“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.