Giving Unless It Hurts

My charitable spirit is, charitably speaking, a complicated one. I have written not so long ago about devoting a Saturday morning to cleaning up a park, and took part in literally more service projects than I can remember while a Boy Scout. I've given blood and been prevailed upon to give money to bums on plenty of occasions. As many times as I've given, there have been lots of times when I declined to give. I feel remorseful about that, but sometimes feel that even more when I give without wanting to (as with all of those bums).

I write this moments after a near miss of generosity. A kid came to the door looking to sell things as part of a fundraiser for a trip to Universal Studios. As a boy, I couldn't stand it when I had to do the very same thing. I was then much more socially awkward, but going door to door is still something I don't think I could bear. Part of the reason it was hard then and would still be tough now is that you have to try to sell things to people like present-day me. In truth, I was mildly intrigued by the $10 set of dominoes, but figured no good could come from a set the kid was selling. It had to be a sub-standard one.

Looking at me, the kid had to have been wishing he could just walk away. I could see he had to be nervous. I could barely follow a word he was saying, and not because of low volume or an incomprehensible accent, but because he was speaking faster than the narrator who reads the conditions of a contest in a tv commercial. He was making his pitch like a veteran auctioneer. As I said, I chalked it up to nerves, but maybe his whole strategy was to make me commit to buying something because I was bewildered and confused.

I wouldn't have answered the door at all except that I was aware the census taker had recently come by when no one was home, so I figured this was him again. I should have realized he was too young to be the census taker- I have never been especially good at guessing ages. He was off to the races the second I said hello, and it was hell trying get out of the encounter. I was just making coffee to get myself in gear after a late, energy-intensive night of fun times the previous day. Every time I told him "No thanks, sorry", I was croaking it painfully.

Finally, he conceded defeat and wished me well (possibly insincerely) while gathering the many products he had whipped out during his frenzied, lightning quick presentation. I recognize that this story may make me look kind of bad, if only because when most people turn down solicitors like that, they keep it to themselves and claim they always give. I felt a little bad, but resolved that I would find a better way to be charitable at the time and place of my choosing. I'm no Grinch- the spirit of giving just doesn't come so easily when I feel like hell and get ambushed.