Panhandlers

The BBQ Pit
21

I will never forget the day that I was walking out of Grand Central Station and was approached by someone asking for 1.25 for coffee. It was bitterly cold, and I felt bad for him, but I was completely broke myself at that point. I rummaged through my coat pocket and managed to turn up a dime. Sheepishly, I gave him the dime - literally, my last ten cents at that point (payday was a few days away) figuring that it was at least a start. He took the dime from me, gave me a look of disgust, and tossed it over his shoulder. I almost cried.

Of course, I still tend to give when I can because the few times that I’ve gotten some genuine gratitude (usually when I’ve given someone food or coffee, etc.) make it worthwhile.

22

One got me a week or so ago with a clever little technique:

He didn’t look like he was homeless at first glance, not clean shaven, but besides that not horrible. Being in Montreal he just asked me if I spoke English or French, getting me to stop to, in my head, see if I know where he needs directions to.

“Do you have any spare change so I can go to the McDonald’s?” points to McDonald’s across street.

I just said sorry, and that I didn’t have any spare change.
If I had a lot of money I wouldn’t mind it, but unless the person looks to be in obvious distress I don’t think I’ll bother, most of them are making more in a day than I would working a full day.

23

I like the ones who have a specific fiigure for you:

“I need 80 cents to have enough for bus fare.”

Without fail, this sort of plea will be made by someone standing within ten paces of our corner liquor store.

24

Which reminds me of a guy here who appears to be perfectly healthy, but works the crowd from a wheelchair. His limbs do not seem atrophied at all.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is a guy in a wheelchair who works the sidewalk in front of (the former) Macy’s this guy is obviously messed up. He can barely move his arms and can (apparently) only move one foot well. (MS?) His body is shriveled, and he cannot communicate beyond making gutteral sounds and nodding or shaking his head.

I had always assumed the guy had a “handler” who brought him out to his spot (and probably took most of his money at the end of the day), but then one day I came in to work early, around 6:00 a.m., and the guy was on the train with me. He got off the train using his one good foot to push himself backwards bit by bit, and was apparently prepared to make his way up and out of the station and from there two more blocks to his “spot” by this arduous method. I knew where he was headed, so I offered to push him there and he accepted by nodding vigorously.

This guy I always give a couple of bucks when I can.

Not one dime, though, to the guys who are always posted near the liquor store.

25

Am I the only one that doesn’t mind panhandlers (and in downtown Santa Cruz, you see dozens a day)? I do my thing, they do theirs. It takes absolutely nothing out of my day to shake my head or say “sorry” a few times. I’ve never been threatened, cursed, or harrassed. A few times I’ve had panhandlers try to give me their stash of peanut butter and the like when I explained that I was pretty hardup myself.

Sometimes I do give them money, and when I do, what do I care if they spend it on liquor? I’m occasionally inclined to spend my money on liquor, and I have a nice comfy place to go home to. If I were cold, bored, unsafe, and on the streets I might feel like a drink a bit more often.

26

I think a lot of it is that I tend to not like people in general. It is enough for me to have to interact with the people that I know. When I am out and about in the world, I basically just want to be left the hell alone so that I can accomplish my task. Just about every time I go out it is basically a gauntlet of strangers that are interacting with me, this gets on my nerves. Hell, I would probably be authoring a Pit thread if I were asked for the time 4 times between the office and the cornet café.

27

Worst experience: A group of kids selling candy for stupid high prices to support their “ball team”. They were standing directly in front of the Virgin Megastore in Times Square, blocking the exits. So I do a dance to get by them, and one follows me into the middle of the square cursing me because I wouldn’t buy M&Ms. When he called my then-g/f a white bitch, I got in his face and point at a cop on the corner. Either he got the idea, or got bored and left. (I don’t care what his color is, I’m not spending $2 on candy for a fake team)

Best: Outside of a Borders on Second Ave, a guy was asking people if they had five cents. I came out of the store and gave him a quarter. He gave me his secret… he was asking if people had “five senses, and of COURSE they do! They can taste, see, hear, smell and feel!” Made my day, that guy did.

28

I’m thinking liquor may be the reason some of these guys are “cold, bored, unsafe and on the streets.” I’ll be damned if I’ll help someone drink themselves to death.

29

I suppose it’s not very charitable of me, but I hate panhandlers, especially the bums who won’t admit they want a fix but try to give a sob story. “My car gave out of gas… I got a pregnant wife lives in [city about 30 miles away] and I had to come up here to help out a friend and I ran out of gas, got no money… yadda yadda” (assuming you’re telling the truth, WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU DRIVING A CAR WHEN YOU KNEW IT DIDN’T HAVE GAS AND YOU KNEW YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY MONEY?) or- I love this one and I’ve heard it two dozen times- “My car needs a part that costs $17.42 and I only got $3.95 if you can spare some change…” (I would LOVE a car that can be fixed for $17.42 when it breaks down… what make/model is it?.)

And what really pisses me off is when I’m accosted at my own home. I live in a middle class apartment complex in the woods outside of Tuscaloosa (not a big city) and I’ve had panhandlers walk up twice while I’m walking my dog after midnight. The last time I was minding my own business while my dog eliminated in the bushes at 1:00 a.m. and I heard- “Sir! Look
heah, sir! I ain’t no thief and I ain’t no bum…”

Well thank you for sharing. I personally am neither a Muslim pirate nor a Chaucer scholar. It’s good to know what we’re not as I think process of elimination is how we find out who we are, and speaking of being in the process of eliminating my dog is shitting. While in some cultures that particular combination of dog and body language might mean “Hail fellow well met, approach that we may become acquainted” it’s not part of the Weokahatchee AL counter-culture I grew up in, so merrily fuck thee off. Though what I said was: “Mhmm” while thinking “Let me guess… stalled car… needs a part… have a good job… my wallet was eaten earlier this evening by a rabid she-camel when I stopped to pull three orphaned French children and their pet cockatiel from a burning car and low and behold did I mention I have a pregnant wife who lives in Neverheardofitville, Alabama and she needs a part and I need to get to her.”

Him: “Yeah… I’m sorry to be both’rin’ you sir, but you the only person I seen outside they house here… look here, I’m a single father…”

Objection! Relevance? Get to the point.

“…and I was just driving over here got my tools in the back my truck and it roke down and my daughter she up in Big Sandy…”*

Your daughter’s gay and her girlfriend has a weight problem? How’s that?

“…and I need to get to her cause she sick got the diabeetus and have skeizures [sic] and I need to get her some medicine cause I got to go out ta town tomorrow…”

I’ve heard of some shitty HMOs, but this is the first one that requires a co-pay from a man in a robe walking a stupid little dog who’s currently peeing on his own front leg (my Ollie’s not too bright, if I haven’t mentioned).

“…now I ain’t axin’ for a handout, but if you can spare just twelve maybe fourteen even five dollars I swear to you sir Jesus be my witness I get it back to you… you’ll have your money back in two days…”

I have my money now. How is this an incentive?

“and… oh I’m sorry… my name is Earl… Earl Jenkins… I live in Big Sandy, Alabama and I’m a welder been one for twenty two years got a truck and a welders license but my tire went flat and I can’t get out here…”

Bad night for Good Earl of Big Sandy- his car stalls, then has a flat and all the while his diabetic daughter is thrashing around like a catfish on hot asphalt inside of her fat girlfriend Sandy.

“…and I just need…”

“I’m sorry”, I reply, honestly, “but I don’t have a penny on me.”

“Oh yeah… I wadn’t lookin for no handout… I just need a ride…”

Mhmm. Hence the assurances I’ll have my money that you didn’t plan to ask for back once you get to your welding job after I take you to someplace where they patch flats, jump-off cars, fill prescriptions and sell padded-tongue sticks in exchange for welding at 1:00 a.m. M’hmmm.

But all I said was: “Sorry… I can’t help you… I’m blind as a bat after sundown”

“Yeah look… if… hey, there somebody else… Nice talkin’ with you man God bless you heah” and he’s off to a car that’s parking down the street (filled by my neighbor Wanda, the only successful clone of the late Shirley Hemphill who I hear bringing him to Jesus by way of an ass chewing before I get inside my door).

These people make me feel so terrible but not for the reasons they should. I like to think of myself as a compassionate person, generous and giving and caring, but then I like to think of myself as an astronaut to but NASA won’t even return my calls. When I was younger I would always spare some change or a small bill or two or at very least some cigarettes whenever some pathetic soul appeared and went into the spiel, figuring that "There’s always a chance s/he’s telling the truth and even if s/he’s just a wino or a junkie, hell, they’re paying their dues… " but I just got fucking sick of it after a while, and I think what did it more than
anything else is the story angle.

Look, just say *“I’m jonesing for crack like Oscar Wilde for some Bosey ass, you owe me nothing but I’m pathetic, please buy me an hour of peace for no other reason than the fact you can for less than the price of a Big Mac” and I’ll consider it (not long, but I will consider it) but so help me Ahura Mazda I literally heard the damned “pregnant wife in Torquemada Springs” and exact dollar amount three times within 48 hours in three separate cities (Montgomery, Macon GA and Atlanta). And it irritates me that I almost don’t care if they’re telling the truth or not, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! Tis all I ask.

And if there are children involved… oy… the guilt and anger. An encounter I had last Thanksgiving, one of several involving kids.)
*Big Sandy, I now know, is a small rural community about 15 miles from where I live.

30

A friend and I went to San Francisco for a weekend last December. As we pulled up to the valet in front of the hotel and got out of my car, this guy comes up and says,

“Spare change ma’am?”.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have any cash on me.”
“WELL FUCK YOU FUCKING BITCH.”
:eek:
:confused:
:mad:
“Well, ASSHOLE, I sure as fuck don’t feel any pity for you now.”

Four people that were walking by then applauded me.

I’m normally as nice as I can be and give as much as I can, but this guy was just an asshole. Plus, I really only had my credit card/ATM on me. Seriously, you’d think this guy would know you catch more flies with honey then vinegar.

31

I don’t find myself in areas that have panhandlers often.

When I do encounter them, I am polite. However, I rarely give anything.

Most humbling experience - was walking out of a high end pool hall / night club downtown. There were 3 street people propped up against the wall outside of the door to the club. One of the people said something along the lines of “Excuse me, sir?” Without breaking stride, I said “I don’t have anything for you.” and I kept walking. I was about 10 feet away when I heard one of them say to the other “but you didn’t ask him for anything.”

32

My wife routinely walks around with apples, oranges, and similar items in her pockets. She’s a healthy eater, and tends to graze on fruits and vegetables throughout the day.

She was routinely asked for “money to buy some food.” She would routinely (not in an insulting way; unlike me, my wife does not have the insult gene) pull out a fresh orange or apple and offer it. Her offer was never accepted, though she always got incredibly ugly looks and/or mumbled curses.

33

It may be that I am just in some sort of a weird brutal funk of a mood, but I don’t see this experience as particularly humbling. Naturally, I was not there but I doubt that he was trying to get your attention so that he could give you money. Chances are that his friend was trying to salvage some of his dignity for him.

34

Giving money to panhandlers is akin to feeding the bears at Yosemite.

35

God, the candy. If it’s legit, and if they could find something better than sun-warmed Butterfingers and Baby Ruths to sell, I might buy something.

To the OP: To solve the coffee problem you should do what I do: grind and brew a thermosful of my own fresh coffee at home, and bring it to work. You can buy the best of the best, like pure Kona or Blue Mountain, and pay less for the indulgence than you do in the shop.

36

Yeah, I could do that. The issue is that I really do find value in getting away from the office for a few momnets during the day. It sort of helps me to re focus and is part of getting out of the mid-afternoon slump.

37

I don’t understand why people feel so defensive about saying “no” to panhandlers, and why they feel a need to apologize–“sorry”–and to give an excuse, “I don’t have any change”, “I’m blind as a bat after sundown”. Why not just say, “No”, unashamedly and unapologetically? That’s what I do. Just, “No.”

Saw one this morning working the Kroger parking lot, patiently going from car to car, asking for “change”. Rapped on my window while I sat there checking my “To Do” list. “You got any change?”

“No.”

And the thing was, this morning Kroger was newly plastered with signs all over the front windows–“NOW HIRING, CHECKERS, BAGGERS, GROCERY HELP”. This is the Kroger that makes a point of hiring handicapped and disabled baggers and stockboys.

38

Beautiful story, Sampiro!

Smiling Bandit, the “I’ll be honest, I just want booze” is one of the oldest tricks in the world. Give if it makes you happy, but them folks are just tugging on your hepcat strings instead of your heartstrings.

My favorite approach ever was by this cute punk girl who said, “I’ll be you a dollar I can guess the day you were born within three days.”

How could I resist? I bet her the dollar, and sure enough, she won.

Daniel

39

I don’t like panhandlers especially, but what I like even less are, like others have mentioned, the “charities” and other panhandlers that request donations in the middle of the road near an intersection. They are not only creating a traffic inconvenience, but also a traffic safety issue when they step out in the middle of the street. I’m of half a mind to roll down my window and when they get close scream “WHY DONT YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE ROAD?”

40

Hah, did she say something like “Tuesday”?