-Panhandler Peddlers-

For the first time in a long time, a panhandler got testy with me. I was walking down East Carson street in Pittsburgh, taking the long route to my car because the weather was nice and it was unusually quiet, even for Monday at one A.M.

There was no one else around when I encountered the man walking in the opposite direction with the translucent bags looped around his fists. He's African-American with salt-and-pepper hair, and he starts a spiel I'm used to hearing. "Hey, c'mere...I want to talk to you a minute."

Before I continue I should make it clear that I am a panhandler magnet, no matter where I am. It does not seem to matter what my apparel is on any given day, or what I'm carrying. Most likely this is caused by my non-threatening demeanor, and my willingness to observe people around me - perhaps a predilection for it.

So I've heard that opening salvo before. The intent is to get me to stop walking, and our panhandler thinks this will work because no request for money has been made, and the tone is (somewhat) polite. It's step one, but I never stop.

Step two is a violation of personal space, along with a bit of rambling but rehearsed dialogue not unlike the type certain telemarketers use to keep you on the phone. You're not meant to get a word in edgewise, indeed, if you do seize a pause and speak you will not be heard. The monologue you will hear is often a variation of "Listen, man, I've got a little problem, you see..." It's important to note that the tone is outwardly polite, actually more polite than the initial greeting. But conversational vandalism is already being committed, because there is the too-close I wouldn't-want-this-to-go-any-further sham. A form of intimidation, really.

After you've rejected the panhandler's entreaty, you begin to move away. How you reject the entreaty is up to you. I prefer to return eye-contact, and with a serious face and voice respond "I'm afraid I can't help you." Which brings us to step three.

Often step three is a Panhandler acknowledging your right not to give. They may not like it, and what the panhandler thinks or says out of earshot is immaterial. What matters is that a positive panhandler reacts the same way a cheery telemarketer reacts to a lost sale. "Thank you very much [for your time]." or "Have a nice day." Some adopt a religious response: "God bless you."

I hear these three responses most often, especially when there are other people around. This time we were alone, and something else happened. "Hey, c'mere...I want to talk to you a minute" was actually kind of nonsensical, since he wasn't stationary on the sidewalk, but moving toward me. He moved into step two as I passed him, and I was careful not to close off my body as I did so, but turned it toward his, even walking backwards for a few steps. Halfway through step two he broke off in irritation. He'd sped it up slightly so he could get the "one dollar" out. I honestly think those two words are the only ones that had any meaning to him, and the rest of his speech is a grayed out tax form.

Speaking my standard response, I continued to move. As the distance between us grew, I walked backwards again, lower arms spread as I absorbed some fresh anger. "C'mon, don't be a faggot." was the first insult, and finally the bizare "You think 'cause you're wearing a black shirt [racist remark, racist remark, racist remark, etc.]"

Don't think I'm editing the last part for content. I just don't want to be inaccurate, and I forget exactly what was said after that. It didn't help that he half-turned away as he said most of this, glancing over his shoulder occasionally, trying to punish me with a baleful gaze, or something. He was going more instinctual than usual, because this was the most gutteral thing I'd heard him say yet - a verbal howl.

A few steps more and it was over. I kept the same pace, though I was slightly more alert with my surroundings. When I turned a corner, I found myself suddenly furious - not because he'd frightened me, but because he'd ruined my image of the polite panhandler I encountered more often than not. What if they all feel the same way, I thought, but just don't air their racist rage when other potential customers around? What if telemarketers are the same way?

And what happens if all our telemarketers hit the streets to beg?