The worst thing about con-artists is that they make you feel like you did something wrong

[janradder]

About two years ago while heading into the grocery store, I was a approached by a man who looked hot, tired, and panicked. In his hand was a red plastic gas can.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," he said, sounding out of breath. "But my wife just went into labor at Regents Hospital and my van ran out of gas over there on Lake Street."

He pointed to an old tan and brown minivan from the early nineties.

"It's our first baby and I can't believe this happened -- I-I've never run out of gas before -- and I don't have any money. I just need enough to get over to the hospital. Please, if you could just help me out, I'd really appreciate it."

I usually ignore these stories, but there was something about this man and his behavior that made me think he was telling the truth. He was a Black man who looked to be about my age and he had a good, honest smile. And I thought about how I would have felt had the situation been reversed. If it had been my first child, I thought, and I'd run out of gas, I would have looked and sounded just like him. So I gave him the twenty dollar bill I had in my pocket and after thanking me profusely, he rushed off in the direction of the gas station with his red, plastic gas can.

I watched him disappear between the cars in the parking lot and without his bright earnest face before me, I wondered if I'd been taken. Still, I thought, maybe I hadn't, and I'd really helped the guy out.

Today, as I got out the car at another grocery store with the boys in tow, there he was.

"Excuse me," he said, looking hot, tired, and panicked, but without a gas can. "My wife just went into labor at Regents Hospital and I was wondering if you could help me."

"No. I can't help you at all," I said.

I looked at that smiling face, which suddenly looked a little scared.

"Yeah, okay," he said, and rushed off looking for another mark.

I turned away, pissed off at myself both for letting him con me two years earlier and for not saying something when he'd approached me with the same con. "She's in labor and you ran out of gas again?" I told myself I should have said. But I hadn't. Instead, I walked through Aldi, feeling like an idiot for being taken by the guy. But his eyes -- his eyes and his smile, they looked so honest and earnest. And as I drove away, looking to see if he was in the parking lot so I could say something, I cursed him for using that honest face to take advantage of other people.

Comments

[rsheslin.livejournal.com]

When I was 20 and living off of Hollywood Blvd. in the early 90s, a girl knocked on my door and said that she was locked out of her apartment, the manager wasn't answering his door, and could she use my phone?

She was there maybe ten minutes. After she left, I discovered that, when I'd stepped into another room for a moment, she'd cleaned out my wallet.

I called the cops, filed a report, then went down to the boulevard to vent at my friends (a group of bikers I hung out with.) Their universal reaction was to tell me that I'd been stupid to have let her into my apartment.

I thought about that for a while, but I couldn't accept it. Then and there, I made a deliberate, conscious choice that I would far rather risk getting ripped off than to live a life of fear and suspicion. I've been much happier ever since.

[janradder.livejournal.com]

For me it's not so much that he got twenty bucks out of me, but that he took advantage of my trust. I've always been suspicious of people asking for any kind of financial assistance if I don't know them, but maybe that's because I've lived in cities for most of my life now. I have to say, I can't see myself giving anyone cash again, but I probably would help them out in some other way if they needed it.