Many many years ago, back in the mid-1980's, I remember seeing a poor slob standing on a street corner holding a sign that read, "Will Work for Food." Because I had never seen anything like this before, I honestly believed that this person was so poor, so down on his luck, that he was willing to go to your house and perform any job in exchange for nourishment. My heart was nearly broken. How sad was this poor man's plight! He barely had enough energy to stand and he was willing to nearly kill himself just to prevent starvation.
Well, bud, things have changed. Around the 1990's, this whole "Will Work for Food" scheme got some major tweaking. Apparently, few people, if any, were actually looking for food. And they damn sure weren't expecting to do any work. They wanted cash -- and lots of it.
Now, I'm not going to go on and on about who these schemes are actually scams. I'm not going to rant cynically about how I came to learn that many of these beggars have decent homes, drive relatively normal cars, or are simply drug users who, after accumulating the requisite number of greenbacks, jump in their SUVs which they've strategically parked down the street, and head off to local crack dealer's. You won't hear that from me. Not I!
What you will hear is how these people have turned almost every major intersection into an even bigger traffic nightmare than it already is. It's like they've staked out this territory and registered it as a business address. And the same poor slobs show up at the same place every day! One would think that, by collecting all that cash, their luck would change. I mean, the least they could do is provide us with an update. Are they still homeless? Are they still hungry? Hasn't anything improved?
And then there are those signs. Though most them carry pretty much the same message, there are a few variations. The popular choice is, "homeless, please help, God bless" and of course, some of those words must be misspelled. And the sign--it must be crinkled up and dirty. I mean, who's going to give money to some articulate dude with a nice, fresh sign? And if you think you're going to make money dressed in nice, clean clothing, you've got another thing coming. Smear some coal on that face. Tear a hole in those ill fitting pants. Grow a beard and call yourself a Vietnam vet. Heck, lose a shoe. Nothing pulls at the heart strings more than a dirty, tattered, insane, asymmetrically dressed idiot!
But I'm being cynical again. The thing that really bugs me is how they conduct their enterprise. They stroll (limping) from car to car, looking down on you with that sad, dog-eyed face -- holding out their hand like they're a dollar away from death. And then when someone rolls down the window to hand them a George Washington, suddenly they can run like the wind -- cutting through through traffic like a New England Patriots running back. "Thank you" or "God bless you" can be heard from car lengths away -- as if to send a message to all the other indifferent, self-centered, greedy drivers who only care about getting home from work. Listen up, people. There's an angel here!
And all of this occurs at the exact moment the light has changed to green. So, of course, traffic can't move because the not-so-poor-anymore slob has to complete his transaction. The "giver" needs time to massage his middle class guilt -- and the "getter" has to advertise to the rest of the world that yes, his scam is working.
You see, there's nothing like being a captive audience. Just about anywhere else, you can avoid beggars. On the street, you keep on walking. If some charity sends you a solicitation -- you recycle it. Someone calls you at home; say "no, thank you" and hang up. But in traffic you are stuckerino. The only place worse is the subway and most cities will toss those guys out on their ear. But no one is going after the intersection-shake-down-artist. In fact, many of them are being permitted to set up shop right in the median if there's any space. I've seen backpacks, coolers, pets -- even a barcalounger. Yes, a freaking barcalounger.
Well, bud, things have changed. Around the 1990's, this whole "Will Work for Food" scheme got some major tweaking. Apparently, few people, if any, were actually looking for food. And they damn sure weren't expecting to do any work. They wanted cash -- and lots of it.
Now, I'm not going to go on and on about who these schemes are actually scams. I'm not going to rant cynically about how I came to learn that many of these beggars have decent homes, drive relatively normal cars, or are simply drug users who, after accumulating the requisite number of greenbacks, jump in their SUVs which they've strategically parked down the street, and head off to local crack dealer's. You won't hear that from me. Not I!
What you will hear is how these people have turned almost every major intersection into an even bigger traffic nightmare than it already is. It's like they've staked out this territory and registered it as a business address. And the same poor slobs show up at the same place every day! One would think that, by collecting all that cash, their luck would change. I mean, the least they could do is provide us with an update. Are they still homeless? Are they still hungry? Hasn't anything improved?
And then there are those signs. Though most them carry pretty much the same message, there are a few variations. The popular choice is, "homeless, please help, God bless" and of course, some of those words must be misspelled. And the sign--it must be crinkled up and dirty. I mean, who's going to give money to some articulate dude with a nice, fresh sign? And if you think you're going to make money dressed in nice, clean clothing, you've got another thing coming. Smear some coal on that face. Tear a hole in those ill fitting pants. Grow a beard and call yourself a Vietnam vet. Heck, lose a shoe. Nothing pulls at the heart strings more than a dirty, tattered, insane, asymmetrically dressed idiot!
But I'm being cynical again. The thing that really bugs me is how they conduct their enterprise. They stroll (limping) from car to car, looking down on you with that sad, dog-eyed face -- holding out their hand like they're a dollar away from death. And then when someone rolls down the window to hand them a George Washington, suddenly they can run like the wind -- cutting through through traffic like a New England Patriots running back. "Thank you" or "God bless you" can be heard from car lengths away -- as if to send a message to all the other indifferent, self-centered, greedy drivers who only care about getting home from work. Listen up, people. There's an angel here!
And all of this occurs at the exact moment the light has changed to green. So, of course, traffic can't move because the not-so-poor-anymore slob has to complete his transaction. The "giver" needs time to massage his middle class guilt -- and the "getter" has to advertise to the rest of the world that yes, his scam is working.
You see, there's nothing like being a captive audience. Just about anywhere else, you can avoid beggars. On the street, you keep on walking. If some charity sends you a solicitation -- you recycle it. Someone calls you at home; say "no, thank you" and hang up. But in traffic you are stuckerino. The only place worse is the subway and most cities will toss those guys out on their ear. But no one is going after the intersection-shake-down-artist. In fact, many of them are being permitted to set up shop right in the median if there's any space. I've seen backpacks, coolers, pets -- even a barcalounger. Yes, a freaking barcalounger.
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