Homeless Encounter - WWYD?

Agreed.

 

I sometimes will give out gift certificates to fast-food and sandwich places, or occasionally, give people some actual food that I've picked up specifically for the purpose (you know, since I work at Walmart, where there are panhandlers at the entrances and exits to the parking lot on a, seriously, almost daily basis).

I never give out cash. Ever.

 

I always go the "I don't have any cash" route. Sometimes I will give a few bucks, like the guy who was actually carrying a gas can and seemed honest enough. Could have been a prop, I suppose. Never give to the guys on the street corners with the signs. Was a story recently about a guy in a JROTC uniform, claiming to be a veteran. When a serviceman stopped and asked if he could help, he busted the guy. And more than once I've declined to give money, only to have the person walk into the store behind me and buy a beer or a pack of cigs.

 

I don't make eye contact, don't listen, and kind of mumble as if I am listening to voices in my head. Which I am.

I am usually not bothered further. I think most of them decide I am more fucked up than they are.

 

My city has burned the compassion out of me. Not a day that goes by without "Hey! Big man! Can I axe you a question?"

Just yesterday, as I sat in the McD's parking lot to jump on their wifi, I got the less subtle pound on my window and "Hey! Give an old man some money!" (uh... no.)

I've been hit up for change by the same blonde dude for the better part of 15 years now. Helped the first few times, before getting wise.

Topper was when I first moved into my current place some 13 years ago. Leaving for work, girl sitting outside soaked and crying. I asked if she was okay, she said her friend kicked her out of her car and just needed to get to a certain gas station where another friend worked. It was on my way, so trying to be gallant I said I'd take her. Thirty seconds after the door closed I received offers of a) heroin, b) a blow job, c) a handy or d) all of the above as I started looking in the rear view mirror for the vice cops to close the deal on this sting operation. Pulled over, told her to get out. NOW. She tried to grab my work laptop bag on her way out.

F*ck compassion.

 

Too bad you were on your way to work.

 

Nothing wrong with a handy every now and then.

 

It's amazing how every panhandler at the intersection or the ramp has a leg injury and a limp.

I mean, the odds on that must be astronomical. And yet there it is.

 

Easiest thing to do is tell them, "Sorry, I don't have any money. I work for a newspaper."

 

Back in my newspapers days, I was stopped at an intersection. Press badge hanging from my rearview window. Raining. Feel bad for the guy begging and go to give him a few dollars. He sees the tag as I reach out and 'says, shit, you need that more than me." That made me think for a while. Was it my crummy car, my crummy clothes or the press badge....

That being said people who work with the homeless consistently say giving money is not the answer. Going to a soup kitchen with your church group is not the answer. Donating your old clothes is not the answer. It comes to helping them find work, find housing, getting them out of the situation instead of prolonging it.

of course, easier said than done

 

Yep. Someone approached me once in the parking lot of a convenience store and asked me if I could spare 93 cents so he could buy a can of oil for his car. Without hesitation I gave him a dollar. He looked down on his luck and believable. As I was pumping gas I saw him buy the can of oil.

 

When I was working the desk one night on a football Friday night, I usually didn't put the paper to bed until about 1:30 a.m. Getting out that late with a 45 minute drive ahead of me, I usually remembered to fill up on my way into work because the gas stations that late, even in a good area, can be a little scary.

That afternoon, I forgot and realized my gas tank wouldn't get me 45 miles back home. So I stopped at a gas station, against my better judgement and was one of only two cars there. As I pumped gas, I noticed this couple in this ragged car starring at me. Since I'm an enhanced concealed carry permit holder, I let the gas pump while I subtly clipped my holster containing my M1911 .45 semiautomatic on my belt, concealed by my long Oxford shirt. They couldn't see this from their vantage point. The passenger door on the car opens and this not unattractive 20-something woman gets out and begs me for $20 in gas to help them get to Texas because they're homeless and they've run out of money. I first say no, but she finally cajoles me into swiping my card at their gas pump across from me.

I notice her husband/boyfriend alternately looking at me or looking down into the car at something I can't see. He looks nervous and jumpy. Got to admit, I'm a bit scared here. My right hip is away from both, so I know they can't see my holster under my shirt. I swipe my card and she pumps $20 into the tank and not a dollar more. I notice him reaching down into the car and opening the door with a creepy look on his face that immediately puts me on guard. She moves to the other side of me and I notice I'm bracketed. I immediately pull up my shirt, unfasten the catch on my holster and put my hand on the trigger guard.

I let them know that if either of them made so much as one ill-timed move, I had no problem with dropping both of them right then and there. I backed up away from both of them slowly, never taking my eyes off both of them. Finally, the husband fired up the car and they drove off into the night. I don't know what they had planned for me, but I suspect it couldn't have been good.

Moral of the story: Don't pump gas at 1:45 AM. You have no idea who you might encounter.