Monday, February 22, 2010

Being a Good Samaritan

After work today, I went with one of my co-workers, to Smart&Final, a supermarket, to get a few supplies that I needed for my family. After we were done shopping, we started loading up the car with our supplies when a woman came up to me, “I’m so embarrassed to ask this,” she asked my co-worker, a forty-year-old man instead of me, a seventeen-year-old teenager, “but my ATM card isn’t working and I need to buy some food for my son. All I need is thirty dollars. Please can you lend me some money? I promise to pay it back.”

She was a husky, Hispanic woman with blonde hair. She wore a black dress and high-heeled shoes that matched, so she wasn’t poor obviously. “Please,” she repeated the word to my co-worker; she was almost in tears. It must’ve been very hard for her to ask a complete stranger for money.

“Sorry, I don’t have any money,” my co-worker lied. I knew he had money in his pocket inside a tiny plastic bag, but he didn’t want to give it to anybody. As soon as my co-worker said that he had no money, she began to walk away with one of the most depressed faces I’ve ever seen.

I thought of the money I had in my pocket. I had twenty dollars saved for a parking permit for school and six dollars in lunch money, which I didn’t even use. “I have money,” I called back to her.

“What?” She walked back in her high-heeled shoes, which slammed against the black asphalt of the parking lot.

“I have money,” I repeated as I searched through my pockets and brought the money out. I thought about all the consequences of giving her money and threw them out of my mind. I live just fine, I thought to myself, and she’s in need. She needs to feed her family.

“Thank you. God bless you, sir.” She tried to give me a handshake, but I didn’t accept, instead I hugged her.

“I understand that the economy is bad and all—”

“I’ll pay you back,” she interrupted me.

“It’s ok,” I let go of her and waved my hands in front of me, “you don’t need to.”

“What do you do?” She stared at me with stunning green-eyes of interest.

“I work at a dry cleaners,” I opened the door to the van.

“I’ll be sure to come by and give you a big stack of clothes,” she smiled. “Can I have the phone number for the dry cleaners?”

“Umm…yeah, sure,” I shuffled through my backpack to get a notebook and a pen to write down the number of where I worked. I handed her the sheet with the number on it, “It’s just right down the street from here.”

“Okay, okay,” she shook her head. “Thanks again.” She walked off to a beat-up car and inside was a Hispanic man in a baseball cap and a little boy. “God bless you again.”

“No problem,” I called out to her as I shut the door to the van.

“How much did you give her?” My co-worker started the van.

“Don’t worry,” I looked him dead in the eyes, “just be happy that you’re not like her.” I didn’t know what came over me when I said this to someone twice my age, but somehow I just blurted it out. He just shrugged his shoulders and went to our next delivery.

During the entire trip, I thought of how lucky and thankful I was for what I have. I also thought of never seeing that twenty-six dollars again, but I didn’t really care. Money was always money. A good deed was always a good deed. I know somehow I’ll be repaid.

Karma exists.


Anonymous said...

"No good deed goes unpunished." .... look what happened to Dr. Tenma for saving a kid's life.


Vatche said...

Well, with his good deed, which is saving a little boy's life, he also sacrificed someone else's, the mayor's. So I guess, he gets what he deserves...

Anonymous said...

a serial killer?


Vatche said...

How was Dr. Tenma supposed to know that he saved the life of some neo-Nazi boy, known to be reincarnation of Satan?

Anonymous said...

im just saying that you dont always get repaid for your actions, so you have to make them with the knowledge that you might get nothing back at all (or worse).


Vatche said...

Well, like I said in the article, I believe in karma...

Paul L. Martin said...

Quite a heroic deed in these depressed times, Vatche. I am proud of you.

Vatche said...

Thanks, Mr. Martin. During these tough times, everyone needs help. I am glad you are proud of me; thanks for the comment!

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