Saturday around sunset, I found myself being approached by a homeless man looking for spare change outside of my favorite local liquor store (I won $2 dollars on a scratch off lotto ticket there, hence why its my favorite). After getting over the amazement of how many bags he was able to balance on his bike, I reached into my bag, un zipped the change portion of my wallet and pulled out whatever change my sausage fingers could link onto and handed it over.
After an exchange of change such as this, one usually hears the typical 'God Bless You' 'Thank you miss' 'You're one in a million' (okay so maybe not that last one, but a gal can dream). However, this exchange of change was different, for instead of a simple thank you or grunt, I received the following questions..."Did you count this? What is this? How much is this? Six cents? Is this a penny?" Once the initial wave of shock poured over me, I tried to answer all of his questions quickly and thoroughly as possible so not to seem rude. "Um, no, sorry, I didn't count it... it's all I have (lie)... I'm sorry, no, nope, didn't count it...eh yes, yes I guess it is six cents, again I didn't count it and that's all I have (again a lie), sorry." That's when things got real. The dickhead took the penny and held it out in front of my face and tried to return it to me, because apparently beggars REALLY are choosers. Really, when did the 'no penny donations' law pass? F***ing Bastard.
Look I realize that if I had dug little further in my bag I could have come up with an extra 15 cents and gum wrapper, or I could have been a saint and chucked him the five bucks I had shoved inbetween some old recents from the bar the night before, but I didn't because the stench of his grimy body and his stink eye stare were freaking me out. That said, I ALSO could have gotten back on my tin bike, which, for the record cost me a whopping $19.99 at Target three years ago and has a chain that pops off every other block, a seat that swivels when I ride so I always feel slightly off course and a brakes that are better known as the souls of my shoes, so I'm pretty sure, if compared, he would win the 'who's bike is better competition', but I didn't, I resisted riding off into the sunset and gave the fellow human in need the change that was readily available from my bag. Which apparently wasn't good enough.
Moral of the story, if you're going to be bold enough ask someone for spare change, or a back rub, just be damn grateful if they are nice enough to acknowledge the idea of your request by throwing some change, or oiled hands, your way regardless of the amount, or time, and move on with your day.
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