Angry for a Very Good Reason (FINALLY)
Ramon and I had had - were having - a lovely afternoon up on the Broadway drag. I had a 2:30 haircut with Nicole (freakin' genius at making my untidy mess look like an intentional untidy mess) at Scream Barber, and we were wandering home after, stopping by our haunts. Bailey Coy books, Linda's for brunch, I turned the prayer wheel at Vajra and a brief visit to Urban Outfitters, but only to use the privy and to sneer at the gladiator sandals and the $20 hip flasks that say things like "Bitch" and "Horny". Ramon bought me flowers.
On the way out we stopped at Dick's for a chocolate shake and some fries - the line was about five deep as usual. As I waited for Ramon to pay I heard a voice behind me; a lady on the phone.
"Yeah, someone just 'small-changed' me, so I'm buying him a burger. I'm in line right now - talk to you later." This voiced in a loudish tone of complacent ennui. I looked over at her and saw a man beside her (I had seen him a couple of times that afternoon - a little shaggy, but tidily dressed and kind-looking, asking people here and there for money), looking sheepish. Many people were around.
She looked - well, it doesn't matter, save to say that she pretty much satisfied my prejudice about what a person who said things like that, and how they said it, would look like.
Hey, I feel put-upon sometimes, lots of times, when people ask me for money, and especially if they've got some kind of 'I'm different from the others, just in an unfortunate spot at the moment' spiel (some that I've heard from the same person, day after day - I know your Aunt in Tacoma didn't forget your return bus fare for the third day in a row, love). I don't like it that I get hit up more than once every day in this town, and I hardly ever cough up. I hate hearing the conversations that people have to have about The Homeless Problem or the 'get a job' mentality of the cats who feel like they need a reason not to give their hard-earned cash to someone just because they asked for it. I still seethe with rage at the memory of the dude who yelled at me when I told him no: "Well, what fuckin' GOOD are ya?!" The whole homeless/panhandler issue is a thorny nest of not fun thinky thoughts for me. Seeing things from many sides is a sonuvabitch sometimes, no?
This one cut me down, man. Hurt me right to the heart. I hated that woman - I was so mad I was tearing up on our way home. Who DOES that to someone? Some people like buying food for folks who ask them for money, cool. Not my way, of course - I give 'em money and they do what they like with it - but still better than giving people nothing at all or speeching them out about their naughty vagrant ways. But insisting on buying food and then shouting it all over creation - WHILE the poor sucker is with you, for the love of Pete - not nice. Not loving. Maybe not worth it, to that guy.
Sorry, no 'You see, Timmy' moment to cap this one off. I'm just angry, angry, angry. And hurt. And you know what hurt angry people do in this great age - yes.
Yes, we blog about it. Good stuff.
On the way out we stopped at Dick's for a chocolate shake and some fries - the line was about five deep as usual. As I waited for Ramon to pay I heard a voice behind me; a lady on the phone.
"Yeah, someone just 'small-changed' me, so I'm buying him a burger. I'm in line right now - talk to you later." This voiced in a loudish tone of complacent ennui. I looked over at her and saw a man beside her (I had seen him a couple of times that afternoon - a little shaggy, but tidily dressed and kind-looking, asking people here and there for money), looking sheepish. Many people were around.
She looked - well, it doesn't matter, save to say that she pretty much satisfied my prejudice about what a person who said things like that, and how they said it, would look like.
Hey, I feel put-upon sometimes, lots of times, when people ask me for money, and especially if they've got some kind of 'I'm different from the others, just in an unfortunate spot at the moment' spiel (some that I've heard from the same person, day after day - I know your Aunt in Tacoma didn't forget your return bus fare for the third day in a row, love). I don't like it that I get hit up more than once every day in this town, and I hardly ever cough up. I hate hearing the conversations that people have to have about The Homeless Problem or the 'get a job' mentality of the cats who feel like they need a reason not to give their hard-earned cash to someone just because they asked for it. I still seethe with rage at the memory of the dude who yelled at me when I told him no: "Well, what fuckin' GOOD are ya?!" The whole homeless/panhandler issue is a thorny nest of not fun thinky thoughts for me. Seeing things from many sides is a sonuvabitch sometimes, no?
This one cut me down, man. Hurt me right to the heart. I hated that woman - I was so mad I was tearing up on our way home. Who DOES that to someone? Some people like buying food for folks who ask them for money, cool. Not my way, of course - I give 'em money and they do what they like with it - but still better than giving people nothing at all or speeching them out about their naughty vagrant ways. But insisting on buying food and then shouting it all over creation - WHILE the poor sucker is with you, for the love of Pete - not nice. Not loving. Maybe not worth it, to that guy.
Sorry, no 'You see, Timmy' moment to cap this one off. I'm just angry, angry, angry. And hurt. And you know what hurt angry people do in this great age - yes.
Yes, we blog about it. Good stuff.
posted by Cerise at 4:37 PM
3 comments
