Do I look like money?

October 23, 2005 by MrRi¢h.

Here’s a good way to start off my own blog. Never thought I’d be saying that and maybe more on that another time. Today, about mid afternoon my lunch wasn’t that great (this is what we’re going to read about, food?) so my mom and I decided we’d get something quick with empty calories. The decision, McDonalds. Who has the most amount of fast food restaurants around here. I just figured on the day of the Heart Walk where the sponsor Subway couldn’t come through, we head to McDonalds. It wasn’t even for the most basic of fast food, cheese burgers. I just wanted those Best Buy bucks. Yeah, what a deal. A few bucks for a large fries just maybe to get $3 from that promotion.

The real point of this post is to share my, “I’m a mark” story. No surprise that this McD. (like so many was busy and had the usual slow service) isn’t that far from Newark. The shopping center where McD is has a good, “nice, suburb side” and almost at the end where the fast food giant planted yet another golden arch is the more city, almost ghetto side. Just envision when The Wizard Of Oz goes from black and white to color.

While mom and I are waiting in the middle of what could be a line to the register, a black gentleman approaches me. I know a lot of you don’t know me yet. This isn’t a racist thing. I’m a nice guy and its my way if I can help, I’ll try. It could be too just to avoid conflict. It isn’t until later where I reget my decisions and/or actions. Which wasn’t quite the case today.

There we are waiting and this guy with coke bottle glasses says to me hello. My mistake maybe was to say hi back. You never know in that instant how not saying hello can make matters worse. He continues with, “I have diabetes and I’m homeless.” I’m thinking he’s gonna ask me for money. Oddly enough, in a different McDonalds in a train station, I was asked by a homeless guy for pennies so he could buy a cheeseburger years ago. I give this guy a once over trying to decide (by some criteria to me) if he is indeed homeless. By his Giants jacket and what seemed like his cleaniness, I really didn’t think he was homeless. Maybe something not right about him? Very possible. Yet, still in my mind, the nice, caring part of me, the part that wants to help is already thinking, ‘alright, I can give the guy two bucks. We’re suppose to help those less fortunate then us.’ That also depends on the situation which can be broken down, in a way what I’m doing now. Before I can say anything, he tells me, “I’m not asking for money.” The next moment happened so fast, I just knew he wanted me to buy him food.

The whole time, my mom was to my right watching, monitoring closely. I knew she didn’t want me to do anthing for him. She knows my heart was in the right place as was my intention. For once, that I shouldn’t be taken off guard. Maybe she knew the situation could become dangerous. I didn’t sense that yet. Get this. Where I’m still considering buying the alleged homeless guy an awful cheeseburger, he tells while acting appreciative he wants a quarter pounder with cheese. Are you kidding me? I don’t even buy my own family those. My next reaction would be crucial. Thankfully I kept my emotion in check. I told him something like that was too much. Again, my mom is giving me signals that I don’t need to give him anything. The guy moved closer as we were approaching the register. Someone else was watching us too, one of the golden arches’ managers.

The homeless guy gave us more space as the manager was dealing with him. Not that it would do any good long term today in that hour. The guy walked away, acting like he was staying to enjoy his meal. By then we had ordered and for a few minutes I didn’t see the alleged homeless guy. My mom and I were talking. I don’t know about my mom, I know I felt really uncomfortable, turning my neck to keep an eye out. It seemed to take forever to get our empty calories meal. Once we had it, we walked out the door, not looking right at him. The alleged homeless guy may or may not have seen us. He turned around to walk into the dining area.

Once mom and I were in our car, I locked all the doors. Staying locked until we drove home where my neighborhood is more shades of gray then Wizard Of Oz color.

And for my troubles, I didn’t even get any Best Buy bucks.

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