This week, I had to use a half day to watch my kids, since our sitter couldn’t watch them. Turns out, my mother in law stopped by, so I was able to run some errands. I took her car to the dealer for the free service that was almost expired. I didn’t have time to eat, so I ran to a gas station and got a coffee and double decker oatmeal creme pie, because they had literally nothing other than sugar treats and chips. I walked back to the waiting room and saw the dealership had free coffee, bagels, even a snack station with yogurt and sausage gravy. Strike one.
I then sat down and set my coffee down while I put in my earbuds to drown out Good Morning America’s senseless ramblings. Or was it Rachel Ray? Who cares. Suddenly, I felt the hot coffee burning my ass raw. Ah, even better. Now my wet, boiling hot shorts stuck to me like glue.
I went to Sam’s Club next, soaked, and bought groceries. On the way out, a drug addict approached, full cigarette burning as she invaded my personal space. “Excuse me good sir, so you have a couple dollars.” I didn’t actually, not one. “No, sorry, I don’t have cash.”
“Oh sir, the Lord blesses those who help others. Can you buy me a meal or take me to a restaurant?” I had to be at work in under two hours, with a shower and unloading a trunk full of Sam’s groceries, plus I tend to not pick up druggies for joy rides. She was really strung out. “Don’t have time, sorry.” More Bible verses or variations thereof from her and she continued to blow smoke in my grill. My limited nice was all dried up. “Can you give me some food?” “No, this is for my kids and wife, I’m not able to help.” “But I could use something sir and it looks like the Lord has blessed you.” “He has blessed me because I work my ass off. If you’re hungry, don’t spend money on cigarettes.” “Oh this was given to me.” More smoke in my face.
I have a rule, if you’re homeless or portraying yourself as such, and also smoking or wearing nice brand name clothes, I’m not helping you. If you blow smoke in my face or invade my personal space, I’m not helping you and you’re getting the verbal wrath. “Someone gave you a full cigarette? I saw you walk across the street and it’s full, which means you just lit it. I know how cigarettes work.” She was unaffected by my logic. “Give me one of them beers.” “No. Go bother someone else.” More Bible verses as she shuffled away. The sad thing was, I really did have no cash and probably would have handed her food, but the rudeness was too much. It’d be like if I was helping my kid sell stuff for a school fundraiser door to door and spilled a mixed drink on everyone’s rug that opened the door. That’s why her mother will help her with those things. Because that’s what will happen.