Testosterone poisoning is an ugly thing.

At the homeless shelter where I work, there's another staff member about whom the guests frequently complain. Apparently, he's a real stickler for the rules and routinely engages in hard-ass behavior toward the guests. I used to think he was just a bitter old man with a chip on his shoulder; but I think I understand him now.

Perhaps it was the result of having been outside all day in a nasty snow and sleet storm, but the guests were unusually tense tonight. On three separate occasions, there were shouting matches that my colleague and I had to quash. My colleague even threatened to call the cops if the guys didn't cool it. (We had no female guests tonight.)

I have all sorts of authority over the guests that I've never used, mainly because they've behaved themselves and made it unnecessary; but if these idiotic pissing contests continue, I'll have no choice but to put my foot down.

Here in Eastern Connecticut, tomorrow night's predicted low is eight degrees Fahrenheit. If I have to step between any guests at that point, I'm going to tell them, "If you want to have a playground brawl, do it outside. And don't plan on coming back in tonight if you do." Perhaps turning into human Popsicles will cool their tempers down!

I hope it doesn't come to that, but if I let the men get away with a rule violation as severe as fighting in the shelter, then I'll have lost their respect and probably my boss's, too. And that can't happen, not if I want to be successful in this job.