Post by glenn on Jun 13, 2012 15:02:46 GMT -6
Patience
I live very near the downtown area of my town. So I often encounter panhandlers who ask for spare change. Some of these can be reasonably civil -- and some quite aggressive -- about the way they ask for money. Our city has converted a few parking meters into places to donate spare change. What is donated into the meters is then donated to local charities who assist the needy. It is felt that this approach reduces the chances of people being robbed by aggressive panhandlers. I don’t often have spare change, but when I do I feed the meter and not the problem.
There is one particular panhandler, an adult woman, who I seem to run into two or three times a day. She has a particularly annoying, wheedling way of asking for spare change. She clearly feels that she is entitled to any spare change that passers-by might have in their pockets or purses. She plants herself directly in front of people and asks for spare change in a way that sounds more like a demand. I find it quite vexing when I have an armful of groceries and she positions herself in front of me so that I must walk around her. Sometimes she repositions herself so that I cannot continue on my way.
I see her so often that I have learned from asking others about her that she receives a disability payment from the government. No doubt it is not much, but it meets all her needs as far as food and shelter and bus fare are concerned. She has her own apartment and a fridge full of food. I’m not sure where she gets her clothes from, but she wears different clothes every day, and sometimes seems to change into a fresh set of clothes in the middle of the day. She has no need to beg.
Some of the panhandlers I see downtown are clearly homeless. They look dirty, hungry, and hopeless. They are in dire need of help. This woman is none of these things. If she is given money by someone she immediately buys cigarettes and sits in the coffee shop smoking and sipping five-dollar-a-cup lattes. And when she runs out of money she goes back to the street and resumes her wheedling. I find her offensive and I go far out of my way to avoid her when I see her coming toward me.
Yesterday she cornered me on the street so that I had to listen to the set little speech she makes to panhandle money. I lost my patience and told her in no uncertain tone that she needed to get a life. But here I am today feeling guilty about it. Some people seem to be able to say No to her day after day and never seem to get bothered by her. I wish I knew how to do that. I suppose some days I just have a cupful of my own troubles and I can’t deal with any more. Not of my own and not of anyone else’s.
Some days I could use a donation of patience, I think.
I live very near the downtown area of my town. So I often encounter panhandlers who ask for spare change. Some of these can be reasonably civil -- and some quite aggressive -- about the way they ask for money. Our city has converted a few parking meters into places to donate spare change. What is donated into the meters is then donated to local charities who assist the needy. It is felt that this approach reduces the chances of people being robbed by aggressive panhandlers. I don’t often have spare change, but when I do I feed the meter and not the problem.
There is one particular panhandler, an adult woman, who I seem to run into two or three times a day. She has a particularly annoying, wheedling way of asking for spare change. She clearly feels that she is entitled to any spare change that passers-by might have in their pockets or purses. She plants herself directly in front of people and asks for spare change in a way that sounds more like a demand. I find it quite vexing when I have an armful of groceries and she positions herself in front of me so that I must walk around her. Sometimes she repositions herself so that I cannot continue on my way.
I see her so often that I have learned from asking others about her that she receives a disability payment from the government. No doubt it is not much, but it meets all her needs as far as food and shelter and bus fare are concerned. She has her own apartment and a fridge full of food. I’m not sure where she gets her clothes from, but she wears different clothes every day, and sometimes seems to change into a fresh set of clothes in the middle of the day. She has no need to beg.
Some of the panhandlers I see downtown are clearly homeless. They look dirty, hungry, and hopeless. They are in dire need of help. This woman is none of these things. If she is given money by someone she immediately buys cigarettes and sits in the coffee shop smoking and sipping five-dollar-a-cup lattes. And when she runs out of money she goes back to the street and resumes her wheedling. I find her offensive and I go far out of my way to avoid her when I see her coming toward me.
Yesterday she cornered me on the street so that I had to listen to the set little speech she makes to panhandle money. I lost my patience and told her in no uncertain tone that she needed to get a life. But here I am today feeling guilty about it. Some people seem to be able to say No to her day after day and never seem to get bothered by her. I wish I knew how to do that. I suppose some days I just have a cupful of my own troubles and I can’t deal with any more. Not of my own and not of anyone else’s.
Some days I could use a donation of patience, I think.
