Ha.
It happened on a day when I was walking down Flatbush Avenue
to pick up some Thai food. It was
a rare treat for a budget that was a held together by the kindness of friends
who hadn't quit their jobs to be stand up comedians and a delicate balance of
semi-fresh vegetables and ramen noodles at the local Key Food supermarket.
A kid came up to me and told me a story about how he just
got a job and couldn't afford to get back and forth to work until he got
paid. He was too proud to tell his
boss; he didn't want the boss to worry that he'd be unreliable.
I handed him my metro card with ten dollars on it,
apologized that it wasn't more, and smiled to myself. I was proud to finally be in a place to help someone else,
even if it meant my walking a little further than a sane person would normally
choose to walk. As he disappeared
into the crowd, I happily pictured his face and his leather baseball hat and
his...diamond earrings???
I was pissed.
Even fake, this guy had more bling in his ears than I
probably had in my bank account that day.
Why was I giving to him?!?
And then I got pissed at myself for the fact that I was getting so
angry, I wasn't going to even get to enjoy the good energy and karma from
feeling good about giving and helping someone in need.
I know, ridiculous, right?
And then it hit me, I’m not proud to admit that it was about
a month later: I was giving with the hope of getting something in return. Even that good feeling, the
appreciation, the gratitude, whatever it is, is an expectation. I was trying to connect because I
wanted, even needed, something from this person to feel connected.
Next time I’ll try to just give.
