I live in a rural area so I get very few people coming to my door. However, for decades I have refused to answer my door unless I had a phone call prior to the doorbell. I just don’t like surprises. My neighbors all know about this and have my number (I explained when I introduced myself after moving in).
Don’t you live in Tucson?
I had the exact same thing happen about a year ago. I offered to accompany him to the drug store to buy the medicine and he refused, saying I should just give him the money. Total crack head.
Later I found out he’d visited several of my neighbors over the last few weeks and always had a slightly different story.
I filed a police report on him, just in case.
Never had anyone show up at my door with a story like this, but there was a scruffy guy standing in front of the local drugstore asking for money to buy his baby diapers. My answer was: “Hey, I’m here to pick up some diapers too! What size does your kid wear?” The guy was flummoxed. (I have no kid).
Well, that’s a bit frightening because my response to someone unknown and unwanted knocking on my front door is to completely ignore it. I check the peep hole and if I don’t recognize who I see on the other side I don’t open it. The door stays locked and chained and I don’t really care if they can hear me talking inside or hear the TV on, I don’t have any obligation to answer my door to a stranger. Especially late at night.
But now you’re saying they might try and break in if I don’t at least answer. Hmmmm, something to think about.
I’ve experienced a number of these situations, as a pedestrian. The number one clue is Too Much Information. It’s like a salesman going into a spiel.
One guy followed me for two blocks down Michigan Avenue with this excruciatingly detailed sob story, the gist of which was that he needed just $5 to make a bus ticket. Well, I suppose if he could collect that from 2-3 people per hour it beats flipping burgers for a living.
Another started in with his car being out of gas, this is it right here, I could look and see myself, the bank’s closed, etc. When I mentioned the location of the nearest ATM, and he started a spiel about that too, my eyes were beginning to glaze over. Gist, finally: gimme some money. I just walked away. I almost said, Dude! Next time shorten the story and come out with it!
That’s how you tell people in genuine need. They cut to the chase. They haven’t been practicing in front of a mirror.
Yeah, a “rehearsed”-sounding story complete with prop is a dead giveaway. A guy needed bus fare home - he lives in Eastover and here’s his ID to prove it! Like, you had that out in your hand?
That’s the same guy I met! That guy gets around. 
On the way to the gym once a woman startled me asking for money for food. Since I don’t carry my wallet or anything to the gym, I honestly didn’t have anything… except my pre-workout apple (I need a little bit of something before a cardio workout). She looked totally dejected and said: “I can’t eat apples. I don’t have the teeth” and she opened her mouth and it was true. 
What was really heartbreaking is that what few teeth she had were healthy, and not the brittle nasty kind you see with addicts, and we both stood there staring at the damn apple trying to figure out a solution, and then she said: “That’s all right, God bless.”
In that neighborhood, there was a church that ran a soup kitchen, but only on weekends. Once in awhile you’d find a legitimately hungry person who’d heard about the food, but came on the wrong day of the week. I saw a guy sit on the curb almost in tears once, when he realized he’d come all that way for nothing, so I gave him a box of cereal I had in my apartment.
Best experience I ever had along these lines was a New Year’s eve morning about 15 years ago in D.C.
I was pumping gas when a fellow approached with a bucket of steaming soapy water and offered to clean my icy, road salt-covered windows for a dollar. He quickly explained that he was homeless, but the management of the service station gave him the bucket and the water and let him do this so he could earn a little something for himself.
I was so taken aback because I was used to the usual scam artists described in this thread on the local streets, or just outright beggars. Here was man, offering to do a job I needed done, for little cash and being completely honest about his situation. I gave him $5 (almost an hour’s pay for me at the time) and let him set to. I asked how he was celebrating the New Year and he said he hoped to get a warm motel room with cable TV and order a nice take out meal and that my money would go way toward helping with that.
One of the weirdest I ever got- and I still don’t know what his scam was- happened in D.C… A well dressed but sort of ratty guy (a suit that had once been nice but was wrinkled, may have come from a thrift store) asked if I was a member of AAA. For some reason I told the truth and said yes, whereupon he went into some story about his car being broken down and if he could borrow my AAA card he could get it towed but aijd f908aud faldfjaodf [some bunch of gibberish]. I told him, honestly, that my AAA card only covered me, but he insisted “No, I know how to get them to cover mine, I just need your number and akdjfoja oaidj afljf adfo”. It was at this point I said ‘Sorry…’ and walked off and he started in with somebody else.
To this day I don’t know if he planned to steal my wallet if I pulled it out for my AAA card or if it was planned identity theft (I sorta kinda doubt this because the guy was sort of scruffy, not the sort you’d think would be up on ID theft) or if he was just deranged or what exactly. Anybody else had this one happen?
The guy I felt the sorriest for in D.C. was one who was begging outside the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station because he was stranded there and needed just enough to get a bus ticket to somewhere in Maryland (where I’m guessing he had a broken down pregnant wife who needed a muffler and an inhaler). He’s one of the ones I made like Dion Warwick around (“walk on by…”) but I did remember him because he was distinctive looking (tall thin light-skinned black guy with a birthmark on his face). The reason I feel sorry for him is that when I came back for another conference in D.C. a month later the poor soul still hadn’t gotten enough money to get up to Maryland. (Of course if he could walk just 5 miles per day he’d have easily been able to get there within a month, but I’m guessing he’d have told how he lost the use of his feet in a divorce or whatever.)
Of course there was also the time I inadvertently became a panhandlerin D.C. so it may be legit.
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Does anybody know exactly how the excuses get so standardized? Tucson, L.A., Seattle, D.C., Miami, small towns in the south and midwest, and I’m guessing there are versions in Paris and London and Istanbul as well- the panhandlers all seem to have the same story, same props, same car part in need, whatever. I can’t imagine there’s a convention each year where they have panel sessions and have PowerPoints on “Houston gave almost no money to ‘pregnant wife needs suppositories after bank closing’ but strangely it was the most lucrative story in Fort Worth and Austin, while in Detroit the carburetor beat the muffler with an easy 4:1 net gain ratio but nobody was particularly moved by daughters needing inhalers in our blind double study…”. I just wonder how the information/advice gets disseminated.
My mother had a guy come to her door one morning probably 10 years ago now. She described him as a kid who could be 15 or 25 or anywhere in between if you’re familiar with those kind of looks, and he asked for food or money or odd jobs for money. She told him she didn’t need any odd jobs done and didn’t have any cash, but if he’d like some food she had plenty, expecting him to go away of course. He said please, he would love that, which surprised her. She told him that as a single woman she wasn’t going to let him come in but she’d bring him some, and he waited on her front step while she brought him some ham and biscuits left over from breakfast, then said goodbye as she went to work.
She worried about it all day- would he break into the house? Should she call 9-1-1? The only thing in his favor was that he really did seem to be hungry.
When she came back he was gone. Nothing was disturbed, but he had pulled all the weeds from her flower beds and taken the trash can from the curb to the back of the house after the garbage truck came, and he had cleaned the crud off her barbecue grill. She never saw him again, but always appreciated the gesture.
A lot of people don’t mind helping, but ordinary citizens aren’t equipped to spot scams or provide bigger/better solutions to long-term problems. Call 2-1-1…easy peasy.
Many are open 24/7 and have a boatload of services that could apply including emergency food, shelter, and so on. They function as a clearinghouse for many local services, from what I understand.
When I lived in the big city and took the bus to work everyday, I encountered panhandlers everyday.
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One day a guy came running up to me excited, agitated, and all out of breath, “I need 50 cents to dial 911!!!” I kinda burst his bubble when I quietly said, “All calls to 911 are free.” He then quietly moved on.
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A guy with two young children gets off the el and makes a beeline to me. Pulls out his wallet and shows me he has no money in it. “Could you help a family out. I don’t have any money to get my kids home.” I said, “Sure. You can take that Gold card I saw in there and purchase tickets over at that window over yonder.”
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At the bus stop a guy was shaking a coffee cup in everyones face like he was the collection usher at church. I had headphones on and was reading a book, but when he got to me and shook that cup of change under my nose, my response was, “Oh, that’s OK, I have enough for my fare.” He was confused and spuddered, “No, I want money from you!.” "Oh, " I replied, “Like that will happen.”
One day, however, the shoe was on the other foot. On a summer Sunday, I took the bus to Center City Philadelphia only taking with me a little over $3 in cash plus my debit card. Since there are 100’s of ATMs downtown, I didn’t get cash first, I figured I’d get it there, have lunch, go shopping, then head home. Got there, but the ATM ate my card (Nooooooo!), and then realized I was 15 cents short for the bus fare to get back home – nine miles away. I walked home rather than ask anyone for 15 cents. I wasn’t about to use one of those sob stories for money. (Although I seriously considered scooping a quarter out of the fountain at the Gallery, but I figured I’d get caught. "No really officer, I just needed a quarter to get home!) That’s what I get for riding my high horse.
Out here in the boonies we don’t have any pan handlers, just holy rollers knocking on your door.
They talk to each other of course. Give tips on the best stories/ways to earn some extra cash, that sort of thing. I learned a few tricks that way when I knew a lot of street kids (though I never used them, but it comes in handy sometimes).
One guy told me how when they had Pepsi Blue he’d buy a bottle of that, pour it into a spray bottle of some kind and go be a squeegee kid. He’d tell people if they gave him five bucks he’d drink the ‘window wash fluid’ in this here bottle. That was one of several tips I heard when hanging out…
Panhandler’s Message Board? It would be divided into forums by region and then threads would be titled, “Best Corners In Austin” or “Most Lucrative Subway Stops in DC” and “Best Stories For Detroit” and “How To Dress” and “Sharpies vs. Regular Markers - the Eternal Debate” and so on.
Something similar happened to me in Scotland. I was just dropped off in a town called Ballachulish with my Bank of Scotland ATM checking card in hand, only to note that the Royal Bank of Scotland (which was in town) is not the same as the Bank of Scotland (closest branch in Ft. William, 10 miles down the road). And the cards were incompatible at that time (1996). So I was stuck with no cash, and in need of an 8 pound 50 pence bus ticket to Glasgow. I struck up a conversation with a pregnant lady, and then her husband came and we all got to talking. I was really embarrassed and couldn’t bring myself to ask for money until the bus showed up–I was engaged with them in conversation for about 20 minutes to that point. Obviously, since I was actually getting on the bus, it didn’t look like a scam, but the couple were more than happy to help me out. The bus driver even caught wind of what happened and said he wouldn’t have left me stranded there, either. The husband and I even split a six-pack on the trip and when I got to Glasgow, I found an ATM, tried to give them a tenner, but they only let me repay the 8.50. I’ve always been fond of Scotland, but that really cemented it for me.
And there was a previous time when I was in LA trying to get to Chicago, but my bank account was $10 short. That time, I couldn’t bring myself to begging and called my parents at 10:30 p.m., who had to go to the station downtown to buy the ticket (it couldn’t be done over the phone for some reason in 1994.)
So, it’s happened twice to me, so I suppose it could happen to anyone. That said, I generally don’t believe 99% of the people who approach me with that story. (There was one 20-something kid I gave bus money to, whose story sounded like it could be plausible. I wasn’t sure, but it made enough sense.) I’m much more likely to give somebody money who approaches me and honestly says, listen, I really need a beer, can you spare a couple bucks.
Another one that the broken down cars reminded me of. Panhandler in Redwood City, Ca needed money for an engine rebuild so he could get back home in San Francisco.(less than 30 miles)
Back when I worked in a clinic (early to mid 1990’s) our panhandler patients used to sit the lobby and discuss strategy. (The whores used to do that, too - in some ways it was a very educational job, though when the thieves and muggers started talking shop it got downright creepy/scary).
It’s not just begging, either - some of them used to sell fruit in the subway stations and they’d discuss how to get fruit cheap (which store, discount racks, etc.), which combinations seemed to work best, how to arrange it in the bag to hide bruises, blemishes, and even mold, etc.
I’ve been knocked up (sic - fnar) by a bloke claiming to have been robbed and needing £5 for food. Since I happen to have seen said bloke (unsteadily) cross the street from the pub across the way, I politely refused and sent him on his way. Still, a pint or two is an improvement over crack, I suppose.
This is my reciped for dealing with all those people who
come to our doors asking for money for inhalers:
'Nine dollars? Are you sure you can get an inhaler for
only nine dollars? I’m sure you are mistaken. Now, while
I have over a million dollars upstairs in my skeleton-key
locked safe, I feel certain, if you work hard and put your
mind to it, you CAN get that nine dollars without bothering
me. However, if you think you must bother me for that nine
dollars, here’s the key to the safe and just go upstairs and
take what you think you REALLY need. I’m sure nine dollars
is inaccurate.
Be sure not to open the gun case or the knife case, since they
are on alarm systems. By the way, there is cash stuffed
inside the walls and gold is buried in the basement. Don’t
tell anyone! For, if you do, I might get robbed!
Pleeease come in perfect stranger and sit there while I make
you some tea and try and find the skeleton key to mey
millions of dollars in both cash and jewels upstairs to the
right of the linen closet. I’m sure you are perfectly
trustworthy. No one but a perfectly trustworthy person would
dare come to my Brownstone front door and ask for nine
dollars but a person of high standing and in great and
emergent need! I trust you implicitly!