(no subject)
Petty cash.
So, apparently my goodwill is only worth about $5.00 right now. Wednesday night, in the middle of a severe thunderstorm, I stopped at a gas station to fill my tank before heading out to visit with my nephew in the hospital. While I was standing there pumping the gas, a young man approached me from a car parked at the gas pump opposite mine and asked me for money. He'd run out gas, he said. He had no money. He didn't know what to do. Could I give him enough money to get one gallon of gas? Could I please help him out?
I didn't say anything to him. I just shook my head. My first thought wasn't, 'Oh, poor guy. Here's a couple of bucks. Carry on.' My first thought was to check if I'd locked my car y/n. (Yes). This gas station has been held up more than once in the last year or so. I don't normally go there after dark to get gas any more. My next thought was to look behind this guy and then behind me to see if there was anyone else lurking behind one of the pumps who might rob me if I reached into my car to get some cash out for this guy. There's been a rise in that sort of crime in this area. Since what happened to me, I've become paranoid about crime. Not just cautious, but truly paranoid. (Nobody shady was hanging around.)
Instead of feeling sorry for this guy, my first reaction was to get mad. I thought, 'Who in this area drives around with no cash and no bank card? Not carrying cash I could understand, but seriously, no bank card? No credit card? Seriously? Who does that? Everybody has a bank card. Everyone. Why is this total stranger asking me for money? Do I look gullible? (Of course he was asking me because he was stranded there in the same place that I happened to be and I knew that, but I was still mad.)
So like I said, I just shook my head at this guy and kept pumping my own gas. He was just a kid really. He couldn't have been more than 22 or 23. There were two other people at the station pumping gas. He asked each one of them for money. They each refused. The kid was starting to look panicked. He probably had no earthly clue what a person is supposed to do if they run out of gas in the middle of suburbia and they don't have any money or anyone nearby to help them out.
All this time, I was feeling really mean and seriously disgusted with myself. I probably had fifty dollars in cash in my purse. I could help him. But I just kept pumping my gas and feeling angry that this poor young man had the nerve to be out of money and need my help.
The kid walked off few feet and pulled out his phone to call someone. I have no idea who he was talking to or what he was saying. I was kicking myself because I was being so mean. Honestly, I could spare the guy enough cash to fill his gas tank. Even it turned out that he was just a scammer, it wouldn't have harmed me in any way to give him some money.
There was a young woman in the car. She wouldn't make eye contact with anyone. I couldn't recall if the car had been parked at that pump when I arrived or if they pulled in after I did because I'd been so preoccupied thinking about my own problems when I pulled into the station. It occurred to me that those two kids might have been sitting there out of gas for quite a while, being turned down over and over again. Or, you know, they might have pulled in after me, riding on fumes. I had no way to know.
I looked over at this young man again. He was standing in the damned rain calling somebody on his phone to come and help him. I felt like a complete bitch. When had I become so petty? The last couple of years have turned me into someone that I don't think that I want to know. I do know that I don't want to be this suspicious, stone-hearted person. I mean, it's only money. Money doesn't mean a damned thing except when you don't have any, like for this kid at that moment. Right then for him, a little bit of money meant everything. It meant that he could escape from that stupid gas station and carry on with his life.
I got five dollars out of my purse and walked over and handed it to him. He thanked me profusely and rushed off to pump a measly gallon of gas in his car. I hope it was enough to at least get him to wherever his people were so that they could help him out more. I didn't say anything to him when I gave him the money. I wanted to say, 'Jesus, kid. Don't thank me. I could have given you a twenty.'
I've got to be better than this. No excuses.
This entry was originally posted at http://saraqael.dreamwidth.org/11226.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
So, apparently my goodwill is only worth about $5.00 right now. Wednesday night, in the middle of a severe thunderstorm, I stopped at a gas station to fill my tank before heading out to visit with my nephew in the hospital. While I was standing there pumping the gas, a young man approached me from a car parked at the gas pump opposite mine and asked me for money. He'd run out gas, he said. He had no money. He didn't know what to do. Could I give him enough money to get one gallon of gas? Could I please help him out?
I didn't say anything to him. I just shook my head. My first thought wasn't, 'Oh, poor guy. Here's a couple of bucks. Carry on.' My first thought was to check if I'd locked my car y/n. (Yes). This gas station has been held up more than once in the last year or so. I don't normally go there after dark to get gas any more. My next thought was to look behind this guy and then behind me to see if there was anyone else lurking behind one of the pumps who might rob me if I reached into my car to get some cash out for this guy. There's been a rise in that sort of crime in this area. Since what happened to me, I've become paranoid about crime. Not just cautious, but truly paranoid. (Nobody shady was hanging around.)
Instead of feeling sorry for this guy, my first reaction was to get mad. I thought, 'Who in this area drives around with no cash and no bank card? Not carrying cash I could understand, but seriously, no bank card? No credit card? Seriously? Who does that? Everybody has a bank card. Everyone. Why is this total stranger asking me for money? Do I look gullible? (Of course he was asking me because he was stranded there in the same place that I happened to be and I knew that, but I was still mad.)
So like I said, I just shook my head at this guy and kept pumping my own gas. He was just a kid really. He couldn't have been more than 22 or 23. There were two other people at the station pumping gas. He asked each one of them for money. They each refused. The kid was starting to look panicked. He probably had no earthly clue what a person is supposed to do if they run out of gas in the middle of suburbia and they don't have any money or anyone nearby to help them out.
All this time, I was feeling really mean and seriously disgusted with myself. I probably had fifty dollars in cash in my purse. I could help him. But I just kept pumping my gas and feeling angry that this poor young man had the nerve to be out of money and need my help.
The kid walked off few feet and pulled out his phone to call someone. I have no idea who he was talking to or what he was saying. I was kicking myself because I was being so mean. Honestly, I could spare the guy enough cash to fill his gas tank. Even it turned out that he was just a scammer, it wouldn't have harmed me in any way to give him some money.
There was a young woman in the car. She wouldn't make eye contact with anyone. I couldn't recall if the car had been parked at that pump when I arrived or if they pulled in after I did because I'd been so preoccupied thinking about my own problems when I pulled into the station. It occurred to me that those two kids might have been sitting there out of gas for quite a while, being turned down over and over again. Or, you know, they might have pulled in after me, riding on fumes. I had no way to know.
I looked over at this young man again. He was standing in the damned rain calling somebody on his phone to come and help him. I felt like a complete bitch. When had I become so petty? The last couple of years have turned me into someone that I don't think that I want to know. I do know that I don't want to be this suspicious, stone-hearted person. I mean, it's only money. Money doesn't mean a damned thing except when you don't have any, like for this kid at that moment. Right then for him, a little bit of money meant everything. It meant that he could escape from that stupid gas station and carry on with his life.
I got five dollars out of my purse and walked over and handed it to him. He thanked me profusely and rushed off to pump a measly gallon of gas in his car. I hope it was enough to at least get him to wherever his people were so that they could help him out more. I didn't say anything to him when I gave him the money. I wanted to say, 'Jesus, kid. Don't thank me. I could have given you a twenty.'
I've got to be better than this. No excuses.
This entry was originally posted at http://saraqael.dreamwidth.org/11226.html. Please comment there using OpenID.