Dogged determination
On my way to my parent's place tonight for my weekly stay-over, a young man with a clipboard approached me at the MRT. It was late, and I was striding along, my ear's plugged into my ipod, hoping I'd get dinner with my parents before 8.30 pm. I wasn't really looking forward to being assaulted with the newest insurance package so I politely acknowledged him, but shook my head and pointed at my ear phones when he spoke to me. But he kept up behind me, and if there's anything I hate, it's ignoring people when they are trying to talk to you. So I reluctantly stopped.
When I did, he leaned in, introduced himself and asked for my name, all in that slightly over-practiced way that said he'd been doing this for a while but was trying to sound earnest and interested. The marketing enthusiast in me started ticking the checkboxes on his presentation, which was actually pretty good. He did seem just a tad desperate though. Still, I listened patiently and at the back of my mind I figured I'd give him a token donation for whatever cause he was pushing and be on my way. And I thought, I should also ask him to have a drink of water, his voice sounds really hoarse.
The printed material he was showing me had to do with some cancer charity, which I begrudgingly pricked up my ears for, because my MIL is a cancer survivor. He threw some figures at me, which made me glaze over a bit, but then mentioned that some cancer patients die without ever receiving treatment because they can't afford it. That was really shocking to me. I've always taken for granted that cancer treatment was available to everyone.
He talked a bit more, but I was really only latching on to bits of his spiel, and imagining the lives of people who, on getting the news that they had cancer, looked at their bank accounts and simply gave up any hope of getting better or prolonging their lives. It is bad enough that anybody has to be told that they may not live out their full lifetime, but to be told that and to be unable to afford the treatment that may give you a fighting chance of survival or a few more precious months or years of time with your family... that's just a gross injustice. I thought about how incredibly wealthy I was in so many ways, and decided I couldn't just decline politely and walk away from this.
So I signed up to donate a small amount on a monthly basis. Of course I did my due diligence, asked all the proper questions to make sure he wasn't a scammer or anything like that. As I finished up the paperwork, standing there in the MRT station, I asked him out of curiosity, "So how's the take-up on this? How many people have signed up to donate?"
And he gave me a grin, and told me that I was the first he'd had all day.
When I did, he leaned in, introduced himself and asked for my name, all in that slightly over-practiced way that said he'd been doing this for a while but was trying to sound earnest and interested. The marketing enthusiast in me started ticking the checkboxes on his presentation, which was actually pretty good. He did seem just a tad desperate though. Still, I listened patiently and at the back of my mind I figured I'd give him a token donation for whatever cause he was pushing and be on my way. And I thought, I should also ask him to have a drink of water, his voice sounds really hoarse.
The printed material he was showing me had to do with some cancer charity, which I begrudgingly pricked up my ears for, because my MIL is a cancer survivor. He threw some figures at me, which made me glaze over a bit, but then mentioned that some cancer patients die without ever receiving treatment because they can't afford it. That was really shocking to me. I've always taken for granted that cancer treatment was available to everyone.
He talked a bit more, but I was really only latching on to bits of his spiel, and imagining the lives of people who, on getting the news that they had cancer, looked at their bank accounts and simply gave up any hope of getting better or prolonging their lives. It is bad enough that anybody has to be told that they may not live out their full lifetime, but to be told that and to be unable to afford the treatment that may give you a fighting chance of survival or a few more precious months or years of time with your family... that's just a gross injustice. I thought about how incredibly wealthy I was in so many ways, and decided I couldn't just decline politely and walk away from this.
So I signed up to donate a small amount on a monthly basis. Of course I did my due diligence, asked all the proper questions to make sure he wasn't a scammer or anything like that. As I finished up the paperwork, standing there in the MRT station, I asked him out of curiosity, "So how's the take-up on this? How many people have signed up to donate?"
And he gave me a grin, and told me that I was the first he'd had all day.