In the end, a life is made up of more than a million choices, large and small, that we make according to a witch’s brew of factors. There is timing, and how we are feeling at the moment, and there are random factors, our emotions, past experiences and needs, and, just maybe, some ethical analysis involving altruism, the Golden Rule, a careful balancing of outcomes, and solid principles of right and wrong. We hope to make good choices, and yet even a good one can have disastrous effects, leaving us illogically hesitant to make the same choice the next time. We hope, if we strive to be ethical and learn from our mistakes while not learning the wrong lessons—cowardice, fecklessness, self-obsession, fear of responsibility and risk, procrastination—from our failures, to reach the finish line having made existence better for more of our fellow human beings than we made miserable, and having been a net benefit to civilization while we were part of it.
Yet there really are a million or more such choices, many of them present themselves without any warning, and the results of the choice are often unknown. The only one keeping score is you, most of the time. I was presented with such a choice tonight, and I fear that I chose badly.I was doubly late—late running an errand for my wife, who is ill; late for an appearance at my sister’s house, as she had invited me for dinner. I was running out of the local 7-11 with the items for my wife, and walked toward a stranger in the parking lot, who was about to enter the store. Such encounters occur every day in my life, and are usually wordless and expressionless, but our eyes met, and I said, smiling, “Hi!”
I passed him, and rushed to the car. As I was opening the car door, I was startled by a touch on my shoulder. The man—maybe 35, shorter than me, stocky, in a sweatshirt—was behind me. “I need help,” he said.
I quickly got into my car. “I’m sorry; I’m in a rush,” I said. “I’m sure someone in the store can help you.” Then I drove out of the parking lot.
I second-guessed my actions almost immediately. Maybe he was stranded. Maybe he needed someone to take his child to the hospital. He didn’t seem agitated or desperate, but how did I know what kind of help he needed? I tried to think about why I had brushed him off.
Yes, I really was rushed, but that wasn’t all of it. Did I assume that he was going to ask me for money? I think that was part of it, since most times this sort of thing has happened, that’s exactly why I was approached. I decided that he had approached me because I had been friendly—but why? Was it because he thought I was likely to be a nice guy who would help him, or because I seemed like an easy mark? Was I afraid of this individual? I don’t think I was, but I considered: would my response have been different if he had been younger or older, better dressed or more shabbily dressed, darker or lighter, or a woman? It might have been. Would I have had the same response to this individual if I hadn’t been running behind schedule? Maybe. But maybe not.
I wondered if the last time I helped someone who approached me outside a 7-11 had been the determining factor in this case. On that occasion, about four years ago, I had a hot pizza to bring home, and was leaving the store when a grizzled, red faced, long-haired man in a partial military uniform and a wheelchair asked if I would help him pick up a few things. He was obviously a Vietnam veteran, based on the various stickers, flags and other items decorating his chair. I agreed, and wheeled his chair into the store. It rapidly became clear that he was an alcoholic, and that I was helping him buy a lot of cheap wine. When I wheeled him to the cashier, he tried to talk me into buying his liquor for him, and I refused. Then after I guided his chair out of the store, he cursed me out, slid himself into the passenger seat of someone’s car, and drove away. Later, I worried about whether I should have been enabling a drunk, and whether I should have bought the poor man his wine.
Yes, I suppose that fiasco might have been in the back of my mind tonight. The thing is, I’ll never know if stopping to help the stranger this night would have been something I would have been proud of afterward, or another incident like the one with the Vietnam veteran…and that shouldn’t make a difference anyway. For I need to decide whether I’m going to be the kind of person who always helps that man, or woman, or kid, in the parking lot, and who does so knowing that a certain percentage of the time it will turn out to be a disaster, or whether I’m going to be the kind of person who uses non-ethical considerations, rationalizations and bad past experiences to justify turning them all down with stupid comments like, “I’m sure someone in the store can help you.”
A million moments and choices, and in the end, they add up to the kind of person you were, and whether you lived your principles, or just thought about them.
Ethics Alarms 
Well done, sir. I, too, have had to choose, sometimes wisely, sometimes not. Most recently, a man approached me while I was fueling my car in El Paso, Texas. I brushed him away like a pesky mosquito. Why? I do not know. Thinking back, I probably have a 50-50 track record regarding these encounters. Fear, I imagine, is part of the equation.
Recognizing that you passed a Moment like this means you can decide if you want to change your automatic reactions. Convenience vs altruism is a choice we all make daily, and not always to our own ideals. thanks for the reminder.
As you well know, Jack, I AM an easy mark. And although my financial situation is usually such that I can barely afford whatever I was buying for myself and/or my family, I feel badly when I say to such individuals that I can’t help them. I DO help when I can, but it’s rare. And yet, out of fear I often pre-evaluate situations so as to avoid such ethical decisions — not making eye contact, choosing to go to a different store, etc. On the other hand, my son has befriended a homeless man in downtown Rockville, and we help him regularly with food and clothing. It’s nice when it can be personal like that, but most of these “opportunities” are not long-term enough to make them personal.
But here’s a question — Should I, as a woman be even more cautious about encounters such as you described? I hesitate to even suggest such a sexist consideration. And yet, in the kind of encounter you described I would have felt a certain vulnerability merely BECAUSE I am a woman. And I HAVE been victimized in the past by being helpful. So, just imagine the mess in my head!
I consider it better for all concerned – including the person approaching – to donate to local food banks, soup kitchens and homeless shelters instead of giving money to panhandlers.
Not all panhandlers are scammers, certainly, but enough are to make one exceedingly wary – especially in that giving money directly to these individuals can essentially enable a substance abuse problem. Food banks, soup kitchens and homeless shelters give the needy the means to survive (without taking well-intentioned but misguided one-to-one donations off the table for others) and can sometimes connect the hard-pressed with social services that can provide more than a meal and a warm roof for a night.
A transparent and challenging post. Thank you.
A lot of people need help. But sometimes, you do have to have reactions like this and apply the phrase: “The squeaky wheel gets the oil.”
I think you are too hard on yourself. You say you “brushed him off”. I don’t see it that way. I see it that you simply had a higher bar set. If he truly needed “emergency help”, certainly he would have protested and re-engaged to sway you. Since he did not, one can only assume that he was content to seek help from someone more able and ready.
When I worked on Vermont Ave in DC, there was a homeless vet who always sat in the same place. I always gave him money. I always asked him to please buy food and not booze.
A contrary experience was once when I was in my car and a woman holding a baby asked me to roll down my window. She told me she needed money to feed her baby. In a fit of idiotic generosity, I have her $20. She (ACTUALLY) said, “I see all those 20s in your wallet and this is all you’ll give me?” If the light hadn’t changed I would have jumped out and taken back the original 20.
Is this ad hoc ethics or morality or kindness? I don’t know. But I make choices based on the individual situation as I see it at the time, even if I only have 30 seconds to make it.