I was standing on my bed this morning, I forget why, and happened to look out the window. Down on the corner (I'm on the 5th floor) was one of those guys who tries to hand paraphernalia to passersby. The man looked tired.
He was holding a stack of postcards and wearing a sign around his neck. It hung at his stomach, neon text stickers unevenly placed and flashing the latest deal. When there wasn't anyone around he tucked his arms in and shifted his weight from foot to foot, like a penguin waddling in place, biding time, being patient.
For ten minutes, I watched him. The man kept trying and trying and trying to pass out cards. Most people didn't acknowledge his existence, very few looked at him, less said, "No thanks." In ten minutes he only gave away two. Part of the reason I ended up watching him for so long is I was waiting for another person to take a card.
In a way, I felt like I was down there with him. Each rejection upset me (probably more than it did him) and I couldn't look away until we gave just one more out. That sounded cliche and sappy, but I really felt for the guy.
There are a lot of large and important battles that people go through. Fighting cancer comes to mind (a battle my mother lost), physical disabilities such as palsy, and a million other daily struggles. There are also battles of determination and stamina, like the one the guy on the corner faces every day.
I can't imagine standing there for eight hours, thousands of people passing by and still all alone, yet he's down there, straight-faced, handing out cards. Does it sound easy? It may, but I doubt it is. He isn't out there because he loves to do it, he's working for calories and dryness - food and shelter.
Will he ever do something else? Does he want to? Am I being elitist because I can't imagine myself doing this job every day? I don't know. But when I see things like this I'm damn sure appreciative of the amenities and opportunities I have.
Next time you pass someone handing out brochures, take one. I will.
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