Most days the past couple months, Howard Pervall and Luke Bealmer have left the only home they have.
The Haven closes at 7 each morning, so Pervall and Bealmer and the other 12 souls at the Rock Hill shelter for homeless men go to the York County Library to hunt a job or just stay busy walking the streets.
They might eat lunch at the Dorothy Day Soup Kitchen or go hungry. Then, they go back to the shelter when it re-opens at 6 p.m.
But last week was different.
Last week, a job was available, and both men grabbed it - even though the job was in Wisconsin. And they had to ride a bus to get there.
The job was working concessions at the elite PGA Championship, serving hot dogs and beers that cost $7.50 to people with platinum American Express cards in alligator-skin wallets tucked inside plaid pants.
"You get a chance at a job, you take it," said Pervall, 31. "In this economy, a job is a job. I never went to Wisconsin before. I wanted to see the country."
Bealmer, 20, said he jumped at the chance to see a place he had never seen and prove his work ethic.
"I wanted to show somebody that I am willing to work," said Bealmer, "that any opportunity is a chance to develop myself."
The two were among about 75 people hired from the Charlotte region by 1st Choice temporary agency, which provided food service labor for the catering company handling on-course concessions.
The job opportunities were posted at employment offices around the region and drew far more applicants than positions, said Jo Friday, CEO of 1st Choice.
"We posted that it would be fun, that there would be travel to get there, and money when it was over," Friday said. "The response was overwhelming from people seeking work."
So overwhelming that Bealmer and Pervall were the only two of 10 from Rock Hill's shelters who applied to get jobs.
Jessica Lynn, executive director at The Haven, had heard about the jobs from a pastor she knows. She coordinated the applications, then got to work finding Pervall and Bealmer the uniforms of khaki pants and white polo shirts, plus black shoes, each man would need to work the food stands.
Several area charities pitched in, and Pervall and Bealmer were off for Wisconsin with $30 in pocket money, clothes to work in, and bright, wide eyes.
"We were so excited that Howard and Luke had a chance to make some money, get job experience that might lead to a permanent job, and just plain take a break from the grind of daily living that the homeless deal with," Lynn said.
"The shelter isn't a permanent home for them or anyone. We want people to find their own way after leaving here. This might be that path to a job, to independence again."
But this trip was no vacation. Both men worked the stand at the 10th tee, setting up, serving customers, cleaning up - whatever had to get done. They started at 5 a.m. and finished near sunset.
"We worked 14 hours a day, from when we got there until Sunday when the tournament was over," said Bealmer.
The workers stayed in a nearby college dorm.
"By the time you got back at night, all I wanted to do was lie down and sleep," Pervall said. "I had my own room. The shelter - there are 13 of us there - you don't get your own room. But it was work at the golf tournament. It was a job."
A week's work on their feet, but it was a job.
"I was proud to do it, and I think I did it well," said Bealmer. "Any job you have, you do your best."
Golfer Bubba Watson signed some caps for a few workers, but other than far-off sightings of players, they saw no golf. They played no golf. They heard cheers - meant for other people.
Finally, Monday, the bus rolled back into town, and by late that night, the men were back at The Haven.
And now, Pervall and Bealmer have recent work experience and recommendations for other jobs that might come up. The staffing company is looking at future events out of town that they and the others who made the trip might be able to do.
"I heard nothing but praise about how they performed," Friday said.
But the last couple of days have been back to the drudgery of being broke and homeless for Pervall and Bealmer. The library, the soup kitchen, the walking, the worry.
Bealmer, who grew up in both Virginia and Rock Hill, said he wants to be an architect and is hoping to get back to college.
"This job was an experience, a life experience," said Bealmer. "I showed a work ethic. I showed people can depend on me. I did my best at that job."
Pervall, who has lived in Rock Hill all his life, has a more short-term goal - get a job here, a roof of his own.
"I just showed I can work seven straight days, I hope somebody would see I can do it for them here in Rock Hill," Pervall said. "I work, then I get a place to live. I get on my own."
Tiger Woods, the troubled golf superstar who makes so many tens of millions annually but has tanked this year after his well-publicized romps with strippers, well, Bealmer saw him one time during the week.
Bealmer saw Woods as he was calling out to customers, as Bealmer did thousands of times: "Welcome to the 10th Tee stand, how can I help you?" with the promise of a day's pay of about $60 and change.
"He seemed depressed, down," said Bealmer of Woods. "Despondent, even. Maybe he was worried about his future."
Tiger stank up the joint with his emotional problems, never broke a sweat in a sport that includes a lackey to carry your bags, then left after the tournament was over Sunday by private jet. But before Woods left, he snagged a $46,700 check - for finishing 28th for his week's work with his dour face of sorrow.
At the same time, Luke Bealmer and Howard Pervall got on a bus for a 24-hour ride back to a life with no permanent home, no job and an uncertain future.
For a week of work, in a check soon to come from the staffing company, Pervall and Bealmer will receive $400 apiece.
"I would do it all over again," said Bealmer. "I got a chance and I took it. I earned that money."
"Great week in Wisconsin," said Pervall. "Life, you fall down, you get back up. Happy to make that money."
Then both left The Haven men's shelter for another uncertain day of not knowing where food would come from - still wearing small, but clear, smiles on their faces.