Liz and I are running errands down
town. We see the young man standing anchored in the busy lunch-time crowd. He
is the perfect package of holiday cheer and guilt, wrapped in a pristine lime-green
polo shirt. His smile and bright eyes radiate the confidence in his world view and
his sense of purpose. Knowing what he
wants, we separate around him so he doesn’t know where to look... we are
unsuccessful.
“Ladies!” he says “You look like wonderful
caring people!”
“No!” I answer “I am an evil
mastermind.”
“Oh…” he says, pretty sure I am
joking but his heavy eastern European accented face betrays a little concern
that he is missing the sarcasm hidden in my English.
“What are you selling?” Liz asks,
straight to the point.
“I am not selling anything. I work
for the Amazing Crippled Children Association (I changed the name because… well
you’ll see). What would you say if I told you, you could solve their problems
without changing anything about your lifestyle?” Liz and I both laugh loudly.
“I have already solved all the
problems.” Liz says and I back her up –
“Yes, she is a genius. I am evil
and together we plan world domination.”
“Haha…” he says, though it is a
little forced, still wondering if his very perfect English is up to the
gauntlet we are throwing down. “Well, for just a dollar a day you can make a
huge difference in their lives.”
“How, how does our money help?
“What?” he says, the nerves
starting to show.
“Where. Does.The.Money.Go?”
“Ahhh I’m glad you asked! 80% goes
directly to the children! For someone to go into schools and talk about
disability! Also some children get wheel chairs! It’s more help because they
don’t get enough from the government!” At this Liz and I laugh so hard we are
almost crying and his confusion is complete and his perfect selling smile
disappears. He crinkles his brow and tries, “So do you want to help?”
“NO!” I say daring him to look me
in the eye. “Well actually, I am disabled and she” I say indicating Liz, “has
been dealing with health issues with her child for a long time…”
“And the government doesn’t help us
already!” Liz adds.
“What’s wrong with you!? His accusing
eye roams up and down my body. Clearly I am better off than the children he is
desperate to help.
“Well I’m walking today but
sometimes I can’t walk and must be carried everywhere like a true evil genius!”
“So can we give you money and then you give us
money?”
He is so confused all he can say is
“So… so…Can I sign you up?” he shows us his iPad.
“No!” we both say and turn to leave
throwing a pathetic apology over our shoulder. As we go, we realize what we
have just done and wonder when we became the people who not only say no to
charity but decide to torture the poor young man just doing his job. When did I
begin to think that the pre-ghost-visited Scrooge was the hero? But then, as I
continue to freak out about our confrontation, we realize we don’t want to pay
someone to go into schools to talk about disability. We can’t imagine anything
worse than a child who just wants to be normal, being wheeled into an
auditorium where their differences are discussed on a grand scale. And then I
realize Liz should be with me more because she helps me say what I actually
mean. So if you need anyone to help you deal with the steady stream of charity
donations seekers during the holiday season, apparently Liz and I are available
for hire. We get to the point so you can decide if the charity is actually
doing something useful. But we only come as a pair because if I come alone, I
will cave and all of your money will be donated before a single word is spoken.
Liz gives me super powers.
