Truesday: Taken To Task

The first few sentences out of his mouth are something along the lines of “excuse me, hi, I don’t mean you any harm but I need some help. Can I talk to you for a second? I know it’s weird for a black man to be walking up to you like this-“ and that’s where he usually stops to judge his situation, to gauge your susceptibility, and formulate his next move.

He’s already tossed the race card out there, which is no big thing because hey, we’re all one color or another, right? But he wants to see how you react to it. If you stop, and start listening to him, like I did the first time we met, he’ll be very apologetic.

“Wow, sorry to bother such nice people, but thank you so much for stopping. People just don’t stop for black folks around here and that’s just a shame! I just got into town two days ago, I’m a Katrina evacuee and all, and I just got this job waiting tables, so I can get myself and my son out of the shelter, but they’re making me buy a pair of black slacks before I start working tonight! Again, thank you so much, seriously, for stopping. Most people won’t stop on the street around here for a black man! You seem like good people to me. So, all I need is to get five more dollars together to get those pants so I can get this job, and get back on my feet for my son.”

The first time we met was on Congress, about six months ago. I gave the dude five bucks for the pants, thinking I’d done what I could to better the world of an eight year-old and his well-meaning father. He seemed genuine, and his story appeared to be air tight. Who wouldn’t want to help a guy out who just landed in our city, especially since he’s trying to make a real go of it. Moving to a new city’s hard. Being displaced by a gargantuan natural phenomenon + horrible government assistance is hard. Being broke and a single parent is tougher labor than most can sweat out. He’s already applying for a job, even though he’s only been here a couple of days?! Someone needs to write a book about this guy’s struggle!

Con artistry is just that, an art form. Like oils, clay, or bullets, there are creative and effective ways to meet one’s ends. Most importantly though, it’s a skill. A life skill that some take too far.

And that’s not to say that I think we’re all con artists, because that’s not my point. My point is that we all ARE con artists, regardless of what I think.

When you entered your first job interview with no proven skills, but a whole speech about “dreams, intentions, and drive to prove something to the world”, you were trying to gain the confidence of a stranger for your own benefit (and potentially their detriment if they hire an unqualified liar), even though you had no merit to back up your claims. Same goes for first dates, apologizing your way out of traffic tickets, and intentionally trying to use expired coupons. They’re all confidence scams, just not on an equal level with the guy who convinces retirees that they need to pay to have their house painted for the fifth time this year, even though they live in a nursing home.

The nursing home predator’s way off our comfort grid.

But the guy wandering around downtown, claiming he needs new dress shoes before he shows up to his first day of work so he can get himself and his eight-year-old son out of the shelter... is that guy too far out there?

I didn’t think so. Before.

Since our first encounter, where I willingly relieved myself of a hard-earned finsky for dude’s new shoes/slacks/shirt/whatever, I’ve run into the same fellow two or three other times. Always the same pitch, delivery, hands-up and everything. Well practiced, this man is. And not just on the script.

Our last encounter was not so pleasant, as all such relationships typically end.

A friend of mine and I were walking over to Sholz’s Beer Garten for a SxSW party, evening time, wandering down 16th from Congress. Along comes dude, crossing the street toward us with his hands up, backpack-hat-pressed shirt. “Excuse me, excuse me. Hey, y’all I’m just on my way to my new waiting job and they’re making me get a new white shirt, excuse me y’all? HEY, EXCUSE ME Y’ALL!” I was in the middle of a conversation, the kind where you don’t usually bother noticing some stranger demanding your attention from twenty feet out, in the dark, but I looked over at him anyway and immediately recognized him. “Oh, it’s you.” And I went back to my conversation.

Apparently he didn’t appreciate my tone.

“What? Oh that’s what I thought. I knew it just by lookin’ at you. You don’t like black folk. Racist ass motherfucker.” And then he stormed back across sixteenth, but continued heading the same direction as us, yelling some choice epithets at me over his shoulder. I suppose the best thing would have been for me to let it go, seeing as how it’s all a con anyway, and he was just trying to draw me in with some sweet-ass white guilt, which is quite clever, really. My potential racism is obviously of no real concern to him. I mean, if I was indeed a racist, why would he choose to tell me that on an isolated, dark street where he’s outnumbered and probably has no health insurance? He knew I meant the guy no harm or ill will. However, if I were one to feel really bad about someone thinking I was racist, I might be tempted to appease them until they took it back. I would estimate that he would revoke his accusations for the prime sum of five bucks, if I were so inclined to purchase such pseudo redemption. In the con game, playing on people’s inner fears and desires is what it’s all about. He’s good, I’ll give him that.

But it backfired. I guess he forgot that we’d already met. Several times. And that I’d already been played, but had since then been willing to ignore his efforts to repeat the con, as obnoxious as it is. Why did he feel the need to take it to the next level like that? Off my comfort grid? Racism? Because I didn’t want to hear the same, tired-ass story for the fifth time and I had an infinite number of better things to do? Please.

So, even though I usually make it a personal policy not to fight with strangers at night on dark streets, I, without using my inside voice, told him quite plainly to go fuck himself. That caused my friend to immediately become nervous. I was, after all, appearing to start shit with a complete stranger for what appeared to be no good reason (honestly: the reasoning wasn’t that good). Admittedly, I was a tad inebriated (but the night had just begun!), so this escalation in negativity and declination of both our characters might have been avoided if it weren’t SxSW and I weren’t at the tail end of a weeklong bender, but whatever. The responsibility for civility certainly doesn’t rest solely on my shoulders. Dude needed to hear it, though he didn’t take to my choice of delivery. More words were exchanged between us across sixteenth as we headed toward Sholz, none of which need to be repeated here but suffice to say: he and I will not be having Christmas dinner together anytime soon. Luckily he kept walking as our exchange played out, obviously not interested in letting the disagreement go beyond words, so it was probably like watching two five year-olds having competing tantrums in public, waiting to see who would get tired and give up first.

But once we hit San Jacinto, while still yelling over his shoulder at me, dude had the audacity to walk up to some guy chaining his bike to a pole, where he immediately went into his usual dog and pony show about needing five bucks for a blanket to swaddle a baby that just fell out of his vagina or some other bullshit. Balls!

So I walked right up and just as he was delivering the line about being a Katrina evacuee, just in town, got a job but they’re making him buy something- I offered “don’t let him tell you about him needing shoes or some shit for his waiting job. This is his job.” And then I walked off. Dude with the bike just shrugged and kept trying to get things locked up.

My favorite con man wasn’t quite so gentle with his reaction. “Racist motherfucker! Mind your own business! Why you gotta fuck with my business?’

Ah yes. Business. Business, indeed.

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On a side note: Austin360 is doing another one of their internet polls (ends today) to pick Austin’s best (most popular) blogger. Sure, the list is lacking several key bloggers around these here parts, but I believe they mean well. Go check out all those on the list! (My girlfriend's now a fan of Tidbits)