How I handle Panhandlers

With the current economy, the way it is just about all over, I tend towards frugality. I'm a fair cook, eat at home, and when I go out it's usually a treat with friends--or sometimes to indulge myself with a self-given reward of a fish taco or a cool caramel frappucino. You know what I'm talking about.

Watching my money also extends to regular and potential purchases at the grocery store, computer stores (big weakness there), the hardware/home-repair stores (the Man toy store), and bookstores. However what ever I buy, the receipt is kept till it's entered in my budget spreadsheet, where I track all income, purchases and expenses. I know and totally respect the value of a dollar.

The point of this blog entry is to share how I handle panhandlers, using a basic philosophy I developed some years ago when it dawned in my naive youth's mind that what some folks ask for (money) and what they say they are going to use it for (e.g. gas or food) is often not the truth. And personally, with what I mentioned above, this really infuriates me when I #1 value honesty and #2 know that there are needy people out there who really are in hard times.

Take for example last night, true story. A friend invited me to dinner with some other mutual friends. I arrived on time and got out of my car to begin the short walk across the parking lot.

Immediately, I spotted and "knew" a man approaching was going to ask...

Man: "Excuse me sir. I know what this may look like. Sorry to bother you, but I was heading up to Sacramento and just down the road I ran out of gas. Can I have a few bucks to put some gas in my car?"

I sighed. I've lost count--really and truly--how many times I've heard some variation of the same thing. My response is very simple and I'll cut out all the exact dialog we exchanged for about five minutes. Essentially, the response goes something like this:

RULE: LISTEN AND OFFER TO GIVE THEM WHAT THEY ARE ASKING FOR, BUT NOT THE MONEY.

"Hi. Well I'm really sorry to hear that. Listen and please understand. I've learned over the years that my #1 rule of thumb, when people ask for money to get (so and so) gas or food is I will do whatever I can to help: if you need to get gas, I'll go with you and we'll get the gas. If you're hungry, we'll go get some food. And I've eaten many a meal with someone I did not know. Really. But, I will not give you any money directly. It's just a rule I've developed."

(Then oddly enough, though I have not done this in the past, a jewel of a thought hit me...)

I paused then continued. "Now, you need to understand, you coming up to me and asking me to believe you is a sign you're asking me to trust you and what you say. I'm willing to believe you--but to build on that trust I need to ask if you're willing to go with me to get the gas, we first drive to your car, you unlock it and we check the gas gauge to make sure it says what you say. I'm willing to really help you out, whatever it takes, but we need to trust each other first. Can we go to your car first?"

He then (of course) back pedaled and changed his story so that the whole situation was more about food. And as sincere as he came across, as winning as his lowly self could muster a reply, I countered with what I hoped was an empathetic response. "Look. You're now changing your story. Why didn't you ask me that in the first place? I'm sorry. You've broken what could have been a trust between us. I need to go. May I suggest, the next person you come up to you let them know truthfully about your need and not mess about."

And that is how I handle panhandlers. Works every time.

A Dry Time

I seem to be going through a dry time in my writing, like the nearby grassy hills that march into the Central Valley, washed in russet brown. It's a seasonal thing I know. And the early winter rains will feed the hills and grasses with nourishing water.

For myself I daily sit down and make the time to write and research and take notes and allow characters to move in and out of consciousness. They are alive. And the paper and computer screen yearns to capture a small facet of these adventurous lives who lived, loved and moved the world over a century ago.