Beg to DK. BEG!

Driving a cab, you are obvious prey.  These beggars know that you have money in your hand and they will make a concerted effort to try and coerce you to give them some of it.  It’s to the point where even though a piece of me feels bad, another piece knows that this can also be for show.  Hard to tell who is faking the funk these days versus the authentic ones.

The typical beggars aren’t too bad, I’ll just roll up my window and act hella oblivious.  The squeegee men though are a bit more aggressive, you gotta wave them off real quick or they’ll start working right away.  A few months ago I was driving down Nostrand Avenue and at a red light when suddenly I see a dude walk up to my car.  Then he starts wiping down my window and I tell him to stop, but he ain’t listening.  You’re in no-mans land now and you’re gonna feel like an ass if you don’t give them something…so begrugedly  I gave him a dollar.  But this one takes the cake:

Ending my shift, I’m at a Mobil station near my house and about to fill up my tank for the night.  I typically use my debit card to purchase gas, but for whatever reason it was telling me to see the attendant.  The attendant wasn’t there and I see some dude walking up with a bag (presumably on lunch break) so I’m thinking maybe it’s him?  Nope not at all.

Him: Are you Muslim?
Me: Um…nah why?
Him: You African?
Me: No.
Him: *shakes hand* how are you brother?
Me: Well…I’m good, do you work here or no?
Him: No, but is that your car right there (points to my cab)
Me: Yeah it is.
Him: I need a ride to Jersey…I need to get there because I am having surgery tomorrow
Me: Nah that’s not happening at all.
DK’s Brain: Are you outta your frickin mind bruh?  
Him: I only have sixty-three dollars.
(honestly that’s what I THINK he said but lord knows, no way I was taking any random fuck anywhere anyway…much less to Jersey and not for $63)
Him: I’m getting surgery on my pancreas tomorrow please brother can you help me?  I don’t know where I am and I need to get to Jersey.
Me: Umm.
DK’s Brain: Then how on Earth did you find this gas station and then actually find something to drink (presumably).  Plus, if you got surgery tomorrow, I wouldn’t be walking around like an imbecile.
Him: I’m from Nigeria.
DK’s Brain: No you ain’t “bruddah” you got the ill Indian accent AND that’s a cool story bro.
Him: Please brother I need about $8 to get to Jersey help me please, please. (sad puffy face)
(I am feeling bad at this point and he’s being uber-aggressive, pissing me the fuck off)

I pull out what I presume is a $1 bill and I’m about to hand it to him, but it actually is a $5 and in my head I go “noooo way am I giving this dude that much money”.  Now mind you, it’s one thing to beg for money but then to target a specific person and them try to use some type of race card thinking it’ll automatically give you pity…nothing agitates me more.  I don’t know you, B.  Plus, your whole “pancreas surgery” thing sounds like a bunch of BS.  How on earth are you standing, much less walking around?  I pull back and he looks upset and I literally tell him “nah that’s too much”.  So I give him a $1.  He reluctantly takes it and goes “please, brotha please help?”  I tell him that this is all I will do and best of luck to you.  He says nothing and walks off somewhere.  Who knows?  Literally just disappeared from my view.

Welcome to…the Twilight Zone.  And so on.


1 Response to “Beg to DK. BEG!”

  1. September 18, 2012 at 2:35 am

    LMFAO I nearly keeled over. But you better be careful with these dudes.

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