but to an appreciable extent, also to
interpret the silent struggle for dignity that goes on inside
of an apparently harmless lobby.

l . Gaining access to the lobby was easily achieved. The
lobby is open to the public to the extent that all are
welcome provided they are there for sone purpose related to
receiving assistance. Two of the front doors display paper
signs that read, "No Loitering" but it is difficult to
determine whether one is loitering or just waiting to have
their nane called over the intercom. The fluid nature of the
setting, coupled with the long hours of waiting, made it
difficult to distinguish between those who were waiting to
see a case-worker, and those who were simply trying to stay
warm on a cold day. In addition, the "gate keepers" of the
lobby, the security guards, posed very little threat as they
spent the bulk of their time talking with each other,
reading, or patrolling the "catacombs" that lie behind doors
one, two and three (Field notes, February 9, 1993). I
blended into the setting relatively well, often just wearing
blue jeans and a denim shirt.

2. I observed the lobby on eight different occasions,
often changing the day of the week, but rarely ever changing
the tine and length of observation (1 to 3 p.m.). I spent
the bulk of my time taking notes, with my note pad laid bare
on a table or draped over my leg. At tines, I disguised my

24
note taking by flipping through a magazine or by kicking back

in my chair and doodling on the margins. The only tine I
would completely cover up my note pad was on occasions when a
client would sit close enough, and at the right vantage
point, to be able to read my observations.

My role subtly changed over the course of the study. At
first, I functioned like a sponge, soaking up every detail,
unsure of what would be important (Field Notes, February 2,
1993). This led to complete saturation, and a distinct sense
of disorientation and boredom. Every pore of my mind seened
full, and I couldn't seem to maintain my concentration-- I
wanted to capture every article of clothing worn and every
conversation. Frustration would best describe the feelings I
had at the end of my first two observations. However, this
initial condition had its advantages, for "to know the exact
questions to study and the precise procedures for studying is
in fact to know most of the answers" (Wax 1977/1988, pp. 294-
295). I felt this way for the first two weeks, but in the
third week I caught on to what would eventually take center
stage in my analysis: the pickpocketing of clientele dignity
and their struggle to maintain it (Field Notes, February 16,
1993).

My participation in the lobby was primarily limited to
brief (approximately two minutes or less) conversations with
clientele. There is only one exception in which my
conversation unexpectedly developed into an informal

interview while the interviewee and I sorted through a box of

25
coupons. On one occasion, I asked a security guard for an

application for food stamps, and visited the snack bar (Field
Notes, February 2, 1993). Minus these exceptions, I spent my
time keeping to myself and taking notes on what I observed.
However, in many ways, my "observing behavior" also doubled
as participation. By reading a magazine or drawing in my
notebook (as they perceived me), I was simply behaving like
the majority of the clientele-- I too was waiting. Thus, in
this sense, I was also participating-- participating by
observing, and vice-versa.

Recognizing this, the impact of my role on the lobby
culture automatically cones into question. As noted above, I
had never been in a D88 lobby before. This proved to be
discouraging at the onset, but ultimately I think it provided
me with a vantage point that a current or former DSS client
could not possess. Just as Whyte, in Street Corner Society
(1955), took advantage of his status as an outsider, I too
was able to transcend certain blinders because of my outsider
status (Enerson 1988, p. 12). However, the extent to which
my outsider status hindered my observations is difficult to
ascertain. Nonetheless, I contend that my lack of
familiarity does not detract from the credibility of the
investigation. While it is impossible to say whether the
clientele were identified and described accurately (Marshall
and Rossman 1991 , p. 145), the desire to present the lobby
from their perspective has served as an additional guard

against an analysis that asks subordinated groups to

26
"replace" their "ways of knowing with the dominant group's

specialized thought" (Collins 1991, p. 229). By not "knowing
DSS inside and out," I was able to develop a number of
hypotheses independent of other researcher's constructions,
thereby producing a study almost entirely grounded in
observations, not observations and journal articles. As for
me, I experienced satisfaction and confidence in my ability
to do qualitative research when some of my hypotheses were
encouraged or supported in my formal interview, class
discussions, and returned field notes (Field Notes, April 9,
1993). Few feelings compare with the feeling that you are on
to sonething.

Observing the lobby on eight different occasions
produced 70 pages of single-spaced notes. These notes,
coupled with my instructor's conments, yielded rich data,
allowing me to construct a tentative analysis of the lobby
and the methodology. Becker (1970) notes the advantages of
using data gathered from field work:

. . .the rich data produced by field work have an

important use. They counter the twin dangers of

respondent duplicity and observer bias by making it
difficult for respondents to produce data that
uniformly support a mistaken conclusion, just as
they make it difficult for the observer to restrict

his observations so that he sees only what supports

his prejudices and expectations (p. 52).

In summary, I have little doubt that my subjects were true to
me and that I was true to them in my analysis. To suppose
that the subjects of the research were affected by my

presence and that they intentionally altered their actions is

to not only presume that they wanted to, but that they were

27
free to (Becker 1970, pp. 44—48). Whether my analysis of

this "observed truth" is properly focused will be discussed
later.

3 . As formerly mentioned, I conducted two interviews--
one formal and one informal. My formal interview was
conducted with Ms. Paterson“, a case-worker/ specialist at
DSS. Ms. Paterson, a white 45 year old woman, had been a
case-worker since 1971. She operated much like a public
relations spokesperson for D88, and provided me with
information soaked in history and experiences. However, I
wish to note that despite her public relations role, I sensed
a real genuineness and honesty in her answers-- partly
because the party line was not the staple in our interview
(Paterson 1993). In many ways, I felt "all the warmth and
personality of exchange of a conversation with the clarity
and guidelines of scientific searching" (Oakley, p. 33).

My informal interview was not only informal, but also
unplanned. During my last scheduled observation, Mindy, a
white middle-aged woman, had casually engaged me in
conversation by eliciting smiles and short quips from me by
discussing humorous incidents in the lobby. Near the end of
my observation time, I noticed her thumbing through a box of
coupons by herself. I asked if I could join her, and a forty
minute "interview" was born. I did not ask how long she had
been a D88 client, but our conversation made it clear that

she had been there long enough to know how the system works

 

11 This is a pseudonym. Names of people and locations have been changed
to maintain the anonymity of my informants.

28
(Field Notes, April 2, 1993). Mindy helped me to understand

what I could not see at the lobby-- her hone life and past
experiences.

4. Class discussions were invaluable to my project,
always forcing me to ask the questions: "Why?" and "Is there
something else at work here [in the lobby]?" My notes and
analysis were, in part, pieced together by my professor and
classmates. To them I am indebted, and their participation
undoubtedly helped me to make connections and dig deeper.
Specifically, class discussion enhanced my analysis of
informal waiting behaviors, and the dialectical approach
taken here was suggested by my professor. Though it is
impossible to trace each of their contributions, their
contributions are included (and appreciated) in my

presentation and analysis.

ANALISIS: THEFT ON A THIN LINE

Have you ever tried to walk a tightrope, and then, in
the delicate process of walking and balancing, get
pickpocketed? Probably not. I recognize the absurdity of
the question, but metaphorically, this question isn't absurd
at all-- it's very real. For DSS clientele, the tightrope and
pocket-picking work together, in many ways producing a
reduced photocopy of the macro (Burawoy 1991, pp. 274-9).
This condition, theft on a thin line, will be explicated by

illuminating my observations with a sociological highlighter.

29
The analogy of walking a thin line was derived from my

interview with the DSS specialist, Ms. Paterson. I asked
her, judging from her past cases, what kind of affect (if
any) did receiving assistance have on a client's dignity.
Her response illustrates the thinness of the line and its
quality of separating those who have from those who do not:

When you do this kind of job for that long [17

years], you realize that there's kind of a thin

line there, you know, a fine line, between somebody
that's able to have a job and those that aren't

(Paterson 1993).

I am inclined to think that the majority of the clients spend
much of their tine getting on and falling off ‘of the
tightrope, unable to manage a lengthy balancing act (Field
Notes, February 16 - April 2, 1993). This condition,
however, is not the only one they share. Not only do they
attempt to walk a thin line, but they also try to clutch
their purses and guard their back pockets at the sane tine.
However, the purses and wallets that I am referring to do not
contain money. They contain something much more valuable--
their pride, their dignity. Nevertheless, dignity and a bad
investnent do share one overarching quality-- what took a
lifetime to earn can be systematically drained.

Recognizing the limited scope and duration of my
investigation, it is difficult to describe and‘ examine the
balancing act of the clientele. Conducting more interviews
with clients would have helped ne to have a much better

understanding of how they interpret their experiences at the

department. However, the data gathered do lend themelves

30
to an analysis of the second dimension of the performance--

the theft. The lobby culture is both a condition and a
consequence of a struggle between clients and the agency, in
which clients attempt to resist the pickpocketing of their
dignity by the agency. It is to this conflict which I now
focus.

I have divided the overall struggle into two
"struggles, " each one depicting the agency's removal of pride
and the clientele's resistance to their pocket-picking.
These contests, though separated for ease of analysis, should
not be seen as separate and independent of each other.
Rather, they should be viewed as interdependent and
reinforcing of each other, just as Bourdieu's habitus and
field function in relation to each other. Specifically, the
removal of dignity is evidenced in waiting relations and

client/worker relations.

Waiting relations

It is DSS's expectation that "when a client walks
through the front door, they're in and out of here in two
hours" (Paterson 1993). This may be their goal, but this
does not seem to be their practice. The length of my
scheduled observations (two hours) made for a convenient test
of this expectation. On nunerous occasions I noted that
clients who were there before 1 p.m. (when I arrived) were
still there when I left at 3 p.m. (Field Notes, February 9 -

April 2, 1993). However, the entire blane should not be

31
directed at the agency, for clients sometimes show up without

appointnents, and at times, a number of new clients arrive on
a given day (Paterson, 1993). In general, though, I suggest
that the majority of clients waited at least two hours, and
usually longer.

I argue that this situation is grounded in status (among
other factors too nunerous to engage), with both groups
(caseworkers and clientele) acknowledging that it is the
clientele, not the caseworkers, who will wait. Status groups
are determined and stratified according to their status
situation, which is essentially a social assessment of honor
and lifestyle (Weber in Runciman 1922/1991, pp. 46-49).
Though Weber's primary purpose is to demonstrate that status
groups attempt to strengthen their economic position via
loosely structured communities, I contend that his analysis
is applicable to DSS waiting conditions. I submit that
caseworkers are conscious of the status accorded to them by
the clientele, take advantage of this inequitable state by
doing little or nothing about existing waiting conditions,
and thereby unwittingly make the status disparity even more
pronounced. However, I am not making the case for some kind
of conspiracy, but rather am asserting that perhaps waiting
relations are a natural outcome of status (and power)
inequities. I wish to stress, not so much the differences in
status situation, but the apparent lack of initiative on
behalf of the agency to modify the length of time spent

waiting. I can't help but think that if their clients were

32
from the middle-class that the waiting duration would

decrease significantly. Granted, to an extent this condition
is unavoidable given the nature of the setting and the
services offered, but to wait two or more hours to go through
an assistance application for twenty minutes seems sonewhat
excessive (Field Notes, April 9, 1993).

There is more to waiting than just the passing of time.
I have chosen to subsume the physical setting under the term
"waiting," because this too, directly influences how the
clientele feel about waiting. The chairs they sit in matter.
The floor, the tables, all of it-- may influence how the
clientele feel about their wait and about themselves.

I have already described the setting in some detail, but
I will stress the specific physical qualities that serve to
pickpocket dignity from the clientele. Perhaps it is best to
analyze the physical, not only from what is present in the
lobby, but also from what is absent. I will start with what
the lobby contains.

Briefly, the lobby is fairly clean, odorless, and very
quiet, especially considering the large number of clients
present at times (up to 55 people). However, it is clear
that the collapsible tables and rubber made chairs were not
designed for comfort or appearance. You would be hard
pressed to find this type of furniture in the office of a
doctor or church lobby, for instance. In addition, the
relatively bare walls, tiled floor, cardboard suggestion box,

intercom manners and security island may also serve as

33
additional fingers working to lift dignity from the clientele

(Field Notes, February 2 - March 16, 1993). To suggest that
these acconmodations would be more comfortable and
aesthetically pleasing if the clientele were known to be
nembers of the middle and upper-classes seems plausible.
Perhaps this can be demonstrated through a line of
questions: If the clientele belonged to a higher status
group, would they: 1) have a cardboard suggestion box; 2)
leave the walls bare (except for posters designed to make
sure you use condoms when having sex and bleach when cleaning
your hypodermic needles); 3) have tile instead of carpeting;
and 4) have collapsible tables (or at least as many as they
do)? I do not propose that the answer to all of these
questions is "no," but I do suggest that these conditions and
furnishings would be different if the clientele consisted of

individuals from the middle and upper classes.

Client/Werker relations

I hesitated to develop a separate category for the
relationships between clients and workers for the primary
reason that I did not feel that I had obtained a sufficient
amount of data. But I am no longer convinced that this is
the case for three reasons: I did observe a significant
amount of initial interactions between clients and
caseworkers at the doors leading back to the offices,
interactions (and lack of) between the security guards and

clients, and thirdly, the brief, formal interview I conducted

34
also provided me with some additional insights. I will

briefly deal with each factor.

When a client's nane was called over the intercom, they
were directed to door number one, two, or three. There they
would meet their caseworker (who often opened the locked door
from the other side), and it is here where I saw the vast
majority of interactions between clients and caseworkers.

In nest instances, female caseworkers would smile, hold
the door open for clients so as to allow them to pass through
first, and then look out into the lobby as the clients passed
through into the maze of office partitions. Male
caseworkers, on the other hand, often held the door open with
their back to the lobby, walked back to the offices first,
and would greet clients in a matter of fact tone: "Donald
Shrier? Come in." Men and women also differed significantly
in the aneunt of eye contact with clients. Wonen often looked
into the client's eyes, while nen often provided only cursory
glances (Field NOtes, February 9 - March 23, 1993).

This pattern is practically photocopied in security
guard/client relations. There were always three security
guards on duty-- two nen and a woman naned Lisa. The two
male officers often walked around together, always seeming to
"look over" the people's heads, rarely focusing on certain
individuals. Lisa however, frequently talked with clients,
often turning impatience into smiles (Field Notes, March 16,

1993). She frequently looked clients in the eye and often

35
joked with them, much the way sone waiters and waitresses do

with "their regulars."

The presence of three security guards may point to a
much larger issue. Namely, the clientele are not trusted.
The lack of trust is also evident in the construction of the
snack bar. Nearly every item that could be purchased is
placed out of the custoner's reach (Field Notes, February 2,
1993). Unfortunately, this assault on the clientele's
dignity is only one of many.

Professionalism and Gone on Vacation: Responses to
waiting and to client/worker relations

Thus far we have seen how the clientele have been robbed
of their dignity via waiting and client/worker relations, but
what are the consequences of these conditions? How do the
clientele maintain their dignity in the face of a "dignity
holdup"? I suggest that through what I term "professional"
and "vacation" behaviors, and through specific support
relationships, they resist the assaults experienced in
waiting and in client/worker relations.

The clientele did not passively sit and watch their
dignity 'wave good-bye. They resisted-- they fought back.
Whether they succeeded or not is difficult to ascertain, but
the struggle continues nevertheless. I have divided the
clientele's struggle into two coping/resistance strategies:
professional and vacation behaviors. These strategies
suggest that the clientele have internalized derivations of

their social order:

36

Cumulative exposure to certain social conditions
instills in individuals an ensmble of durable and
transposable dispositions that internalize the
necessities of the extant social environment,
inscribing inside the organism the patterned
inertia and constraints of external reality. . .An
adequate science of society must encompass both
objective regularities and the process of
internalization of objectivity whereby the
transindividual, unconscious principles of
(di)vision that agents engage in their practice are
constituted (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992, p. 12-13).

As my data indicate, clients take action in three main form:
in their attire, language, and waiting behavior (Field Notes,
February 2 - April 2, 1993). Though clothing and language
are observed within the context of waiting, I have separated

them for ease of analysis.

Attire and Language
My stereotype of what people "on assistance" looked and
dressed like was under assault from observation day number
one (Field Notes, February 2, 1993). However, it took a
nenth of observing before I noticed that outside of the lobby
doors, the DSS clientele could not be identified by their
clothing:
It just struck ne...that I would not be able to
identify DSS clientele outside of this lobby. They
look like your average person-- whatever that
ambiguous term may nean. They are a diverse group
who don't dress as if they are "poor" or in need of
assistance. Some look a little disheveled or have
trouble talking, but they are in the minority here
(Field Notes, February 22, 1993).
It is also interesting to note that my stereotype of what an
attractive woman looked like had always excluded wonen who

were "poor" or "lower class." I embarrassingly noted this:

37

...I must confess something. I have realized, for

the first tine, that my stereotype of what an

attractive woman looked like has always excluded

women who were "below" middle class. I have been
surprised, so many tines, to see many attractive
wonen here at DSS. This should not surprise me at

all, but this illustrates how my social location

has really formed my idea of where an attractive

woman is to be found, and what she probably

"should" look like (Field Notes, March 9, 1993).

Even though clients could not be identified by their clothing
outside of the lobby, they could be characterized when inside
of the lobby. They could be categorized as either a
"professional" dresser or as a casual dresser, a
"vacationer." Sone clients may have been resisting the
unprofessional setting (i.e. rubber made chairs, collapsible
tables, lengthy waiting, etc.) by acting professional, by
responding in ways contrary to the perceived expectations of
others (their caseworkers). Others dressed as if they were
on vacation-- sweats, jeans, warm-up suits, etc.

Young African Anerican women (early twenties),
undoubtedly, were the nest professionally dressed group in
the lobby. New flats, coordinated with a print dress, suit,
or knit sweater, and matching gold jewelry were favorite
combinations. Whereas young black wonen tended to dress
professionally, white nen tended to carry the accessories of
a professional or else talk in a professional manner (Field
Notes, February 2 - April 2, 1993). It wasn't unusual to see
a white man, in general, using a leather satchel or folder of

sone sort to carry their applications and other DSS

materials, or to see them addressing the security guards as

38
one would treat a fellow co-worker (Field Notes, February 22,

1993) .

At times, sone white nen employed language indicating
that they were educated and/or fornerly employed in sone type
of professional atmosphere. For instance, in talking on the
phone, some white males used a rather "learned" vocabulary.
For example: "Yes, my nane is Gary Sims...this is in
regards to...request if we could eliminate any more...this
year I've already incurred...I'm estimating about..." (Field
Notes, February 22, 1993) . However, I suggest that courtesy
is a professional use of language of sorts, and was used by
more than just white male clientele (Field Notes, February 2
- April 22, 1993). It seems that all racial-ethnic groups,
to varying degrees, exhibited professionalism by often
thanking case-workers for their time and assistance. The
notion of ungrateful recipients does not correspond with the
data I have collected (Field Notes, February 2- April 2,
1993).

All of this is not to say that the "vacationers" were
impolite or never dressed in anything but sweats and T-
shirts. Rather, their attire and language are exhibited in

ways that are best understood within the context of waiting.

Waiting
Rather than acting as "professionals," other clients
waited in more casual ways, as if they were, so to speak, on

vacation. This term is not intended to sound derogatory in

39
any way, but is nerely used as a descriptive device that I

have created, which is based on a tentative mixture of
observations and personal assumptions. These clients often
slouched in their chairs, spread their feet out, and blankly
stared at the wall or rested their head while waiting (Field
Notes, February 2 - March 23, 1993). They also dressed, as
previously noted, much more casually-- and acted in ways that
complimented their clothing style.

Vacationers tended to struggle with the waiting process
nere than professionals. That is, I contend that many of the
clientele tried very hard not to act (or be) impatient.
Every minute spent waiting was a minute reminding them of
their inability to make it financially-- and in Anerica, this
means that "something must be wrong with you." While
vacationers resisted the lengthy wait in their own ways,
their fidgeting and frequent seventh inning stretches suggest
that their strategies were not as successful as the
professionals' nethods (Field Notes, February 2 - March 23,
1993). Consequently, reinforcenents were called in for help
(e.g., they often napped, frequented the snack bar for
refreshments, and joked around with other clientele.

Whereas "professionals" would often spend their time
reading, vacationers often sat with their shoulders slumped
as if they had just finished a hard day of packing and moving
and were now resting with a Mystic juice or soda in hand.
They often stared out the window or floated into daydream

mode by staring at some part of the wall (Field Notes,

40
February 2 - March 23, 1993). It is important to remember,

however, that these generalizations are just that-- general,
and that some professionals behaved like vacationers, and
vice-versa.

However, one behavior distinctly sets vacationers apart
from professionals-- laughter. Vacationers tended to talk
louder, draw more attention to themselves, and smiled more
(Field Notes, February 22 - March 23, 1993). Acquiring an
audience was not difficult in the lobby due to the room's
generally quiet nature, and at times, it seemed as if some of
the clients almost cultivated the attention (Field Notes,
March 16, 1993). Professionals drew attention to their
actions primarily through their conversations on the phone or
by talking with their case worker. Both of these actions I
think point to a strategy of resistance.

By drawing attention to their actions, the clients may
have been trying to reclaim their dignity by regarding the
lobby as a sort of "social workplace," an environment where
interactions were carried out under the supervision of those
who signed the paychecks. "Inequalities of attention grow
out of the nest fundanental forms of social inequality and
must be understood partly as a feature of a society divided
into classes" (Derber 1983, p. 64). By defining a space in
the lobby as theirs, and acting in such a way as to maintain
their dignity (i.e. professional conversation on the phone or
joking with friends), the clientele worked to transform the

lobby from a site where pride is pickpocketed into a room

41
where they could carry out their interactions without having
to justify the "excessive attention" (as viewed by dominant
groups) that they were acquiring (Derber 1983) . This
analysis, however, should be seen only as an initial attempt
to understand a complex setting, and calls attention to the
need for more interviews with clients.

While the professionals and vacationers resisted the
waiting conditions in different ways, their divergent results
(professionals seemed to be nere resigned to their situation)
raises an interesting question: Are professionals more
accepting of their situation than vacationers because they
have internalized the structural limitations inherent to
bureaucracies, perceiving the bureaucratic machine as a
neuntain of forms, cases, and applications that cannot be
successfully resisted? Power relations, like objective
structures, function as dispositions and perceptions because
they are also internalized (Bourdieu 1985, p. 729). Is it
possible that the lobby professionals had internalized these
limitations and resisted less than vacationers because of
this structural deposit?

More like a class unconsciousness than a "class

consciousness" in the Marxist sense, the sense of

the position occupied in social space (what Erving

Goffman calls the "sense of one's place") is the

practical mastery of the social structure as a

whole that reveals itself through the sense of the

position occupied within that structure. The
categories of perception of the social world
are...the product of the internalization...of the

objective structures of social space .

Consequently, they incline agents to accept the

social world as it is, to take it for granted,

rather than rebel against it. ..The sense of one's
place, as a sense of what can or cannot "permit

42

oneself," implies a tacit acceptance of one's
place, a sense of limits...to be...respected or
expected. And it does so all the more strongly
where the conditions of existence are most rigorous
and where the reality principle most vigorously
asserts itself. (Hence the profound realism that
generally characterizes the world view of the
dominated; functioning as a sort of socially
constituted instinct of observation, it can be seen
as conservative only in terms of an external, and
therefore normative , representation of the
"objective interest" of those whan it helps to
live, or survive.) (Bourdieu 1985, pp. 728-729)

If lobby professionals have indeed internalized a different
"part" of the habitus, this would help to explain the diverse
actions of the professionals and vacationers. Secondly, this
would also support Bourdieu's assertion that the habitus is
fully realized only in the context of a group's network

processes.

Relationships

Some forms of resistance cannot be subsumed under
professional or vacation behavior. Namely, client
relationships (with each other and with their families)
transcend the categories I have created. I will focus on two
relations that deserve special mention.

It was observed that the majority of men do not
accompany their wives to DSS (Field NOtes, February 2 - April
2, 1993). Ms. Paterson, the DSS specialist, supported this:

...usually the dad doesn't want to come, and I

think for more of the reasons that we just talked

about [lack of pride, low self-esteem] a few
minutes ago. It's like, you know, he can't support

the family, it's a matter of dignity (Field Notes,
April, 1993).

43
However, if they did cone, it was clear that they'd rather be

somewhere (anywhere) else. In accompanying their wives, men
(vacationers and professionals alike) tended to distance
themselves from the entire DSS process. For instance, nen
frequently watched the kids or simply waited while their wife
met with the case worker or picked up their check (Field
Notes, February 2 - April 2, 1993). Their actions seem to
speak to the discomfort they felt in the lobby. Their
actions seemed to say, "Yeah, I'll come and do this for the
wife. I have better things to do, but I'll cone anyway."
Adopting this approach, I contend, helped them to resist the
assault on their dignity as nen who are expected to support
their families. Despite the growing acceptance of women as
bread winners, I think it is fair to say that nen, in
general, are still expected to bring hone the big paycheck.
This expectation places a significant aneunt of pressure on
men to provide for their dependents. Consequently, I suggest
that sitting in the lobby was a constant reminder to men that
sonething "was wrong with them" because "they couldn't even
support their own family."

It wasn't until the end of my study that I awakened to
another significant relationship that was present in the
lobby the entire tine-- nether/daughter (new mom)
relationships. This kind of relationship consists of a mom
(who frequently is in her late thirties to late forties) who
comes to DSS with her daughter (often in her late teens or

early twenties) who now has a child or two of her own (Field

44
Notes, March 23 - April 2, 1993). Though I have few notes on

this relationship, I can now see that this is one of the most
consistent "support" relationships at DSS. The mothers often
play with and watch the children while their daughter waits
in line. Perhaps this relationship helps to fill the void
left by nen too embarrassed to go to DSS with their wives, or
may just fill the gap left by nen long since gone. This
pattern may also suggest that extended family networks (e.g.
child care) are utilized to a fairly significant extent by
people of lower socio-economic status or that the pattern of
"older babies having babies " is inter-generational (M. McCoy,
personal conmunication, April 7, 1993).

It is difficult to tell whether these strategies
effectively bent the hoses that operated to siphon their
dignity. I have mentioned those cases where I felt success
was achieved. However, at times it was clear that the
professional act was "stretched". For instance, one man's
response simply gave it away:

A white male, 33 [years old]...is talking on the

phone [inside extension phone used to contact case

workers from within the building], "Under ADA,
under President Bush, under ex-President

Bush...I...am entitled...section...code...I'll drag

you into court and sue you for $3.5 billion (Field

Notes, February 16, 1993).

Instances such as this were rare. For the most part,
professional and vacation behavior seened to succeed to an

appreciable extent, relieving at least some of the loss

incurred from having one' s dignity continually sapped.

45
Data Quality

I previously compared participant-observation to a two-
lane highway, and as with all highways, the yellow lines do
not always prevent vehicles from driving over into the
oncoming lane. There were tines when I wanted to be
selective and only observe and record behaviors that
confirmed my hypotheses and hunches. I resisted this
impulse, and in fact, spent an entire scheduled observation
trying to undermine my hypotheses (Strauss 1991; Field Notes,
March 16, 1993). Nevertheless, it was a constant struggle to
be true to what my eyes saw. After seeing a client return
from the snack bar with two bags of Cheetos and two Mystic
Juices, I recorded the tension I felt:

I was hesitant to write that down. . .because that

kind of observation is what some people point to

and say, "See, they don't know how to save; it's

the way they are [referring to black culture, or to

poor culture]." I must report what I see. I must

guard against selective observation (Field Notes,

March 23, 1993).

All of this is not to say that I wasn't biased or selective--
all it says is that I tried. As hinted earlier, I was, and
still am, very sympathetic to the needs of poor people and
those on assistance-- even nere now. I have tried to present
the lobby as the clients see it (Becker 1970). Whether I
succeeded or not, I don't know-- only they can say. This
question of evaluation points to the need for nere interviews
with clients. Undoubtedly, my investigation would have been

sharpened if nere tine would have been spent interviewing and

just getting to know the clients. However, I am confident

46
that the dominated perspective presents a view of reality

that sharply differs from one derived from those who
dominate. Sonehow turning the container of reality on its
head (from my perspective as a young, white male) makes
everything that isn't glued to the bottom fall out. We then
get to look at and analyze the pieces that don't fit, that
don't stick. I hope this study has helped to put sone of

them together .

CONCLUSION

Considering the time limitations of this study, the
conclusions drawn seem reasonable and grounded in the data I
have collected. However, I regret that my hypotheses are not
established in nere weeks of observations, and especially in
client interviews. Secondly, throughout the course of this
inquiry I have often felt that my analysis would have been
enhanced had I been more familiar with topics in micro
sociology (e.g. Sheff 1979). More familiarity with this
literature, I think, would have enhanced my analysis of the
lobby.

However, as noted in the introduction, this has been an
exercise in observation by emphasizing social regularities,
reflexive observations, and the need for incorporating
research from a variety of standpoints. By using Bourdieu's
concepts of habitus and field (for the purpose of

highlighting social regularities), it is hoped that an

47
appreciation for observations specially attuned to social

regularities has been cultivated.

Taking the emphases of this paper as a cue, it should be
clear that more research, conducted from a variety of
standpoints, is needed. Specifically, future research in
this area (be it more methodological or descriptive) could
build upon this exploration by conducting more interviews,
particularly with clients. Secondly, future analyses may
want to avoid the dichotomies I have used, primarily because
they may fail to capture the experiences of the case-workers.
That is, while the case-workers may "oppress" their clients
in terms of making them wait, they too may be "oppressed" by
the same large bureaucracy. More interviews with case-
workers may support this hypothesis.

It is hoped that this exploration will enhance the
future observations of field workers, regardless of their
settings or specific interests. I also hope that this
investigation has developed some promising leads that can be
interpreted within Bourdieu' s theoretical franework. While
the complexity of social relations makes it difficult to
theorize about the their interconnectedness, if this study
has succeeded in sensitizing the reader to these relations
through the observation techniques used in this
investigation, then it has realized the nedest goal of
helping field researchers to better analyze the processes and

questions that they will inevitably face.

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