Guest post — Barbara Mack


A Christian act

Barbara Mack posted this on Facebook on 07/21/21.  I have not asked for permission to repost, because she’s been inundated with messages and texts and probably would not find my request for a long time.
I may have inadvertently started a revolution in the convenience store today.
I stopped to grab a water, and on the way in I saw a homeless man I know sitting in the shade with his bike beside him. He was red-faced and shaky looking. I asked if he was ok, and he told me that he was just resting. This guy’s got the mind of a child, and I’m afraid he doesn’t know he needs to stay extra hydrated when it’s super hot outside.
There were a bunch of people in line in front of me and only one cashier, so I grabbed two waters and yelled to the cashier that I was taking one to the guy outside and I’d be right back (I’m a regular there).
When I came back in, the lady in front of me turned around, hands on hips, and told me that I was just enabling that ‘homeless person’ (said with a sneer) and that I shouldn’t be wasting my money on him.
It’s hot as hell in Florida right now. Mid nineties with humidity around 80%. It’s a good day for heat stroke, and I told her so. I said I’d rather give him a water than call an ambulance.
I was gonna shrug it off. Let it go. Chalk it up to ignorance and the heat making everybody cranky.
And then she told me I should be ashamed of myself. That someone should call the police on him, and that it should be illegal to beg for money. That people who give the homeless money just encourage them to stay homeless and that should be illegal, too.
Ashamed. I should be ashamed for giving some poor old guy a water – it cost a whole dollar, BTW – and I should get in trouble for making sure he didn’t stroke out in this heat.
I guess I look nice. Approachable. Like I wouldn’t rip your head off. I am nice, most of the time.
But not always.
And I lost my temper.
I told her to call a cop and report me for buying shit at a convenience store.
I told her that I wasn’t in the damn mood for crazy right now. That it’s a hundred fucking degrees outside, and I’m hot and tired and sick to death of stupid people. That if she had an ounce of compassion in her whole body, she’d buy him a cold drink, too. That maybe she should figure out why she needs to accost complete strangers. And how’s about after that, she back the fuck up outta my face and outta my business and turn back around and not say one more damn word to me.
I’m just about deaf in one ear. I try to modulate my voice. Unless I get angry.
It got pretty loud there at the end. There was dead silence in the store and then someone said loudly “For real!”
And the guy at the front of the line told the cashier to add a sandwich to his purchases for the guy outside.
The guy behind him bought an extra ice cream. The girl behind HIM got change for a twenty ’cause that guy could probably use some cash.’
Every single person in line got him something. Every one, except the now very embarrassed lady in front of me, who slunk out without saying another word.
When I got to the cashier, she didn’t charge me for either of the waters, because she was going to take him one anyway. And mine was free because of the entertainment.
When I went outside, he was eating his ice cream and drinking his water with a pile of stuff all around him, a big old grin on his face. He didn’t look shaky anymore.
And there, people, is the story of why I hate people. And why I love people. All in the same damned minute.
I sat in the car and drank my water and laughed with tears in my eyes, same as I’m doing now.

1 thought on “Guest post — Barbara Mack

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.