There’s no way to say this
without sounding like an absolute jerk, a Scrooge to rival Ebenezer or McDuck.
I’m going to say it anyway.
I’m tired of the panhandlers.
I’m not talking about the guys in
army jackets outside bus terminals “spare change-ing” passengers as they stroll
past. Nor do I mean people like the lady who approached me at the grocery last
week with an elaborate and overlong tale about her poor mother’s need for an
expensive operation, an operation for which she was, alas, three bucks short.
I gave her the three bucks, after
which she made a bee-line to the beer cooler. Sedative for the surgery, no
doubt.
I’m not even talking about the
dude who stands at the entrance to the Best Buy parking lot all day holding up
a piece of cardboard informing me he’s not only a good Christian, but a good
Christian who will bless me in exchange for whatever cash I happen to have
sitting on my passenger seat.
I’ve got nothing against these
folks. To my way of thinking – and you have to remember, I’m a fuzzy-headed, bleeding
heart liberal –these panhandlers are simply carrying on a rich tradition that
goes back thousands of years, to Biblical times and earlier. Jesus said to give
‘em a hand, so I usually do. If I’m being scammed (a distinct possibility) I
don’t want to know about it.
It’s just a couple bucks and it gives
me the false notion I’m somehow shortening the duration of my stay in
Purgatory, which is likely to be lengthy no matter how much spare change I
disseminate.
Before I get to the part where I
start sounding like Scrooge, though, let me say this: I’m not against charity.
I’m all for it, particularly when it’s going to a truly worthwhile cause or
needy person.
But I also believe charity should
be personal and private. And most importantly, voluntary. All three of these
things get tossed to the curb in the hands of what I’ve come to think of as
“corporate panhandlers.”
If you’ve purchased anything in
the past two years, you know exactly what I’m talking about. At every checkout
counter, it’s the same: “Would you like to buy a toy for a child effected by
the recent Jell-O factory explosion in Peru?” “Would you like to donate a
dollar to the Homeless Mountain Goats Foundation?” “Would you care to help fund
the college education of a gynecologist who’s promised to volunteer two years
with Greenpeace once he gets his license?”
This question is always asked by
a very loud clerk in a very crowded store.
At which point you have a choice.
Fork over the donation and be a nice guy. Or announce to the world at large that
you’re a heartless jerk, the kind of person who doesn’t give a damn about
Jell-O explosions or homeless mountain goats!
The truth is, left to my own
devices, I might very well decide I DO care about Jell-O and goats. I might
decide on my own to make a donation. But I DO NOT like being pressured into
doing so while trying to pay for the bag of dollar store M&Ms I plan to
sneak into the movie theater.
For those of you thinking, well,
it’s only a buck, I agree. Kind of. But consider this: the other day I spent
about an hour running around town, doing errands, picking up a few things we
needed for the house. In that 60 minutes, I was hit up FIVE TIMES. A person
would have to stroll back and forth on Fifth Avenue in New York City for at
least two hours to be spare-changed that often.
I’m done with it, I tell ya! If
your business is that concerned with the welfare of homeless mountain goats,
YOU make a nice, fat corporate donation! Stop trying to pick my pocket every
time I walk through the doors of your shop.
My response from now on when a
clerk asks for a contribution to The United Memorial Electrician’s College
Fund?
Bah! Humbug!
(616) 548-8273
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