Need Or Scam?

Many, many summers ago, Chuck and I were sitting in our car on a street in Boston. We were chatting about where to head next when a man came up to the car window. He had a very specific story about how he came to be in need of some money and came off as quite credible. He promised to pay us back. Chuck decided to give him twenty dollars along with his business card. The man thanked him and promised he would send us the money the next day. Of course we never were repaid. After that experience we wished two things: the first, that we had not given him the money and the second, that we had absolutely not given him a business card. That guy was so smooth, we came to have the feeling that he was a “professional” con man or panhandler.

Over the years, I have been approached on numerous occasions in multiple locations. Each time a person, or, in one instance, a couple, has had a story of misfortune, followed by a request for money. Sometimes they have wanted me to drive them somewhere. In every instance I have said no. Once, at JFK Airport in New York, I was approached twice in the parking lot by the same person, but a couple of hours apart. After the second occurrence I reported him to security.

A few months ago, a man came up to us as we were about to exit our car to go into a restaurant in Worcester. He had an elaborate tale to tell, which ended with him stating that he needed us to give him money. We declined. In that instance he persisted and began to look angry. He did eventually walk away from us, but we stayed in our vehicle and ended up changing our plans and driving away.

This week, Chuck and I were in Worcester, headed back to our car after leaving a different restaurant with a to go order. Another man came up to us, asking us to do him a favor. He told a convoluted story. But the upshot was, he said he needed ten more dollars to get the cab fare to go home. We declined. He walked away.

I like to think of myself as a kind person, even generous. But I cannot bring myself to trust the strangers who approach me wanting money. Nor can I bring myself to believe the people who want me to drive them somewhere, whereupon I will be reimbursed for my gasoline and my trouble.

The terrible feeling I have after these encounters is that if the stories the strangers tell me are true, I would like to help them. But I don’t believe them. And I hate the nagging concern that I could have or should have helped out a fellow human being.