Making Light(s) Work.


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.

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