“Bus Fare”
I’ve just taken my laundry out of the car when a panicked-looking woman comes up to me. “I’m real sorry, sir, but my daughter’s just been in a car accident, she’s in Oakland General Hospital and I need bus fare to visit her, could you spare five dollars?”
There is no Oakland General Hospital. Oakland is served by Highland General Hospital. It’s 9:00 at night and I don’t know this, not without looking it up. When I lived in the East Bay, I went to the Tang Center on the Berkeley campus. “Five dollars?” It’s the Christmas season. Even if she’s lying, I can afford five dollars. She needs it more than I do. I reach for my wallet.
“Oh, thank you, sir, you know ten dollars would help even more.”
The gears in my head turn, clicking into place, and I drop my wallet back into my pocket. Kindness is an important virtue, but I don’t appreciate being jerked around for a sucker. She watches me expectantly as I stand there, my hand inside my jacket. “Tell you what… no. But…”
“Please, even a few dollars…”
I cough. “If you can wait five minutes, I’ll take my laundry back home, come back, and drive you there myself.”
She takes a step back. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask for that…”
“You didn’t. I’m offering.”
“No, I should really take the bus…”
“I’ll get you there faster.”
“No, sir, it’s OK, just a couple dollars…”
I shake my head and give her a few singles before I head into the laundromat. Sometimes it’s OK to play the sucker. She needs it more than I do.
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