Posts Tagged ‘homeless’

Please Give Generously

Wednesday, July 9th, 2008


As any regular reader of this blog knows, there is a laundry list of things that annoy me. Yesterday, I was reminded of something that really gets my goat (sidebar: I have no idea what that phrase even means – I don’t have a goat. Or any other farm animals for that matter. Let’s move on.)

 

When someone stops me on the street with a clipboard and attempts to get me to donate money to a random charity, I really just want to donate my fist to their mouth.

 

I understand that everyone needs to earn a buck, but there must be better ways to eek out a living than that.

 

Yesterday, on my lunch break, I was bombarded by people with clipboards asking me if I ‘have time for sick kids’. Then when you say no, you sound like an asshole. I’m not an asshole – I’m just lucky if I get 15 minutes to eat lunch, so I’d like to make it to the food court without someone’s cloud of judgement hanging over me because I don’t have time for some anonymous sick kids.

 

Where I lived in London (Hammersmith), I’m not sure if it was an area known for the giving nature of it’s residents, but you could not escape the clipboard mafia. Between my house and the train station, I would be asked to save the whales, donate to AIDS research, contribute to finding a cure for cancer, adopt an African child for just £2 a month, preserve the rain forest, save some more sick kids and feed the homeless.

 

Do I look like Donald Trump? Exactly how much money do these people think I earn? It felt like all these charities were in competition and came out in force to prove a point. It was literally like running a gamut. The only way to get through it was to throw on some armor, keep your head down and charge through it. Do not look up. Do not make eye contact. Leave them with no doubt that there’s a big black hole where your heart used to be and a big hole in your pocket where your change used to be and just pray those bitches leave you alone.

 

When I’m in a position to donate some of my measly income to something I believe in, I will, but damn, can I breathe? Must I be accosted on the street, on a daily basis, by people who wish to part me from my moolah?

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Next Stop – Funkytown

Monday, January 14th, 2008

For those of you who live in a big city, you’ve surely encountered your fair share of craziness. Personally, the crazy is a part of the reason I’m in love with the metropolis. Though, there’s certain ways the crazy manifests itself that I could really do without; that’s when people mix their crazy with a shot of nasty and parade it around in public areas, specifically on city transit.

 

Here are a few examples of when Crazy Meets Nasty that I’ve encountered around the world (if you’re eating, I suggest you put the fork down for a couple of minutes):

 

- A homeless man clipping his toenails at Covent Garden Station (with a large pair of scissors). If you know London, you know that Covent Garden is a high traffic area, increasing the chances of some poor bugger catching some shrapnel. Said hobo had been without shoes for some time – this should give you an idea of the length of toenails I’m talking about.
- A homeless woman hiked up her skirt and peed on the floor in the middle of the bus station in Leeds, UK. Strangely, she was, literally, steps away from the ladies room. She couldn’t hold it? This one was particularly disturbing because my grandmother was with me. My grandmother, the farm girl from rural Nova Scotia, Canada. This incident basically confirmed all her ideas about wild city living.
- I’ve had guys masturbate in front of me on trains twice; once in London, once in New York. The London incident was before 10am, which, I think, is entirely too early for masturbation in general, but especially in front of an audience. I should stress that I didn’t know either of the men involved (thankfully all the men I know are able to show a little more restraint). They were complete strangers who got on the train, eyed me up, whipped it out and started going for gold.
- A woman flossing her teeth on the subway in Toronto. I understand she may have been in a rush to leave the house, but couldn’t the flossing wait, at least until she got to the bathroom at work? I really don’t need to see chunks of food on a string emerging from someone’s mouth at 8am.
- Woman clipping her nails on a bus in Toronto. Either do it at home or go to a salon, but public transport is out of bounds. Any woman with even the slightest bit of class wouldn’t be caught dead doing that in public.
- A guy putting in contact lenses on a packed, rush hour commuter train in Tokyo. Maybe this is a personal one, but contact lenses gross me out. It’s the whole touching-the-eyeball thing – gives me the heeby jeebies. Plus, I kept picturing the train coming to a sudden halt and that guy gauging his own eye out.
- Various people passed out in pools of their own vomit at many subway stations in Japan. The Japanese love them some excessive drinking and it is very common to see people completely wasted, lying on the subway station floor with their face resting in a pile of last night’s dinner. I would see this (I kid you not) sometimes upwards of three times a week. And because Tokyo is a city of so many people and so little time, it’s also common practice to just step over that person and keep it moving.

 

There are other examples, but I’m sure I’ve made you queasy enough.

 

But isn’t that the beauty of the city? Embracing it all; the good, the bad and the ugly. And sometimes, the plain old disgusting.

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Homeless and Hostile

Saturday, November 24th, 2007

Homeless people are starting to piss me off.

Before I go any further, let me just say – I identify with the plight of the homeless. A few months ago, I was earning $10 an hour (ahh, the glamorous world of Fashion PR) working three days a week. Meanwhile my rent was $600, so by the time I’ve paid my phone bill and bought food – well, you do the math. Basically, I was one long distance phone call away from a cardboard box myself. So, I really do feel for the cause. I believe that it’s society’s problem and all that jazz. But I’m starting to resent the sense of entitlement some homeless people seem to have adopted.

 

Once – during my above-mentioned period of near homelessness – some guy approached me giving me his ‘I just need some change to help get into a hostel’ story. I took out my wallet and had about $2.37 on me. I emptied it all out and gave it to him. Every last cent. And you know what he did? Looked at me, sucked his teeth and stormed off. Cheeky bastard. I felt like asking for a refund.

 

Now I see the same homeless guys every day, standing in the same places, with their hand out. Hanging on the corner jingling a change cup does not make me want to part with my moolah. I need a little more bang for my homeless donation buck.

 

I work six days a week, for shitty money and if I’m going to part with any of that hard earned shitty money, I want some entertainment, a little conversation, maybe an explanation of your circumstances. What exactly am I donating money to – your fund for a hostel or your crack habit? Because the answer to that question would greatly influence my donating decision.

 

There’s one guy, in his late twenties who wheels a shopping cart of who-knows-what around. He’s pretty clean cut and not dressed too shabbily either. He has signs stuck to his cart saying; “Raising money for lobotomy to understand women” and “I’m a pirate. Give me money or walk the plank.”

 

Ummm, how about no?

 

Clearly he’s still eating well enough to have a sense of humor. As Chris Rock says; real homeless people are too hungry to be funny. And unless that lobotomy will stop him being a complete dick, I’d say it’s a waste of money anyway.

 

Canadian homeless folk are the lamest I’ve come across. In New York – the hobos work hard for your money. They’ll entertain you. Talent and/or paranoid delusions are always worth parting with a couple of bucks.

 

In London, there used to be a guy (someone tell me he’s still there, please!) who was in a wheelchair. He parked up outside one of the department stores and just blew into a tin whistle all day. He couldn’t play an actual tune, so it was just the one note, but you had to love this guy. If anyone could go for the sympathy vote, I’d say it’d be the legless war vet (he left the stumps exposed so you knew he wasn’t bullshitting). But no, he wanted to give the people of Oxford Street a little sumthin’ sumthin’ for their money. He may not have had legs, but he sure had some balls.

 

It’s a cruel world. You can’t get something for nothing. Even the lack of a permanent residence doesn’t count for much these days. So, I appeal to you, Homeless People of Canada (or, you know, people who know Homeless People of Canada and can relay the message, because I doubt they have computers and internet connections) – step your game up!

 

I’ll give my money to someone in need when I can. I’m just saying they could show a little more appreciation. Just because I have a roof over my head doesn’t mean I’m filthy rich. It’s not your God given right to have complete strangers give you money for doing nothing – so don’t act pissed when they don’t.

 

I see the hoards walk by homeless folk and not even bat an eyelid. If I were in that position, I think being ignored and treated like I don’t even exist would make me feel worse than not having a home. So I make sure to acknowledge, smile, exchange a word or two and when I do have change to spare, I happily give it.

 

But is it too much to ask for a rousing Broadway tap dance routine in return?

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