We see people panhandling for loose change all the time in our cities. It’s commonplace. We have come to adopt certain attitudes towards panhandlers and developed our own patterns of giving (or not).
We make assumptions about those who would ask us for a handout, and we have prejudices about the different approaches people take when asking for money. However we respond, we walk away and the next person on the sidewalk is hit for a donation.
Generally, those who ask, ask unashamedly, without reservation, boldly, maybe even arrogantly. Some have learned to hit the right buttons and tell one (maybe of several) stories that have brought them success in the past. It looks so easy, like anyone could do it.
That’s what it appears to be right now, but it wasn’t always like this.
What about the first times?
What would it be like to have no other choice but to ask others for help? When you have exhausted all of your options? You ask people for money: not your family or friends (that ended long ago), but complete strangers (who generally are opposed to what you are doing).
All of your resources are gone and you have hit the wall. You have no other options, so you do what you have to do to survive. Pride is long gone and the memory tapes of ‘loser’,’ useless piece of ____ ‘, useless bum’ – that were ingrained into your thinking from childhood come to the resurface, are reinforced and become your reality.
The first few times it would be hard – maybe the first few thousand – but it becomes a part of who you are. Blame, shame and desperation have become your daily portion.
There’s no way out. It’s your life now, and you get used to it. You get better at it. You harden yourself to the shame, and do your ‘work’. You know where to go, what to avoid, work the angles, develop the stories, and push yourself farther and farther away from who you once were.
Panhandling, it’s pretty simple. Easy. Straightforward. Right?
“Hey mister, any spare change?”