Yesterday, I had
one of my classic awkward moments; the sort of thing that could only ever
happen to me.
I was walking
through town when I spotted a guy standing by a crossroad near a set of traffic
lights. As our eyes met, he gave me a little wave as if he knew me; I didn’t recognize
him, but waved back out of politeness.
No sooner had he
got my attention than I noticed clipboard in his hand and realised my mistake:
he was a charity worker, looking to sign people up.
It’s worth
clarifying that I have absolutely nothing against giving money to charity; I
just don’t earn enough to commit to a monthly payment.
“Could you spare
a couple of minutes, mate?”.
“I’m afraid not", I replied.
"I’m in a bit of a rush."
This was the truth.
“Go on”, he
pressed. “Just a minute.”
“I really can’t.
I’m sorry.”
I kept walking, but
to no avail.
“Just a couple of
seconds, then. Surely you can spare that?”
“I’m sorry, but I
really can’t stop.”
“Fair enough”, he
said, in a tone entirely at odds with his statement. “Have a nice day."
“You too.”
(He didn’t mean
it.)
By now I’d
reached the traffic lights. I pressed the button and waited for them to
change so I could cross. But would they? Would they, bollocks.
A couple of
minutes passed. I could feel the chugger’s eyes boring into my back throughout;
hating me for my obvious contradiction.
I felt like the
worst kind of scum. I can assure you: this isn’t a first.