I used to give money to bums from time to time. Bums, homeless people, guys down on their luck. But after a few years of living in Memphis (or any major city) you get a little cold. I used to work downtown and you couldn't walk ten feet without some stranger approaching you and asking for something...some change, a cigarette, a dollar for something to eat. You feel sorry for a lot of these guys at first. But let me tell ya something, brotha-I can't spare a dime. I got so sick of the con stories so many years ago that I'm sure one day someone in real need of help will get none from me. For that person, I'm apologize in advance. Sorry. The other bums ruined it for ya. Sell it to someone else, mister. David Jett ain't buying.
SIDE NOTE: Back in my younger days, when I would find myself in a strip club from time to time, I noticed that about once an hour, the homeliest stripper would come around to all of the gentleman patrons and ask for a dollar. You never saw the really hot gals doing this, well, cause they were making money. Tips, table dances. So the gals not making money had to come around to all the guys and shame them into giving them a dollar. And they always said the same thing, "Can I have a dollar for the jukebox?" This cracked me up because at one point, maybe during the 1950's, strip clubs had jukeboxes. Right before a girl went on stage, she had to go to the jukebox, pick the song she wanted to dance to, and pony up a quarter. See, that shit makes sense. But by time I ever set foot in a strip club, they had DJ's. And big DJ sound systems that could play "Pour Some Sugar On Me" so loud that your dick would get hard from the sonic vibrations (that really helped the girls with small tits.) Nonetheless, the gals still used the old phrase "dollar for the jukebox." I used to call it "dollar so you will get the hell away from me." You can apply the same thing to bums. Except for the fact that if I ever run into a bum with big tits, she might get two dollars.
I actually did go to a strip club once that still had a jukebox and the girls still had to walk over and play their own song before they danced. This was in Camden, TN. It was kinda sad. I'm talking about the fact that I was actually in Camden. What's even sadder, though, is the time I was in Washington, DC years ago and wandered into a downtown strip club. It's some sort of law there that the girls have to clean the stage after their routines. So you see some gal getting all naked, the song would end, and she would whip out a big bottle of Windex and paper towels and wipe down the stage mirrors and the floor. Let me tell ya, there's nothing sexier than watching a cute gal get naked, dance around, tease you with sex that is not going to happen, and then do household chores. If I wanted that, I would get married...
Ok, back to the bum stories...
Earlier today I was in a local comics shop (or as I girl I know once called it, "The Nerd Store.") So some middle-aged gal in a wheelchair rolls in. She's frantic. Distraught. She may have been legit. She certainly seemed it. She asked the guy at the counter if the owner was in. He said no, but how could he help her. (by the way, the owner was on the other side of the store. I know this cause I know the guys who work there. I'm just leaving their names out of this story to protect the innocent.)
She then went into her story. Her mother had died a few days ago and the funeral was tomorrow. In Houston. She needed a little more money for the airplane ticket to get back there in time. The pastor at the church a block away from the comics store was going to give her the money. He was supposed to meet her at the church to do so. But because it was raining today, she was late getting there. And the pastor had left. And he was too far away to get back in time to give her the money so she could catch her flight. All she needed was $27.
When the counter guy told her that he was broke, she asked if he knew of some place she could get the money. He, sounding sincere, said he really didn't know of a place that could help her. She then almost had a breakdown and said she was scared that she wouldn't make her mother's funeral and that she was running out of time, and she was on the verge of tears. She sounded legit. At least five aisles over, which is where I was by this time. Seriously, by this time, I was over in the Dungeons & Dragons part of the store. That's how much I was hiding.
She then asked if it would be ok if she asked the customers in the store for money. She was allowed to do that. She WAS convincing. I then moved over to some other horse-shit section I've never been in. And fuck a bunch of eye-contact, man! I was slinking around like immigration had just pulled up in the Home Depot parking lot. When I did go up to check out, I got some shit for wandering all over the store during her story. "I'll get that Humanitarian of the Year Award in the mail for ya!"
Pot, meet kettle.
To this person's credit, (and lack of cynicism,) someone gave her the money. I'm thinking it may have been less for the "jukebox" and more for the "get away from."
Once again, let me say that she seemed legit. She was about to have a nervous breakdown right there. She was about to cry. Her voice trembled. It gave you doubt. But let's think about her story. She had to fly to Houston for her mother's funeral. She was in a wheel-chair. She had little time left to catch the flight. In these post-9/11 days? You can't just roll up (or "roll up") to the gate at the last minute and get on the flight. You have to be there hours before. And what's with the $27 dollars? What if there were extra charges for the luggage and such? Airlines are doing that now. Did she drive to the comics store in a handicapped friendly van or car? Why couldn't she drive to Houston? If I had tomorrow off, I would have offered to drive her to Houston. If she agreed, I would have been doing a good deed. If she declined, well...but I wasn't in the mood to call her bluff. Or not bluff. Mostly, I didn't think about that until I got home. Damn it!
Here's a recent story from Milwaukee:
Woman's false stories tap into Catholics' generosity
ST. FRANCIS - Escaped from an abusive relationship, pregnant with her fourth set of twins, lost wallet, no food for her family.
Deborah Johnson or Anderson, as she often refers to herself, told several Milwaukee area Catholic churches she was all these things as part of a seemingly endless number of heartbreaking stories and requests for money, church officials say.
"My parents committed suicide and I need money to get to their funeral," she told pastors and parishioners. "I need money to pay for the funeral of my son who was killed by a hit and run driver. I need bus money to get to Madison to see my dying son who has been hospitalized for over a year. I need gas money so I can deal with a family crisis."
In reality, a cautionary notice distributed to parishes by the Milwaukee Archdiocesan Chancery office describes the middle-aged woman as 160-170 pounds with light reddish brown hair and glasses as a smooth talking con artist who has repeatedly preyed on area churches and their unsuspecting parishioners in recent months. Her suspected scams have caused a stir among Milwaukee area churches, with pastors and officials from nearly a dozen parishes claiming they've been swindled out of hundreds or thousands of dollars in church funds or private donations which could have been used for needy causes.
"She used to visit regularly and her stories made you feel very sorry for her," she said. "In fact, she brought me an angel that I still have sitting by my desk. I'm not sure where she got it - she may have stolen it from her mother because her mother no longer wanted to help her. I often see that angel, pray for her, and ask God to give her a sense of reality. Some people just don't have reality."
To most members, Deborah didn't fit the stereotypical idea of a scam artist in part, because she was clean-cut, neatly dressed and soft spoken. She blended into the parish community, often with one or more children in tow.
A recent notice in the bulletin at St. Mary Church, Menomonee Falls, portrayed her as polite, with a small black boy approximately 8- to 10-years-old.
"This woman's tales of woe range from escaping from an abusive relationship, to various other misfortunes," the article said. "Her recent endeavor is approaching parishioners after Mass asking for gas money, stating she has a family crisis. She travels about in a van and is known to live near Mitchell Field. Please be aware of this scam and if you are approached by this individual or anyone else requesting money, please refer them to the parish office. During the course of the year, we get a fair number of people who stop in and ask for help. Our caring ministry is set up to screen these people and work with those who legitimately need help."
I also ran across this story on a New York blog:
About a year ago, I was on the 4/5/6 train when two people got on. They were looking for money. It was a man and his wife. Their story was that their daughter had died in a fire and they were looking for donations so they could pay for her funeral. The guy stated that it would cost them $325. I remember thinking that, if his story was legit, it was really very sad. If it was fake, it was really brilliant and horribly shitty. He even had the death certificate.
Well, I made a note of it and told my husband about it. He was pretty certain it was fake. I, for some reason, had my doubts. (Wishful thinking?)
Last night, I was on the L Train when the same couple got on. And guess what? They gave the exact same story. I was furious, which is pretty pathetic. I mean, of course they were full of crap! I'm such a lame, naive New Yorker! How long have I lived here? I guess I wanted to believe that no one would stoop that low. Go figure.
Clearly, I need my New Yorker ID revoked.
Maybe the wheelchair gal I saw today was legit. It's sad, but I felt no need to help her. That's how assholes in the world turn other people into assholes. It's like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. But if she really did need help, well, at least she got it. And the guy who gave her money was the owner of the store. Maybe he was doing something good for someone. Maybe he didn't want a guilty conscience. Maybe he wanted her out of his store so she didn't bother customers. It cost him $27 either way. And that's a win for him. It's like he bet on a horse for "win, place or show."
Me. Well, I couldn't spare any money. Not on a week when a new "The Walking Dead" comes out as well as a "Secret Invasion!" Seriously, dead mother or not, I need to know if Mockingbird was really a Skrull! (she was.)
And if you meet me on the street and ask for a dollar, you better tell me it's for the jukebox. Cause that's the only thing I'll believe these days.
And now for something completely the same: my brother told me a story that happened to him this past weekend. He and his wife went out for breakfast. There was some bum there saying all he needed was another dollar or so to get breakfast. My brother avoided him, but his wife got all teary. So my brother said, "well, I'm not giving him money, but if he wants to eat, I'll spring for breakfast for him." So my brother went outside, got the guy, and said he would pay for his breakfast. The guy came in, got breakfast. After he ate some of the food, he went to the front counter and said his food was bad and inedible, and wanted his money back. And there you have it.
SIDE NOTE: Back in my younger days, when I would find myself in a strip club from time to time, I noticed that about once an hour, the homeliest stripper would come around to all of the gentleman patrons and ask for a dollar. You never saw the really hot gals doing this, well, cause they were making money. Tips, table dances. So the gals not making money had to come around to all the guys and shame them into giving them a dollar. And they always said the same thing, "Can I have a dollar for the jukebox?" This cracked me up because at one point, maybe during the 1950's, strip clubs had jukeboxes. Right before a girl went on stage, she had to go to the jukebox, pick the song she wanted to dance to, and pony up a quarter. See, that shit makes sense. But by time I ever set foot in a strip club, they had DJ's. And big DJ sound systems that could play "Pour Some Sugar On Me" so loud that your dick would get hard from the sonic vibrations (that really helped the girls with small tits.) Nonetheless, the gals still used the old phrase "dollar for the jukebox." I used to call it "dollar so you will get the hell away from me." You can apply the same thing to bums. Except for the fact that if I ever run into a bum with big tits, she might get two dollars.
I actually did go to a strip club once that still had a jukebox and the girls still had to walk over and play their own song before they danced. This was in Camden, TN. It was kinda sad. I'm talking about the fact that I was actually in Camden. What's even sadder, though, is the time I was in Washington, DC years ago and wandered into a downtown strip club. It's some sort of law there that the girls have to clean the stage after their routines. So you see some gal getting all naked, the song would end, and she would whip out a big bottle of Windex and paper towels and wipe down the stage mirrors and the floor. Let me tell ya, there's nothing sexier than watching a cute gal get naked, dance around, tease you with sex that is not going to happen, and then do household chores. If I wanted that, I would get married...
Ok, back to the bum stories...
Earlier today I was in a local comics shop (or as I girl I know once called it, "The Nerd Store.") So some middle-aged gal in a wheelchair rolls in. She's frantic. Distraught. She may have been legit. She certainly seemed it. She asked the guy at the counter if the owner was in. He said no, but how could he help her. (by the way, the owner was on the other side of the store. I know this cause I know the guys who work there. I'm just leaving their names out of this story to protect the innocent.)
She then went into her story. Her mother had died a few days ago and the funeral was tomorrow. In Houston. She needed a little more money for the airplane ticket to get back there in time. The pastor at the church a block away from the comics store was going to give her the money. He was supposed to meet her at the church to do so. But because it was raining today, she was late getting there. And the pastor had left. And he was too far away to get back in time to give her the money so she could catch her flight. All she needed was $27.
When the counter guy told her that he was broke, she asked if he knew of some place she could get the money. He, sounding sincere, said he really didn't know of a place that could help her. She then almost had a breakdown and said she was scared that she wouldn't make her mother's funeral and that she was running out of time, and she was on the verge of tears. She sounded legit. At least five aisles over, which is where I was by this time. Seriously, by this time, I was over in the Dungeons & Dragons part of the store. That's how much I was hiding.
She then asked if it would be ok if she asked the customers in the store for money. She was allowed to do that. She WAS convincing. I then moved over to some other horse-shit section I've never been in. And fuck a bunch of eye-contact, man! I was slinking around like immigration had just pulled up in the Home Depot parking lot. When I did go up to check out, I got some shit for wandering all over the store during her story. "I'll get that Humanitarian of the Year Award in the mail for ya!"
Pot, meet kettle.
To this person's credit, (and lack of cynicism,) someone gave her the money. I'm thinking it may have been less for the "jukebox" and more for the "get away from."
Once again, let me say that she seemed legit. She was about to have a nervous breakdown right there. She was about to cry. Her voice trembled. It gave you doubt. But let's think about her story. She had to fly to Houston for her mother's funeral. She was in a wheel-chair. She had little time left to catch the flight. In these post-9/11 days? You can't just roll up (or "roll up") to the gate at the last minute and get on the flight. You have to be there hours before. And what's with the $27 dollars? What if there were extra charges for the luggage and such? Airlines are doing that now. Did she drive to the comics store in a handicapped friendly van or car? Why couldn't she drive to Houston? If I had tomorrow off, I would have offered to drive her to Houston. If she agreed, I would have been doing a good deed. If she declined, well...but I wasn't in the mood to call her bluff. Or not bluff. Mostly, I didn't think about that until I got home. Damn it!
Here's a recent story from Milwaukee:
Woman's false stories tap into Catholics' generosity
ST. FRANCIS - Escaped from an abusive relationship, pregnant with her fourth set of twins, lost wallet, no food for her family.
Deborah Johnson or Anderson, as she often refers to herself, told several Milwaukee area Catholic churches she was all these things as part of a seemingly endless number of heartbreaking stories and requests for money, church officials say.
"My parents committed suicide and I need money to get to their funeral," she told pastors and parishioners. "I need money to pay for the funeral of my son who was killed by a hit and run driver. I need bus money to get to Madison to see my dying son who has been hospitalized for over a year. I need gas money so I can deal with a family crisis."
In reality, a cautionary notice distributed to parishes by the Milwaukee Archdiocesan Chancery office describes the middle-aged woman as 160-170 pounds with light reddish brown hair and glasses as a smooth talking con artist who has repeatedly preyed on area churches and their unsuspecting parishioners in recent months. Her suspected scams have caused a stir among Milwaukee area churches, with pastors and officials from nearly a dozen parishes claiming they've been swindled out of hundreds or thousands of dollars in church funds or private donations which could have been used for needy causes.
"She used to visit regularly and her stories made you feel very sorry for her," she said. "In fact, she brought me an angel that I still have sitting by my desk. I'm not sure where she got it - she may have stolen it from her mother because her mother no longer wanted to help her. I often see that angel, pray for her, and ask God to give her a sense of reality. Some people just don't have reality."
To most members, Deborah didn't fit the stereotypical idea of a scam artist in part, because she was clean-cut, neatly dressed and soft spoken. She blended into the parish community, often with one or more children in tow.
A recent notice in the bulletin at St. Mary Church, Menomonee Falls, portrayed her as polite, with a small black boy approximately 8- to 10-years-old.
"This woman's tales of woe range from escaping from an abusive relationship, to various other misfortunes," the article said. "Her recent endeavor is approaching parishioners after Mass asking for gas money, stating she has a family crisis. She travels about in a van and is known to live near Mitchell Field. Please be aware of this scam and if you are approached by this individual or anyone else requesting money, please refer them to the parish office. During the course of the year, we get a fair number of people who stop in and ask for help. Our caring ministry is set up to screen these people and work with those who legitimately need help."
I also ran across this story on a New York blog:
About a year ago, I was on the 4/5/6 train when two people got on. They were looking for money. It was a man and his wife. Their story was that their daughter had died in a fire and they were looking for donations so they could pay for her funeral. The guy stated that it would cost them $325. I remember thinking that, if his story was legit, it was really very sad. If it was fake, it was really brilliant and horribly shitty. He even had the death certificate.
Well, I made a note of it and told my husband about it. He was pretty certain it was fake. I, for some reason, had my doubts. (Wishful thinking?)
Last night, I was on the L Train when the same couple got on. And guess what? They gave the exact same story. I was furious, which is pretty pathetic. I mean, of course they were full of crap! I'm such a lame, naive New Yorker! How long have I lived here? I guess I wanted to believe that no one would stoop that low. Go figure.
Clearly, I need my New Yorker ID revoked.
Maybe the wheelchair gal I saw today was legit. It's sad, but I felt no need to help her. That's how assholes in the world turn other people into assholes. It's like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. But if she really did need help, well, at least she got it. And the guy who gave her money was the owner of the store. Maybe he was doing something good for someone. Maybe he didn't want a guilty conscience. Maybe he wanted her out of his store so she didn't bother customers. It cost him $27 either way. And that's a win for him. It's like he bet on a horse for "win, place or show."
Me. Well, I couldn't spare any money. Not on a week when a new "The Walking Dead" comes out as well as a "Secret Invasion!" Seriously, dead mother or not, I need to know if Mockingbird was really a Skrull! (she was.)
And if you meet me on the street and ask for a dollar, you better tell me it's for the jukebox. Cause that's the only thing I'll believe these days.
And now for something completely the same: my brother told me a story that happened to him this past weekend. He and his wife went out for breakfast. There was some bum there saying all he needed was another dollar or so to get breakfast. My brother avoided him, but his wife got all teary. So my brother said, "well, I'm not giving him money, but if he wants to eat, I'll spring for breakfast for him." So my brother went outside, got the guy, and said he would pay for his breakfast. The guy came in, got breakfast. After he ate some of the food, he went to the front counter and said his food was bad and inedible, and wanted his money back. And there you have it.