My roommate, Jack, and I stopped at the local Wendy’s recently to pick up a snack before heading home. A man sitting at the table just inside the door greeted us as we entered, but after being preyed upon countless times during my formative years here in NYC, I’ve trained myself to ignore anyone who might possibly try to pry what little money I have out of my grubby little Ohio hands. Jack, on the other hand, despite having lived here almost his entire life, somehow missed out on those teachings and shockingly turned to see what the man wanted. FOOL!!
Immediately noting the man’s homeless appearance, Jack tried to escape what was to come by innocently saying, “Let me just get my food.” But the guy had obviously been around the block once or twice and said, “Oh, god bless you, sir. Thank you, sir.” How could Jack resist a guilt trip like that?
By going out the back door–that’s how. When we spotted the alternative exit, it was like you could actually see the weight lifted off of Jack’s shoulders. He would simply grab his food, slip out the other door, and feel like he was off the hook just by virtue of inconvenience. Surely no one–even god–would expect him to walk all the way to the front of the restaurant just to hand over his money.
But as luck would have it, the guy apparently watched us work our way through the ten-minute line and then met us at the ketchup stand, where Jack was busy filling little paper cups with the manifestation of all our sins. “Thank you, sir,” he repeated. “God bless you, sir.” So of course Jack had to give him a dollar.
And wouldn’t you know it, when he got home and unpacked his nuggets, nestled at the bottom was one shaped like a heart.
