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Last night, a man approached me in Harvard Square to ask me if I lived in the area. When I said I did, he said, "Oh, thank God!" and proceeded to tell a story about being stranded in Cambridge for having lent his wife his car so that she could go to Springfield, and that he just got a phone call telling him that she had been in an accident. I was suspicious at Springfield, and to make matters worse, at precisely the moment he mentioned the accident, I noticed that he reeked of mouthwash. Not as though he was concerned with oral hygiene, but more like he had just quaffed a quart of it and it was oozing out of his pores.
"I'm sorry," I said as I started to walk away, "I can't help you."
This is about when he started giving me attitude. "You mean you can't be bothered to give me directions?"
I stopped dead and turned around. "IF you have a wife who's been in an accident in Springfield and you have no means of getting to the western part of the state, you don't need directions, you need a bus. Take the T to South Station and see what the nice people of Greyhound/Trailways can do for you."
"Was that so hard?"
I lost it at this point. "I know that you're not trying to guilt me for not falling for the oldest street con in the book, sir. You were not going to ask for directions. You were going to ask for money, and if I gave to everyone who approached me with 'my wife has been in an accident in the western part of the state' or 'my girlfriend is having a baby in a hospital on the Cape' stories, I wouldn't make rent."
He skulked away muttering, "Fucking asshole."
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i love how con artists get offended when their con doesn't fool you. like their con is predicated on you being a compassionate person so that when they can't scam you, you must be an asshole. i had a similar experience a couple of years ago, but i ended up giving the lady 20 bucks because her story was so ridiculous i couldn't stop myself from laughing. on my way to the metro a woman reeking of alcohol approached me and said in a very slurred dialect that i looked like a good christian boy...
her story was that she'd come to DC from baltimore with her church group to work in a soup kitchen or shelter or something (it kept changing), and she'd had a diabetic seizure and had to go to the hospital. then she told me that while she was in the hospital her pastor took the church group back to baltimore and now that group apparently had her children in it as well so they were at home alone. so after being discharged from the hospital and returning to the shelter to find her group had left gone, she went to the park police who told her that she could take the metro out to some station in maryland and tehn take a cab from their, but the cab would cost $80. not having the $80, the park police apparently advised her to come down to the national mall "where there are a lot of people" and panhandle to get the cash to get back home. seeing me, apparently the paramount image of a christian, she just knew she could count on me.
it was really quite the creative tale. the amount of detail and the way it just kept getting more and more over the top the longer i held out (i made her go on for about 15 minutes) was priceless. i'm supposed to believe that 1) her slurred speech and odd aroma are the product of a very recent diabetic seizure, 2) her church group would just leave her behind in a foreign city, 3) they'd drop her kids off at a house they obviously must know is empty, 4) the hospital would let her go just a couple of hours after having a diabetic seizure, 5) the only way to get to baltimore is a taxi, 6) the park police would advise her to panhandle, and 7) that i, a very opinionated atheist, am a good little christian. to me, that was worth at least a 10 spot, but only having a 20 i let her have it. she tried to push for heading to and ATM that she just happened to know was nearby for the full $80, but i wouldn't go in for that. the best part was that once she ahd the cash she gave me a hug, then hailed a cab and i heard her ask the driver to take her to the nearest liquor store.
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