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seabird78This evening, I was in the process of rolling a shopping cart to the farthest reaches of the Ultra Foods parking lot, seeking the most remote cart corral, so as to lessen the distance that I'd have to schlep two ten-pound bags of kitty litter using only my arms. I was about halfway there when I saw a woman approaching out of the corner of my eye. She called out to me, saying something like, "Can I talk to you a minute? Sorry if I yelled. I didn't want you to think I was sneaking up from behind."
I was curious, so I stopped and faced her. She was a petite lady with tired eyes, long black hair, a waist-length puffy coat and jeans. Before I could assess her condition, she breathlessly exclaimed, "I'm so sorry to bother you. I know it's late, I know you probably wanna get home. And just so you know, I'm not a beggar, I'm not homeless, I'm not unemployed, I'm not a scumbag. I'm Italian."
I've heard a lot of these spiels in my day, but never before have I heard someone invoke their ethnicity while making what was obviously going to be a plea for cash. With that in mind, I had to stick around and hear her out.
"Okay," I said.
She put her hand on mine. It was smooth and soft. "I just need a little help," she continued. I have lung cancer, and I was at Rush hospital downtown getting treated. My car died while I was out there. I need 69 dollars to get it out. I'm trying to get home. I live way out in Batavia. And I soiled my pants. I can show you my cancer papers, I'll give you my phone and you can call anyone you want. I'll even leave you my wallet with my IDs, but if I do that I'm gonna need 'em back later."
"Please," she said. "If there's anything you can do to help me out. Anything at all, I would be so grateful. I'm not a beggar, I'm not a scumbag. I'm not a derelict. I just need some help."
I should stop here and mention that the whole "I was at the hospital and my car died" schtick is one of the oldest in the book, or at least it's the one I hear the most often in my neck of the woods. Usually it annoys me because it's so unoriginal. But this time, even though I can't say that I fully believed this lady, there were certain aspects of her story -- the mention of her soiled pants, for instance, that made it seem more authentic than most. And she happened to catch me at a moment when I was feeling especially empathetic, seeing as how just a half an hour earlier I'd gotten a text from my sister announcing that she was fired from her job.
"I don't carry a lot of cash," I said carefully, "But I can check and see if I have a few bucks."
The woman's eyes went from sad to hopeful. "Really? Oh, whatever you can do would be wonderful." She raised her arms and stepped back. "I'll stand over here while you look. I know people can get weird about that."
I dug in my purse for my wallet, and a ten was the first bill I laid hands on when I opened it. Initially I had planned to give her two or three singles, but something told me that I should be more generous, that this moment was the reason for me having decided to break one of my twenties by paying cash for my kitty litter.
If nothing else, I'd make out with some good karma, right?
I pulled the ten from my wallet, and handed it over to the lady. Her whole face lit up and she smiled in gratitude, saying, "Thank you. Thank you so much! Can I kiss you?"
I laughed, and told her that was okay.
"Probably better I don't. I stink," she said. She lifted her soft hand from mine, and extended it so I could shake it.
"Can I pay you back?" the lady asked.
I waved her off. "Don't worry about it."
The lady backed away and pointed at me. "Thank you again. I'ma say a prayer for you."
I nodded and continued on my way. I have no idea if that ten is gonna be put to good use, but at least I know I tried to help. And in return, I get to share an interesting little anecdote with all of you!
So yeah, swindle or not, it's still full of win!
I was curious, so I stopped and faced her. She was a petite lady with tired eyes, long black hair, a waist-length puffy coat and jeans. Before I could assess her condition, she breathlessly exclaimed, "I'm so sorry to bother you. I know it's late, I know you probably wanna get home. And just so you know, I'm not a beggar, I'm not homeless, I'm not unemployed, I'm not a scumbag. I'm Italian."
I've heard a lot of these spiels in my day, but never before have I heard someone invoke their ethnicity while making what was obviously going to be a plea for cash. With that in mind, I had to stick around and hear her out.
"Okay," I said.
She put her hand on mine. It was smooth and soft. "I just need a little help," she continued. I have lung cancer, and I was at Rush hospital downtown getting treated. My car died while I was out there. I need 69 dollars to get it out. I'm trying to get home. I live way out in Batavia. And I soiled my pants. I can show you my cancer papers, I'll give you my phone and you can call anyone you want. I'll even leave you my wallet with my IDs, but if I do that I'm gonna need 'em back later."
"Please," she said. "If there's anything you can do to help me out. Anything at all, I would be so grateful. I'm not a beggar, I'm not a scumbag. I'm not a derelict. I just need some help."
I should stop here and mention that the whole "I was at the hospital and my car died" schtick is one of the oldest in the book, or at least it's the one I hear the most often in my neck of the woods. Usually it annoys me because it's so unoriginal. But this time, even though I can't say that I fully believed this lady, there were certain aspects of her story -- the mention of her soiled pants, for instance, that made it seem more authentic than most. And she happened to catch me at a moment when I was feeling especially empathetic, seeing as how just a half an hour earlier I'd gotten a text from my sister announcing that she was fired from her job.
"I don't carry a lot of cash," I said carefully, "But I can check and see if I have a few bucks."
The woman's eyes went from sad to hopeful. "Really? Oh, whatever you can do would be wonderful." She raised her arms and stepped back. "I'll stand over here while you look. I know people can get weird about that."
I dug in my purse for my wallet, and a ten was the first bill I laid hands on when I opened it. Initially I had planned to give her two or three singles, but something told me that I should be more generous, that this moment was the reason for me having decided to break one of my twenties by paying cash for my kitty litter.
If nothing else, I'd make out with some good karma, right?
I pulled the ten from my wallet, and handed it over to the lady. Her whole face lit up and she smiled in gratitude, saying, "Thank you. Thank you so much! Can I kiss you?"
I laughed, and told her that was okay.
"Probably better I don't. I stink," she said. She lifted her soft hand from mine, and extended it so I could shake it.
"Can I pay you back?" the lady asked.
I waved her off. "Don't worry about it."
The lady backed away and pointed at me. "Thank you again. I'ma say a prayer for you."
I nodded and continued on my way. I have no idea if that ten is gonna be put to good use, but at least I know I tried to help. And in return, I get to share an interesting little anecdote with all of you!
So yeah, swindle or not, it's still full of win!
