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Published
in Gulf News, February 13, 2007
Keeping them
off the streets
Every
so
often our doorbell rings, and I open the door to a hulk carrying
a clipboard. The hulk's story usually goes that he is in school
and is selling newspaper subscriptions to help with his fees.
As
I turn to point at the 100sq ft or so of carpet the LA Times
and the Orange County Register cover every day with their
supplements, classified sections and magazines, the hulk hastily
embellishes the story. "No the subscription is not for you.
You sign up, but the paper actually goes to my school." His
claim is that the school uses the newspapers to enhance its mathematics,
English and economics classes.
It's
easy to say no to a subscription for oneself, but how can one be
so churlish as to deny a bright-eyed teenager access to education?
The hulk usually senses this millisecond's hesitation and leaps
for the emotional jugular. "Please help me, this is what is
keeping me off the streets and away from the gangs." He also
recounts tales that suggest we live in the rudest apartment community
in the county. My neighbours, he says, have slammed doors in his
face, promised to pay but never coughed up, and even, in one case,
come out brandishing a metal pipe because the hulk knocked too loudly.
So
one recent evening, I reached for my cheque book and signed $20
away to the OC Post. The hulk's ingratiating manner suddenly
became all business, and the very instant his fingers closed around
the cheque, he was down the hall, ringing my neighbour's doorbell.
Two
days later, we had three newspapers at our door. "How nice,"
I thought. "They're sending me a complimentary copy of the
OC Post - probably hoping we'll subscribe."
However,
after receiving the paper for several days, and then getting a letter
from the vice-president of circulation welcoming us to the OC
Post fold, the penny dropped. The hulk was selling regular subscriptions
but knew that this left him too easily rebuffed by a simple "we
already get it" or "we don't want it". And so, the
school story. However, this being close to Los Angeles, the "keep
me off the streets" angle was all too probable.
This
is why the next hulk that came along wasn't summarily dismissed.
When I told him of the earlier hulk's deceit, we got into a discussion
that went on the lines of: "Okay, forget the newspaper, just
help me out with some money. Gimme ten. Not even ten, gimme five.
Not even five, gimme one."
I decided
that one dollar was a good token gesture - not enough to add to
his substance fund (in case he had one), but enough to make him
feel his five minutes of impassioned pleading hadn't been entirely
in vain. Heck, I'd even throw in a quarter and give him enough to
take a bus across town.
I didn't
have a note though, so I tipped over our change jar to pick up a
fistful of quarters. "Oh man, not change," he said. I
apologised and told him there were at least a couple of dollars
there - may be even three. He waved the money aside and moved on
- not too proud to lie to me, not too proud to ask for a dollar,
but too proud accept coins.
Totally
confused about the right approach, I began to think my friend Paul
had the cleanest solution. As soon as you see a hulk and his clipboard,
say no and close the door. It seems abrupt, but then which would
you rather: an amputation done rudely with an axe or apologetically
with a penknife?
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