This morning a guy I barely knew showed up at my door and asked for $400.00 dollars. I'm a pretty nice guy so I didn't tell him to go to hell right away. He said something about he was from Panama and could be trusted because in his culture they believe in respect. (I wonder if it could be considered respectful to ask a stranger for $400.00 dollars.)
So I replied, "Let me tell you about my culture (Southern culture). We believe in you 'scratch my back and I'll scratch your back'. So let me ask you a question. Have you scratched my back? Then get the hell away from here then!"
I love giving it to these people. They are like a virus. No matter how hard you try you cannot escape them. I'm not talking about the street people either. These seem to be normal people at least on the outside.
I consider myself a friendly, easy-going person, but never mistake my kindness for weakness or else be ready for a surprise. At least that's the policy I have to adopt in this city. It's so hard to find normal people here.
I don't mind telling these people to go to hell, but afterwards I feel drained from listening to their pity stories. Maybe I should tell them to go to hell and say I don't want to hear it or maybe I should work on being an observer to their pity opposed to getting emotional with them.
cheers
Paul
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