This is a quick story about an emotional encounter I had with a man, who was unfortunate enough to find himself homeless. I should also add I am only too well aware there are a lot of blaggers who claim to be homeless who are anything but, and do this as a career to top up their benefits; the freeloading bar stewards. However, this guy was a rare exception to the rule and I try to keep an open mind…
I was on my way to the local supermarket, late one evening.
It was a whimsical shopping trip, where I just fancied a nose around the aisles.
Sometimes it’s fun to look for piri piri mackerel, olives and special offers in the middle row.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I’m at a point in life where olives with added extras are exciting 🙂
There was a guy sitting on the floor outside it, who appeared to be homeless. I would say he was in his early thirties with a relatively jovial disposition, all things considered.
“You’re a pretty big guy aren’t you”, he said.
Ah, flattery! A surefire way to initiate a conversation.
“I’m holding it all in. When I breathe out, I get even bigger”, I exclaimed.
He laughed. I went into the supermarket.
On the way out, about 15 minutes later, he said:
“See you, mate. Have a good night”
“You still here?”, I enquired.
“I am… until I get £2.50”
“What do you need that for?”
I wasn’t judging him, I was just curious.
“I’ll be honest, it’s for strong cider; I need a drink”
“Hey! Nearly all of us drink for one reason or another”, I replied.
In his case, it was to help him get to sleep.
I appreciated his honesty. After all, he could have said he needed it for bus fare and then bought cider with it, not that it really mattered.
I know some people genuinely need money for transport, but if I had a pound for every imaginary bus journey I’ve been told about, I would be richer than Croesus
Some people have a real problem with homeless people that spend money on drink or drugs, but they often drink or smoke themselves, which makes them hypocrites to judge someone else when they are in a more fortunate situation.
I stopped and had a chat with him for maybe 20 minutes or so.
That day I wasn’t counting.
I am pretty good at reading between the lines, concluding as we chatted, that he had chosen to be off the grid to kick a drug habit.
He was trying to be better and in that moment, I had little doubt he was actually homeless.
I gladly gave him the £2.50.
Some people would say I’d helped him to drink alcohol, but I don’t see it that way and for those that do, remind yourselves of that next time you’re enjoying a glass of wine or tipple of choice with your evening meal.
Shortly afterwards, another man came up to him and gave him £2.
He then did something I wasn’t expecting.
He offered me the £2 back he’d just been given.
Of course I refused.
Maybe he knew I wouldn’t accept it anyway.
It didn’t matter.
He got up, shook my hand and thanked me.
In that moment, it turned into something unexpectedly emotional.
He said that is was nice to just have a chat.
“You must speak to a lot of people when you’re outside a shop?”, I enquired.
“Sure, they say hello or a few words, but most people don’t take the time to really talk. They all have busy lives”, he explained.
He clenched his fist and tapped the opposite side of his chest.
As he did this, I was sure I could see his eyes welling up.
I said I will stop and talk to him again if I see him.
We’d made a connection.
“Have a great night,” he shouted, slowly fading out of view as he ambled down the road towards the off license before finding somewhere in public view that he could sleep. In that moment, I hoped he felt a little better, but there was no way to know for sure.
I stood there for a few more seconds as I reflected on this encounter before heading across the car park with my shopping.
I turned the key in the ignition. It was time to go.
You could say I went in for olives and came out with perspective.
Lets play this one out with something very apt. Yep, it’s Mr. Wendal: “He gives me knowledge, I buy him some shoes”.