a soliloquy

Today, after picking up Chipotle for my mom and me, I saw a homeless man walking on the sidewalk with a shopping cart as well as carrying what looked to be like a very heavy set of bags. His feet shuffled dejectedly, his posture slouched, and although I couldn’t see his face in the dark, the man seemed like the most depressed person I’d seen. 

When I saw him, something different than usual happened. There I was, sitting in a warm car with a delicious meal waiting to be eaten. And this man was merely twenty feet away from me, walking in the cold without a place to live or food to eat. So I thought, “What the hell,” and pulled into the nearest parking lot. 

I got out of my car and slowly approached the man, who hadn’t noticed me. His head was down and he kept on walking towards somewhere he was probably going to sleep for the night. 

“Excuse me, sir?” I asked tentatively. It was my first interaction with any homeless person before, and I wasn’t sure how people react to people talking to them. He gave a quiet grunt and shuffled on, as if I hadn’t seen anything.

I felt helpless but I took out my wallet and looked inside. I had two dollars. I took the bills out and walked up to him. He looked at me with suspicious, judgmental eyes. I couldn’t see much of his face; most of it was covered by his hood, but the eyes stayed with me. 

I didn’t know what to say, so I just held out the two dollar bills in front of me, offering them to him. He looked at them, then back at me, then back at the two dollars. He took them gingerly in his hands. 

And then he crumpled the bills up and spat on the ground. I was taken aback by this and didn’t know what to do. He looked up at me and said, with a deep and loud voice, “Look kid, I don’t need your fucking money.”  

I was speechless and took a step back. I stammered out an apology, and the homeless man scoffed. He continued, “Two fucking dollars. I bet you feel good about yourself now don’t you? Rich kid giving to a homeless.” And he spat again. Then he shuffled around me, scoffing again, and continued on his way. 

I stood there shocked. The reaction was one I had not expected. All my life I had thought charity was something that people appreciated. But the homeless man had proved that to be false. Instead, it was something they seemed to hate with a passion. 

I got in my car and sat there, watching the homeless man walk slowly along the sidewalk. I decided to see where he was going; yes, I was going to stalk a homeless. 

He ended up going into a nearby McDonald’s. I didn’t go inside because I didn’t want to confront him and frankly, I was a little rattled by the interaction I had with him. But I realized that my two dollars had fed him for the night. Two McChickens, maybe. A feast for a homeless man.

But I still didn’t feel right or “charitable”. The man’s reaction had confused me. And I realized that the man probably felt embarrassed. He was probably in his 40s or 50s, down on life and broke. And a random 17-year old comes up to him and feels pity for him, and gives him two dollars. He didn’t want my pity because he felt embarrassed. He hadn’t made it in the so-called land of opportunity. 

It made sense. And frankly, I felt terrible about it. Being charitable is one thing, but being pitiful is a whole different subject. Yes, I helped the man have a dinner that night. But he got angry at the fact that a teenager was helping him, a middle-aged man. 

At the end of the day, I got some insight into what really poor people go through. They may be having the toughest time of their life, but a good amount of them are headstrong and independent, even when they can’t help themselves. 

So I realized: help those who cannot help themselves. Sure, the man got mad at me. He felt embarrassed at the fact that I helped him. But he still got dinner that night. 

Helping others is a side effect of a good deed. The main reason you do a good deed is to help yourself.