Oh, Vagrants

I'm waiting in the deli line with Rachael today at Stop & Shop in Dorchester, she's getting a pound of everything: cheese, roast beef, turkey, all pounds. I'm from a half-pound-sliced-thin family, and the pounds look inherently flawed.

One of the women behind the counter looks past me and says "Hey, you gotta get out of here- if a manager sees you, they're gonna throw you out."

I've been spacing out a little bit (sandwich meats have that effect on me), so for a split second I think she's talking to me, then I realize there's this bum hobbling around, asking people for change as only a true bum can: in the bum vernacular that is essentially just sprawling incoherence.

What struck me was the fact that not only was he in a store, he was in a supermarket. Now, the only reason that most people ever give a bum change is if they're sure that they're actually helping a guy out, that meaning, they need some kind of an indication of what the bum intends to purchase.

If you're begging for change in a supermarket, it could go either way. It either seems like this guy is just cutting out the middle man (that being the walk from the corner to the store) or he's just broadening his horizons a bit, and he's going to buy crack.

I figured out, after seeing him walking around eating food off of the shelves, that he was probably going to be buying crack, and I felt like stopping him and explaining the error of his ways.

This guy didn't just steal an apple either, he went to the fucking soup and salad bar and picked out a meal, filled up some tupperware, and continued asking for:

"manadollahhelpamanagotsouthummmininsidethebestkindohohohdatsdawone"

Bum had balls, I'll give him that, but he forgot about one thing: the debit card.

This is, I'll be honest, how I get out of giving bums change. In the days before debit, I had learned to tighten the muscles in my thight so as to muffle any jingling of change coming from my pocket as I passed them.

But with the advent of the debit card, I am useless to a bum.

"Sorry man, no cash on me."

That's it. Game over Jamal.

That's not a racial joke, seriously, I knew a bum named Jamal that used to hang out downtown. He was alright, then I learned he was a heroin addict, and it saddened me a bit. He seemed pretty well put together in a lot of ways. I didn't stop giving him change, he was always smiling.

Probably because all of my change kept him fucked up twenty four hours a day. Whatever.

- - - -

I said earlier in this that people are less willing to give bums change if they feel they'll be buying drugs with the money. I think that's a really terrible way to look at things. If you're gonna give a bum change, just do it. Don't judge the guy, he's living on the street, in his own filth, being judged by everybody walking by him. Cut him some slack. I'm not saying you should give them cash all the time, I hardly ever do it myself, but, when I do, I give it out like it's nothing. Like your buddy needs an extra quarter to get on the train. You're not Mother Theresa. Flip the guy a quarter and maybe give him a nod.

Maybe I'm too much of an idealist, but I think sometimes that it's not too hard to make somebody's day.

- - - -

It'd make my mom's day if I got a decent grade on this paper I'm putting off, so back to that.