Friday night, I took the tube home after drinks with some co-workers. It was kind of an ill-advised evening, because I was tired and I’d had five pints (I know full well – after numerous studied trials and experimentations over the course of many months – that my personal London-drinking limit should be three pints, as the brew here is stronger than our watered-down pish from home). At any rate, my American friend and I realized we’d surpassed giddy buzziness around the fourth drink, when a discussion as to how hillbillies talk on meth (it involved impressions)* led to ten minutes of giggle-fits and then eventually dissolved into fatigue.
So five pints in, I called it a night and was trudging from my tube stop towards the flat, when I passed a woman begging in front of my local Tesco. You can’t walk through London without encountering dozens of beggars, especially at the doors of grocery stores, and if you’re standing in front of a bar having drinks, you can reasonably expect to be hit up by three people selling “The Big Issue” and at least one perky young volunteer in a cancer charity tee-shirt, all scrapping for your change. Basically, you become inured to it after a while. You learn to keep a pocket full of ten- and twenty-pence pieces, which you’ll hand off to someone or rattle into a bucket with hardly a moment’s thought – that is, if they’re polite. Plenty of beggars have passed the “thanks and God bless” phase and headed straight into surly entitlement, and those are the people who piss you off.
So I passed this woman, who appeared to be in her forties and fairly toothless in a hard-knocks kind of way, and she called out for change as as I strolled by her. I kept walking, but then recalled that I’d failed to pay my public drinking tax of earlier in the evening, having already turned away two scruffy men proferring magazines. Seeing as she was outside Tesco, I doubled back, thinking I would pop in and pick her up a bottled water and a pre-made sandwich. This is a tactic I used to employ regularly at home, when I wasn’t accosted quite so regularly; while the mayor of my city discouraged begging and urged citizens to instead contribute money to homeless shelters (and he was a righteous mayor), I was never averse to spending a couple of bucks on food or water for someone sitting out in the heat.
I also admit that I am more susceptible to female beggars, or more inclined to stop for them, anyway – aside from the criminally-genius beggar in my neighborhood who carries a guitar and a cat on a leash (I have given this guy at least 20 quid, I swear, because that damn cat is so cute and sits on his shoulder while he plays, and he always catches me about an hour before closing when I’m at my most generous).
I dropped down and asked if I could buy her a sandwich, no big thing, figuring it would cost me two minutes and less than three pounds. Instead, she said she’d love a Subway, with chicken, pepperoni, and ham.
Subway was a good few minutes out of my way, and I was really itching to get home, but what was I going to do? Rescind the offer? Damn it, no, so I walked down to Subway, and ordered her a six-inch sandwich with her desired fillings, and convinced the server to give me a slather of mayonnaise in a soup cup, because I didn’t know what condiments my “friend” would want. Including a bottled water (honestly, you can’t hand someone a sandwich without a drink), it totaled nearly $10. Subway is expensive here, but I maintain that the quality of the sandwiches is far better than in the States.
I walked back down the road a few minutes later, and found her stationed where I’d left her. “Here you go, ” I said when I hunkered down. “As ordered, and I’ve brought you mayo and a knife, because I personally like mayo on a Subway but didn’t know your preference.”
“Yeah, mayo’s good, ” she replied. “But I yelled down the street at you to get some onions, guess you didn’t hear. Thanks, anyway.”
So that was that. Initially feeling a little dejected, I made off for home after this fifteen-minute diversion, and began to chuckle to myself. What did I expect? That she’d look me in the eyes and tell me I’d saved her from a hungry night on the cold, dark streets? She was begging, I stopped and asked if I could buy her some food, and she told me exactly what she wanted – a Subway, hardly an extravagance. The purchase of a sandwich does not a saint make, and it’s stupid to ask for something more, even recognition. I was actually a little disappointed in myself for feeling put out about it. The reward is knowing that I went ever so slightly out of my way to give another human being a meal, and that that person has a meal.
I’m hardly one to pay heed to Bible lessons, but I’ve always recalled the story from childhood about the Pharisees and false charity. There shouldn’t be degrees of charity, which achieve the same functional result, but it’s arguable that anonymous charity is the most “pure” of heart (and I realize that by even describing this small encounter, I’m veering away from the meaning of the act and towards seeking recognition of personal “goodness”).
I think it’s very human, though, to look for that metaphorical pat-on-the-head, whether you’ve given years of your life to working with the disenfranchised, joined the Peace Corp, made a donation to Planned Parenthood, or just bought someone a sandwich. And also, I think this is a good thing; while I may have a profound respect for someone who makes an anonymous, unheralded donation, it doesn’t mean that I don’t recognize the many contributions people make in their own names or in the names of loved ones. Charity is something to be celebrated, whatever the origination. So please feel free to share thoughts in the comments, or explain the charities that drive you personally.
*We’re both Southerners and were trying to figure out how to speed up our drawl in such a way that our Australian buddies couldn’t understand our speech patterns, leading to “hillbilly on meth.” Trust, it was hilarious at the time, inside our brains.
(Image from John Goto’s “Gilt City” series: more excellent images here.)
June 16, 2009 at 4:28 pm
oh no. see, my problem with street beggars is that I don’t feel any particular sorrow for them. I’ve given food to the ones who stand at the concrete islands by traffic lights, and I’ve given spare change to the ones outside my building. but if I had stopped to ask a beggar if they would like a sandwich and then been given a food order – I would not have complied. I would have replied, “take it or leave it”.
Two things I was taught (right or wrong):
– beggars can’t be choosers
– charity begins at home
June 17, 2009 at 12:48 am
Yeah, well, I guess I was in a giving mood. I have taken money back (twice) from beggars who hit me up, and when I gave them a buck or whatever, said, “that’s IT?”
June 16, 2009 at 5:34 pm
ooohhh-BangieB is going to get you for messin’ with Southerners.
I always give to older women and individuals who are physically disabled.
$10 for Subway? Dang!
June 16, 2009 at 9:37 pm
She is a Southerner, so she can make fun of us. And 10 bucks I assume is what, six quid? If you convert to US dollars everytime you pay for something in London, you’ll be sorely disappointed. When you’re paid in pounds it really isn’t much money if you think about it.
June 17, 2009 at 12:50 am
Ha, exactly. It was about £5.80. I still tend to do a mental 2/1 conversion in my head when I’m shopping, as it really cuts down on frivolous purchases, but I gave up doing so on food because it was making me crazy and if there’s one thing I’m willing to drop cash on, it’s a good meal.
June 17, 2009 at 12:52 am
Agreed, disabled people and older women arouse more sympathy in me.
And like expat said below, I’m from Texas and my mate is an Okie, so we were just amping up what comes natural to us anyway. ;)
June 17, 2009 at 4:29 pm
Indeed. I moved from New Hampshire to OK nine years ago, and it was…maybe five years before my grandpa-in-law stopped needing a translator to understand me. Cute old slow-talkers are the best.
June 16, 2009 at 7:10 pm
I used to do a lot of community service, but I’ve become very lazy so I just donate money to my local food bank, etc.
My sister bought food once for a homeless man that used to camp out at a busy traffic intersection near our house in the DC suburbs. She pulled up, offered him a loaf of bread and a subway sandwich. He took the subway sandwich but passed on the loaf of bread. Later, I heard rumors about how the same guy was driving around town in a Lexus.
June 16, 2009 at 10:29 pm
I am only swayed by the homeless that have a pet. I will totally go out of my way to get them a bite of food and/or money, obviously with the pet being the priority. The only time I will stop to help a motorist in distress is if I see their pet. Yep, I’m a cold hearted wench, expect for the fur babies.
TF, your description of the homeless guy with a cat on a leash makes me want to mail you $$ to pass along!
June 17, 2009 at 8:50 am
the ones will dogs always bother me, I feel SO BAD for the dog! how does the dog get fed? what happens to the dog when the weather is bad? is the dog riddled with parasites?
this is what I worry about, not the person only the mutt.
June 17, 2009 at 10:34 am
Oh yes, these situations make me fret endlessly for the welfare of the animal. I always assume the worst for the animal’s health. I really prefer to give food and stand there while the pet is fed FIRST. Concur, to hell with the human.
Most shelters and church feeding programs make no allowance for the pet, which makes me sad and quite miffed.
June 17, 2009 at 2:30 pm
One of the few times I almost broke down was when I passed a guy sitting in the subway station with a couple of kittens. It was gut-wrenching.
June 17, 2009 at 12:58 am
My favorite reply of all time is “Social change, brother!” A classic.
Seeing as how I was recently accosted in the Mission, I cannot even revisit this topic just yet.
June 17, 2009 at 8:50 am
booooo for getting accosted :(
June 17, 2009 at 12:58 am
ALSO WHERE IS MY BUTTER PAT?!
June 17, 2009 at 12:59 am
Note to self: Hey, jackass, you’re no longer a butter pat. Let go and let God. Sheesh.
June 17, 2009 at 1:04 am
i like the funny bums. this bum came up to me once talking about “i am going to run for mayor, can i count on your vote???” then we both cracked up. i gave him a $5.
June 17, 2009 at 8:51 am
I will give money to the guy with the “I Need A Beer” sign. because he’s honest and beer is refreshing. everyone else I automatically suspect of being lying grifters.
June 17, 2009 at 11:10 am
i only think that of hipsters
June 17, 2009 at 3:05 pm
and rightfully so.
June 17, 2009 at 2:34 pm
I’ve given money to various performers in the parks and some on the subway, but I’ve hardened myself to most street beggars because otherwise I would just not make it through a day in New York.
I have passed someone and then went back to give them money only one time, I think: a woman on the sidewalk with a sign about how she needed money after leaving her abusive husband. That got to me big time.
June 18, 2009 at 1:18 am
Yeah, I’ll drop change for buskers (like the cat-man I mentioned), but you get really hardened to beggars really fast because it is SO constant.
That lady’s sign would have gotten to me too. I probably would have tried to take her home for a shower and to wash her clothes.
June 17, 2009 at 2:57 pm
The most famous/visible homeless guy in montreal is the banana man, Hollywood. He holds up a banana like a gun and asks for your money. He’s beloved and is annually the winner of “best montreal weirdo” in the Mirror’s “Best of Montreal” issue.
when i worked at this magazine store there were these two kids that would sit outside, a girl and a guy (the guy had half his face tattooed). they’d usually sit in front of the neighbouring drug store, but sometimes the girl would read in front of the gas station and i’d talk to her about her sci-fi books; i would bring them coffees and give them change if i had it. then one day my brother found out that they weren’t actually homeless, they’d just figured out that they made more money by the hour sitting on the street than if they were working (i’m sure the face tat didn’t help the job prospects either). i thought that was interesting. i kept bringing them coffees though.
June 17, 2009 at 3:08 pm
aha! there were a bunch of reports from Houston (Feather, help me out here) about the “homeless”, some of which were actually making bank if they jingled their cups at the right intersections.
a city with 4+ million ppl, all of them in cars and all of them at major intersections around the city. the beggars can literally walk up and down rows and rows of cars and get money from them. one guy was followed back to his moderately priced APARTMENT after a hard day of looking pathetic while sweating and fleecing the townsfolk.
November 15, 2009 at 11:07 am
It’s nice to see my image in circulation, but would you mind putting in a link please to http://www.johngoto.org.uk/giltcity/FrameSet.htm
You might also be interested in the new version of the same motif
http://www.johngoto.org.uk/beggar_banker/index.htm
Cheers!
November 17, 2009 at 1:45 pm
No problem, John, it’s been updated! Thanks for allowing me to use your excellent artwork.