The pinstripes are getting streetwise

SO, TRAVIS, tell them your experience of Marks & Spencer. 'I had a great time, I was in the store, in the warehouse, I really got to know the meaning of customer service.' Sitting next to him, M&S chairman Luc Vandevelde wears a satisfied smile. Travis continues: 'The best thing, though, was I even got to drive one of their bosses round in a Merc.' And, asks the woman facilitator, 'What are your plans now?' Travis thinks for a bit, then answers. 'First off, I want to get a driving licence.' Vandevelde's grin instantly vanishes, to be replaced by a worried frown.

Subsequently, M&S wants me to know it transpires that Travis wasn't an actual driver at all but that he sat in the passenger seat as some sort of assistant chauffeur. Whatever - it's a delicious moment. We're in the Crisis centre in Commercial Street in the East End. Travis is one of a group of formerly homeless people invited to explain to business leaders what a difference taking part in a work placement programme has made to their lives. Sitting along from him there's Jean, who went to Sainsbury's, and Paul, who worked at Cisco Systems and can't stop talking about the respect with which he was treated.

Mark nods in agreement. He was at the Orpington branch of M&S and 'the staff were excellent, I got to wear a uniform same as them, they were there for me'. It's easy to be cynical about such a scheme, thinking: they're companies playing God, offering false hope to a few individuals; that capitalism has no real place in solving a deeprooted social problem; that companies are desperate to want to be seen to be caring and sharing but aren't really; and that, regardless of what they say, profit always comes first. But after a day spent with 14 of Britain's most successful commercial chiefs on the Seeing is Believing initiative of the Prince of Wales's Business in the Community, those aren't the sentiments at all.

First, we are shown the sharp end for destitute care, The Passage Day Centre in Westminster. Then we are taken to the Crisis offices to meet people on the Ready for Jobs programme run by Centrepoint Streets Ahead. John Studzinski, chief executive of HSBC corporate banking and a driving force in the movement to get people off the streets and into paid employment, acts as chairman.

'It's about changing perceptions,' he says. 'Ninety-eight% of rough sleepers would rather be in accommodation. The average life expectancy of a rough sleeper is 42, one in 10 young people will have been homeless for some period by the time they are 16; 25% of single homeless people will have been in the forces, half have academic qualifications, one in 10 have a degree.'

The idea is to start the business leaders off with the down and outs, people who turn to The Passage for food, warmth, clothing. Then it's the other end, to meet those who were at rock bottom but have now, thanks to work placements, regained some self-esteem and optimism.

So far, says Eva Hamilton, the director of Business in the Community's Business Action on Homelessness campaign, 'over 3000 pinstripes have been out, to see for themselves what being homeless means and what we're trying to do'. More than 400 homeless people have been given two-week, unpaid work placements, of which 48% have been offered jobs. The numbers are small but increasing: M&S alone has committed itself to giving work experience to 600 homeless people nationwide.

Indeed, if anyone leads by example in terms of commitment to the homeless it's Vandevelde and his company, which gives its leftover food to The Passage. On this trip, he greets Sister Ellen like a long-lost friend. 'How's my favourite Sister?' he asks before giving her a big hug. He knows the staff in The Passage. They nod at him, he nods back. His reasoning for being involved is simple. Yes, he says, being in business is all about being in competition but it's also about being in society, and homelessness strikes at the cohesiveness of that society. Therefore it must be alleviated.

Vandevelde visits the day centre at least once a year and never fails to find it a humbling experience. Partly, it's the homeless - people, as he points out, like you and me, whose luck has fallen and have found themselves spiralling downward. Partly, it's Sister Ellen, someone he lets slip he would gladly employ such is her ability at dealing with people and her skill in running The Passage like a business. The people who come through her doors are clients or customers, not tramps or dossers. Relentlessly cheery, she refuses to be cowed by the tide of misery she sees around her, preferring to focus on the positive and the fact that people can be, and are, lifted up and returned to work and homes.

Listening to the tales of the homeless - these are not scruffy winos, lurking in street porches, begging and hassling but people down on their luck, anxious to get back - the business chiefs are genuinely moved. Paris Moayedi, chairman of construction group Jarvis, says: 'I've never been on anything like this in my life.' Michael Wilson, chief executive of financial services group St James's Place Capital, says: 'It's critical we take as many out as possible.' John Rodway, director of UK technology sales for Oracle, describes it as 'a life-changing experience'.

By the time they have been to Crisis and seen what effect even a short placement can have, the company bosses are clamouring to help, to provide expertise, work - to do anything to tackle a problem that until today they thought belonged to people who chose to sleep that way, who were beggars and scroungers with alcohol and drug addictions, beyond saving.

Vandevelde, who has seen it all before, calms them down. 'Whatever help you give, you have to be sure the homeless people are helping themselves and it must be measurable. There must be follow-ups we don't want to give people false hope.' One young homeless man has just arrived in London from Newcastle. Funny, charming, neatly turned out, well-mannered, he looks too good, too normal, too like their own sons or their employees to be without a home. But he is. He lost his job, then split with his girlfriend who owned their flat and here he is.

One executive makes it clear he would like to hire him, something staff at the centre counsel against. There must be a reason why he has plummeted to this level; why he, and not others who also lose their jobs and their partners but don't end up on the streets, has nowhere to call home. Once the cause of his fall has been fully explored, he can be offered work and begin the climb back.

Several executives observe that there are too many different charity and voluntary groups dealing with the homeless. They comment on the iniquity of the system, that many people become homeless not because they haven't got jobs but because, in the South-East especially, they don't earn enough to afford anywhere to live. Rather than pay for expensive hostels, people take the decision to rough it on the streets without realising they are on a slippery slope.

Sleeping rough denies them creature comforts. They turn up for work dirty and smelling. Then they lose their jobs. Moayedi, for one, is scandalised that hostels charge so much for a room - his firm, he insists, can provide the same sort of accommodation for half the price, and already does so in student halls around the country.

Within three days, they are asked to return a page of bullet points on what they have seen and what action they will take. There should be no shortage of observations or offers of placements. It's a contemplative group who make their way back to their limousines and comfortable, executive lifestyles. 'We don't know how lucky we are,' says David Nish, finance director of Scottish Power. Nobody says anything - they don't need to.

If you want to help The Passage, Sister Ellen is on 020 7592 850. If your business wants to become involved in providing work placements, contact Eva Hamilton on 020 7566 8688.