Thursday, June 24, 2010

When I was loading my car with groceries today, a panhandler asked me if I could help him out. "I'm only twenty cents short of the price of a Big Mac," he said.

I don't like to give strangers money; I don't want to support their habits for alcohol or drugs. I don't want to let anyone go hungry, though, so I fished through my bags and handed him a package of hot dogs.

"I don't want those!" he said. "I have no way of cooking them."

I pointed out that they're fully cooked. "They don't taste as good when they're cold, but they won't kill you."

He handed them back. "I'd rather have a Big Mac."

I told him I understood, and went on my way. I did understand. He didn't want food; he wanted money. If he had been hungry, he would have taken the hot dogs.


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