Do you ever find yourself being harassed by street people? Do you find yourself having to deal with people you wish would just leave you alone? Beggars, con artists, hustlers, and crooks?
Well, I seem to be running into more than my share lately. Case in point: A few days ago, I pulled into the Food City parking lot intent on buying ingredients for salsa and baleadas.
As I was walking towards the entrance, I noticed a guy meandering along who, as he noticed me, suddenly changed course to intercept my path. Being the suspicious jerk that I am, I was immediately suspicious of this turd. He was a tall, reddish blond white guy, relatively fit and healthy, and walking with a relaxed stride. As he got closer I noticed his eyes were bloodshot.
He caught my eye and sure enough, right out of his mouth came the pitch. "Excuse me, sir? I just got out of the hospital and I need to get a prescription-"
Yeah, right. Prescription my shiny white butt. I'm bettin' on meth. You know how many times I've got the I, My Wife, My Kid Need Medicine pitch from panhandlers? Four times, and it has to be the new official sympathy con of the world. Sheesh.
Honestly, this guy's line is older than dirt, and I was unimpressed. By the time he'd got to mentioning a prescription, I had put my palm up in a one-handed Talk To The Hand version of The Fence, just to keep some distance between us, and I spit out a terse, "No, man!" to the beggar and kept walking like he wasn't even there. He said a few more passive aggressive words to my back, but I didn't care and he wandered off.
In the past, I would have given this guy the time of day, and maybe even some cash. But lately I'm getting real short-tempered and crotchety with these lazy skels who don't even try to be good beggars, and the fact that I know so many of the common panhandler's come-ons just makes me all the more hair-triggered irritable with these people.
It's not that I have anything against begging, mind you. It's a trade, like any other, and one of the world's oldest professions. But if a member of this dubious fraternity approaches me, I demand that more thought and originality be evident in the beggar's pitch, or they get nothing but contempt from me.
No joke, give me a new and heartbreaking Tale of Woe, or threadbare clothes and a broken stagger. Give me bleary eyes and a boozy slur, or gimme comedy or a slick line of palaver. But gimme a reason!
The tired old, "I ran out of gas and need to get to Tucson", or "My wife needs her meds", or "I need bus fare because my grandma's in the hospital and I'm an orphan" lines are stale and uninspiring, and no longer work on this weary traveler.
At first I may have felt self-righteously justified in shutting this beggar down and treating him as a non-entity, but eventually my wrath fell down around my ears and I began to feel bad.
But then I had a cookie, and felt better.
But then tonight I had another run-in with some more annoying people.
I stopped at Fry's on my way home to get some milk, and as I pulled in to the parking lot, I noticed four men loitering out in front of the entrance. when I got out of my car, two of the men were walking off while the other two were shouting out the website addy for some sort of dot-org group.
I was tired, and with a sign of resignation I squared my shoulders and put the most unapproachable scowl I could muster on my face. Both of these guys were scuzzpunks in gangster-noir clothing, shorts halfway down their butts, gold chains, and one had a sideways cap on his head.
When I passed them, one of them asked me if I could give them a few minutes of my time, and I growled out a sullen,"Not tonight" and kept walking. I expected to be harassed as I walked out of the store, but they were gone when I came out five minutes later. Maybe I hurt their feelings. :P
Am I wrong? Am I just an intolerant SOB?
Yes, I am. Sue me.
But one thing I can say, is that the art of begging will become an art form in the coming years. The depression will bring out anyone who needs a quick buck. So I suppose I'd better just accept it and learn to move like water through the demanding throngs of panhandlers that will be infesting the parking lots and street corners in the months and years to come.
For all I know, I may end up as one of them.
10 comments:
I find that when I am in a public place and I don't want to risk someone talking to me, I go into a weird angry mode. My neck disappears as I hunch forward, my eye narrow, my brow lowers and my nose scrunches, my nostrils flare and I get a very weird hitch in my step...
I found myself doing it last night when I went to Wal-mart with Melissa and Chelcie. I wondered off alone to look at office supplies and found a group of stupid, loud college kids in front of the White out. They began to get obnoxious until I took my defensive positon. Then they quieted to judgemental whispers and walked away.
I have to say, when I walk around like that- no one talks to me. It is a good thing.
Anyways...
I'll probably go to hell for not helping those in need, but there are far too many liars for me to even think of helping. A long time ago the news in slc did an expose on beggars/bums. Turns out many of them lived in big homes on the hill and didn't ever pay taxes. They could bring in enough money to support a family and own a home just from begging.
After that story I never have had a desire to help a beggar. I don't want to enable their ways.
Dan you really need to be writing for a magazine or a newspaper. You do really well at expressing yourself.
You are right, it's getting worse and worse to go places. That's why I just send Alan or Andy. I am scared to death to go places by myself these days.
O’Brother can you spare some more change… I just returned from our local Wal-Mart where Dan’s Food City man ran into me! Yes, I’m sure it was the same man because he needed some spare change for his prescription…it had to be the same guy, Old man, new tennis shoes, cargo shorts, polo shirt, blue camo hat, five foot tall and hunched over, speeding from one side of the parking lot to the other hitting up everyone in sight walking to or from their car.
This is how the story played out:
As I pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot I observed an old man making a beeline for some poor unsuspecting soles walking nonchalantly into the store. Instantly I knew what the old man was up to because I had just finished reading Dan’s blog. This guy was obviously up to the old “Can you spare some spare change for something routine”. I had to come up with a plan to avoid him at all cost, so I began a slow cautious circling of the parking lot, much the same as a dog does when he works himself into a comfortable protective circle as he beds down for the night. I finally found a parking place at the far end of the parking lot with easy access to the Wal-Mart door and an easy forward and reverse exit for my mini van, I wish I had been driving my old Chev pick up but lucky for me on this day to the store I was at least dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt, surly I would not stand out as a good mark for a pocket full of spare change, after all he was dressed in finer clothing then I was…
But alas it was not to be.
I exited the store and scanned the parking lot for Pharmacy Phil, Hand-out Harry, Beggar Bob, Spare Change Charley, or who every you want to call him. It appeared as though the coast was clear but I wasn’t taking any chances. I walked quickly and deliberately along the wall of the building and then darted out into the parking lot where I zig zaged my way to the safety of my car. When I arrived at my car some idiot had parked his motor home in front of me taking up 7 or 8 parking spaces and then some bone headed, brainless, Wal-Mart guy had park his train of at least 500 shopping carts he had been collecting directly behind my car. There was no escape unless I made a run for it, but why run I was safely at my car. No sign of Beggar Bob, and then it happened! From out of nowhere, behind my back, as I reached for the door handle on the car, just seconds from the safety and silence of my car… the voice rang out, pierced my ears and sent an uncomfortable spine tingling sensation up my spine; “Can you spare some change for my prescriptions?” I was crushed, after all my preparation to avoid this situation I still had to face it and reply. So I did. Just as I always do. I turned and looked him in the eyes and said “ No, Not Today” as if to say; sure, hit me up tomorrow and I will be happy to make a contribution to your unbelievable worthless situation.
And so it goes on as it does week after week only to get worse month after month in these economic times. I can only hope that the next wave of Beggar Bobs will be more creative and offer us at least some entertainment for our hard earned pocket change. Maybe a bum sitting on a stool with a paint roller and a sign that says “Face Painting Five Bucks” or a bum asking “Give $25 or more and get this nifty tote bag” or a bum dressed as a pig with a sign that says “Please Help - House Blown Down” or a bum dressed as a Playing card King with a sign “ Please Help – Lost in the Shuffle”. But I digress into jocularity, what else can we do laughter is the best medicine.
Later, Alan E.
Nice, Alan. Looks like these guys are multiplying.
The guy I ran into wasn't much older than me, and was taller than I am, so I think it's a different man, which annoys me, because the beggar you ran into is using the same pitch.
Wow. Just wow.
Good stuff. I have a story too.I was with Jaren inside a Hollywood video one night and a lady came up to us and gave us a sob story on how she needs bus fare to get her and her baby girl somewhere and she had to be there that night. (I believe this was Tucson) She pulled right at our heart strings so being the manly men we were, we gave her five dollars and she left. A few days later I am sitting in my livingroom when I hear a knock at the door. I answer it and who can it be? The same lady and she gave me the SAME STORY! I called her on her BS and she quickly walked away. Funny. I guess beggin is a full time job too!
Oooh, busted!
Money for a prescription? Really? That's the lamest, most obvious bunch of bull. The problem is, panhandlers have lost their zest. There's just no thought or creativity put into their pitch. They're just ripping off old excuses. And why should plagiarism get rewarded?
So, until someone comes up to me and gives me a totally unbelievable story--like, "My father's a pirate and he needs a new peg leg...for his parrot..."--I ain't giving a dime.
LOL, I'll use that one if I ever start begging!
So....Next post please
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