This blog is being brought to you by personal experience. I know these kinds of blogs have tasted bad in the past but bear with me.
I've written previously that what I write is just a regurgitation of other more credible sources. This is no different, David Mitchell, all round funny guy and socio-politi-commentator, has written a column in The Observer about this before, but i can't find it any where on the Web so rather than link you to the real deal you're going to have to chow down on very primma donna ramblings that will be this blog.
Now, the theme, tone and imagery of this blog all meet at the nexus that is "hate". I am a hateful character, and while i have been trying to cut down on all the hate recently i am about to boil over like the raging furnace of hell where frankly the scourge of our story can rot.
In essence this began about 3:30 this afternoon (now being 4:45). A man knocked at the door. He looked very casually dressed and so i opened believing at first he was lost or a neighbour. In fact this is how he introduced himself. He was so-and-so, and suggested that i might have seen him dashing about the neighbourhood earlier today, in the naive belief that like most 19 year old's i spend all my day at the window people watching. He spoke about he was working in our community, which for a moment sounded like the charity work was going to benefit Drakes Drive. Anyway, after a confusing opening few lines it became clear he came here with rather criminal intentions, that was to steal some of my very limited money.
"Can i come in?", in the kindest possible way i said no, i have things to do and for some stupid reason i thought my killer line of rejection as that "my house is a mess", expecting "ooh no! i shant come in, wouldnt wont to tread and fall on an untidy'd shoe!"
"I understand, but do you have a flat surface i could just show you...[no]...i understand but surely you must have a table or something?". Perhaps out of pity i let the man in. I won't be making this mistake again. I was rather confident of my approach here, thinking like a Dragon from the Den i'll slay the poor fucker if his deal isnt quite up to par. Wrong again.
Well it all looks..well like a sham really. Poorly produced leaflets which i wasn't allowed to keep, because they dont produce leaflets to keep costs down. It wasnt until our final exchange did i actually see (when i asked) for their charity number.
After one leaflet i said very clearly that i don't what to sound rude or disinterested but im not going to be signing up to anything today, i don't have the money and that he should leave a leaflet or something i can show mother, although she is just as a tight as me. No dice. I sat through 4 more leaflets.
These poor people looked very happy with all the work being done by this charity. Now however i was become rather irate and uncomfortable with the conversation. It was about this point where the horrible reality set in that i had let a man i didn't know into my home and rub his dirty crotch all over my sofa. I wont talk to strangers mum no, but i'm gonna let them and take a pew!
"Right, now, again i don't want to sound rude because i like what you've shown me, but lets get down to business, what is it you want from me?" Out he produces a Direct Debit form. Just as i thought. Three times i said "no contracts" "no more signing up" "no". Three times he 'understood' and suggested that "£9 a month isn't much money, as a student you know this!" (I put the latter line in there so maybe a reader might be able to offer some kind of explanation as to why exactly, as a student, i should know it wasn't much money).
I then dished out what i believed to be the royal flush hand, our living conditions "Look, i'm not and as a family we aren't made of money, we live in an ex-council house as you can see, not very big and really, i can't afford it". His response "Don't tell me this, you've got to Xbox's i can see right there!". I was now fuming to pass judgement like that, how we got two of them is not his business, in fact i could have stole them! Looking back though it was a stupid hand to play, having said it i looked around the room to see as he said, two Xbox, 2 pairs of RayBans, a load of fancy books that arrived just today and our tickets from the British Grand Prix displayed gloriously like a medal of honour on our shelving unit!
Anyway, i reiterated the fact i wasn't going to be signing up by...standing up. This was my final hand. If it didn't work i felt i would just buckle and pay the man to leave. However, understanding now that i am a biggish man with a giant foot about ready kick him out the door, he stood and thanked me for my time and that maybe he'd pop back. "No thank you".
Now i understand the need for charity, but this kind of behaviour is unacceptable. Unfortunately i made the infantile mistake of letting him in. This kind of thing should not be allowed. I need to suggest who might succumb to giving money away they dont want to. It's charity but on a certain level it's almost criminal.
I'll leave you with the offering of pearls, my pearls of wisdom which i also said to the man. "If i could offer advice it would be this. I understand [somehow?] Direct Debit payments decrease administration costs, but what i want like many others is to just give some money. You said £8 would make that garden thing and why not just let people donate that money. Also you mentioned administration costs but you offer a monthly magazine that must surely carry a weighty price. Just get a coin collector and be done with it. You might make more money"