Panhandling

I have written before about my experiences with beggars and my general policies about it. I give pocket change to panhandlers. I try to do this not because I think it helps them much, but because of what I want my own character to be. Jesus said, “Give to whoever asks of you,” and I don’t do that perfectly, but I try to remember to give the destitute something.

Friday night I said no to a panhandler.

There are rules to panhandling, a kind of unwritten contract between the beggar and the mark. When people approach me for money, I am either alone or with my kids, and the panhandler is always very careful not to be threatening. Whether male or female, they stand four or five feet away, well out of arm range. They begin with “Pardon me, ma’am” or “Good morning, ma’am.” They ask for change, sometimes giving an excuse like bus fare or money for food. If I say yes, they patiently wait while I fish out my change. If I say no, they accept it without argument.

My favorite was a guy who asked for busfare. I had exactly twelve cents, so I gave it to him, saying, “That’s all I have.” He said thank you, and carefully selected the two pennies I had put in his palm. He handed them back to me and said, kindly, “You take these. You might need them.” I chuckled the rest of the day.

But the guy I refused on Friday broke the rules.

I was getting into my car in a dark parking lot in a busy shopping center. It was raining, so there was no one else outside. I buckled myself in and locked my door and was beginning to back the car out of the space, when a big man in a black coat walked up to the car and motioned for me to stop. I stopped, thinking there might be some emergency, but he said nothing. He stood there waiting for me to roll the window down. I didn’t. He said, angrily, “Everybody’s afraid of me!” I said nothing.

He asked for money to get some food “for my baby and my wife.” There was no one else around, and it seemed unlikely he would leave a baby and wife alone in the rain somewhere, so I assumed he was making them up. I said, “I can’t help you.” He pretended he could not hear me through the closed window. He wanted me to roll it down. I said, “No,” loudly and clearly. He said, “One dollar? Two dollars?” I said “No” again. He left, or stalked off might be more accurate.

There are dozens of ways people communicate threat, and despite the fears of lots of middle class people, most beggars are careful to avoid any threatening behavior; there is no benefit to it. This guy was exceptional. Everything about him communicated anger. I feel no guilt about saying no to bullies about anything. I muttered to myself as he left, ” I hope he wasn’t Jesus.” But I wasn’t really worried - somehow I don’t think Jesus would try to bully money out of people.

I am not sure why I am telling you this. I suppose because I have been dry on the blogging lately and this is the only thing that has happened lately. Or maybe it’s because of the concern some of you expressed on my last post on this subject: I want you to know I don’t take foolish risks. Or maybe it’s something even more self-serving. But most likely, it’s because I dislike bullies so much, that I want to resist this one a little more, even with a blog post.