Gullible's Travels
So, I got taken advantage of today. Stopping at the gas station, I fell for the story of a fellow there and gave him $21 dollars. Though there's the spoken promise of repayment, I knew as soon as I opened my wallet that the money was most likely gone. I may yet be surprised and receive the proverbial check in the mail, but I doubt it. And it doesn't really matter.
I've agonized over this situation, so I decided to write it out in hopes that by organizing it on "paper", it will leave my thoughts and give me some mental peace. My dilemma is that I knew his story wasn't true, but I still gave him money. What kind of person does that? It's certainly not the way to succeed in business. And it's not the way I usually handle people asking for money, whom I turn down. After living in Chicago four years, I'm no stranger to people hitting me up for money.
It's strange for me to be confused by my own behavior. Usually it's everyone else that acts confusingly. Here's the core of the issue: I gave him the money freely because he wanted it. That looks really stupid to write out, but I can't see how to explain it any other way. As I asked questions that gradually picked his story apart, he didn't even seem to realize or care. He was focused on something else. It wasn't that he was "out of it". It was more like he had no other artifices; if I made it through, there wasn't anything on the other side. I felt like I was deconstructing him right there at the gas pump.
So I gave him money. I don't have any illusions about it being "unintentional charity," or trying to clothe myself in a metaphysical idea of "doing good". I can't even embrace the idea that karma will do right by me. I might as well have thrown the money into the fire. I was struck by the realization that the entire time he spoke to me, I was in control. And that's ultimately why I felt sorry for him. Not because of the story, but because of the flimsy nature of the lies.
Why won't it leave my head? It's not because I lost the money, it's because I saw into and through him with the clarity of an X-ray. And he was hollow. Do bad acts force some part of "you" to shrink, leaving a void behind? That's what I saw today, and I think it will haunt me.
Also, some people expressed interest in the Liberty Hill memorial. It's currently undergoing significant expansion and renovation. Many parts are closed. In December, it will reopen as a National World War I museum. The site is still worth visiting, but if you don't like dust and "exhibit closed" signs, I'd advise a waiting period. Also, the website (http://www.libertymemorialmuseum.org/) indicates that since one of the galleries is shut, the other has no admission charge temporarily. The remaining gallery is worth visiting for the Pantheon de la Guerre, a reproduction of a portion of a mural in remembrance of the War.
It still costs to climb the tower, though.
I've agonized over this situation, so I decided to write it out in hopes that by organizing it on "paper", it will leave my thoughts and give me some mental peace. My dilemma is that I knew his story wasn't true, but I still gave him money. What kind of person does that? It's certainly not the way to succeed in business. And it's not the way I usually handle people asking for money, whom I turn down. After living in Chicago four years, I'm no stranger to people hitting me up for money.
It's strange for me to be confused by my own behavior. Usually it's everyone else that acts confusingly. Here's the core of the issue: I gave him the money freely because he wanted it. That looks really stupid to write out, but I can't see how to explain it any other way. As I asked questions that gradually picked his story apart, he didn't even seem to realize or care. He was focused on something else. It wasn't that he was "out of it". It was more like he had no other artifices; if I made it through, there wasn't anything on the other side. I felt like I was deconstructing him right there at the gas pump.
So I gave him money. I don't have any illusions about it being "unintentional charity," or trying to clothe myself in a metaphysical idea of "doing good". I can't even embrace the idea that karma will do right by me. I might as well have thrown the money into the fire. I was struck by the realization that the entire time he spoke to me, I was in control. And that's ultimately why I felt sorry for him. Not because of the story, but because of the flimsy nature of the lies.
Why won't it leave my head? It's not because I lost the money, it's because I saw into and through him with the clarity of an X-ray. And he was hollow. Do bad acts force some part of "you" to shrink, leaving a void behind? That's what I saw today, and I think it will haunt me.
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For those playing the home game, today's post was the 101st for my blog.
Also, some people expressed interest in the Liberty Hill memorial. It's currently undergoing significant expansion and renovation. Many parts are closed. In December, it will reopen as a National World War I museum. The site is still worth visiting, but if you don't like dust and "exhibit closed" signs, I'd advise a waiting period. Also, the website (http://www.libertymemorialmuseum.org/) indicates that since one of the galleries is shut, the other has no admission charge temporarily. The remaining gallery is worth visiting for the Pantheon de la Guerre, a reproduction of a portion of a mural in remembrance of the War.
It still costs to climb the tower, though.
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Is it significant that Blogger's spell-checking program doesn't recognize "blog" as a word? It recommended I change it to "bloc," so perhaps I should start saying it as though I have a French accent.
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