Alms for the Poor

I wake up with a start as the sun sneaks through the slats of my blinds and makes contact with my partly opened eyelid. Turning over and covering my head with the pillow allows a few more minutes of solitude before I have to drag my carcass out of bed and into the bathroom. Once finished the morning ‘5 s’s , (shave, shower, sit, shine my shoes and sip some juice) I am ready for the upcoming day and its many opportunities. As I look around my 3 bedroom luxury condo and view the masterpieces hanging on the walls it makes me think back to the days when I came to this city broke and out of work. I wanted to find a job and make my fortune in life as do so many other immigrants to this great Country. And then after many years of struggling in dead end jobs I stumbled on the career that would fulfill my dreams and provide me with financial security for years into the future. I became a bum. That’s right a street beggar with a cup in hand and a look of despair on my face. Now I must admit I am very good at what I do albeit that was not the case when I embarked on this choice of occupations. No I started with holding motorists hostage to get a few cents for washing their windows and then graduated to stopping people coming out of stores and banks to solicit some change for a coffee. After just mediocre success using these methods one day I noticed an old women sitting on the sidewalk with a cane and a cat. She had dark glasses on that indicated that she was most likely blind and was wearing clothes that looked like they had been through 3 world wars and a manure pile to top it off. But the sound of coins and even bills dropping into her once empty old pan was never ending. That was it! I had discovered how to go to the next level. So that very day I went out to the Salvation Army and obtained some old clothes that had seen better days and took them to the edge of the river where I rubbed them in the dirty water and then covered them with dirt along the shore. After this I took them to my boarding house and hung them to dry , on the backyard clothesline. Next I went to the Humane society and brought home a small scruffy mixed breed dog that no one wanted and made him my partner in my new endeavour. An eye patch and several days of beard growth topped off my new work look and with some dirt and grime plastered on my face I took Benny, my new pooch, and headed off uptown into one of swankier areas of the city where I could garner a place on the sidewalk adjacent to some of the more upscale stores. Oh yes I did have a small hastily scribbled poster that read simply, “Can you help and old vet” that sat just beside a small cardboard box between me and Benny. That was the beginning of the best years of my life as I began to bring home in the neighbourhood of 4 to 5 thousand a week for a six day week. Of course this number fluctuates during the different seasons but I would guess I averaged over $250,000 a year over the last 10 years. There are problems of course but I have figured out ways to deal with them as time passes. For instance after I banked several thousands of dollars I decided I’d like to travel a bit but was worried about my spot on the sidewalk during my absence lest someone claim squatter’s rights while I was away. I simply hired an actor to play my part when I was romping around the world and the investment was well worth it. Now as I get into my limo and head to work I often wonder if the people that drop cash in my box understand that I am actually saving them money. You see when they pay their taxes the government uses a large portion of this revenue for welfare and food, clothing and shelter for the homeless etc etc. Because it’s the government there has to be a large bloated bureaucracy to mete out these dollars so only a fraction of the money actually gets to the intended recipients. When giving money to me the good folks are cutting out the middle man and getting 100% value for their hard earned dollars. Ah life’s a bowl of cherries.