Arty's Paradox

So there I am on the sidewalk in Seattle, cold, hungry, and becoming evermore cloudy-minded as I look at the photo of a child pasted onto the cover of a man's portfolio. That child's face had guilt written all over it, so I turned my attention to the man. He was off on an art school tangent, something about being in zombie movies and how it's not all that bad to wash fake blood out of clothes. And this, as we all know, is really code for "your money donation can help save the lives of children overseas just like the one you see here on my portfolio!" I looked down the sidewalk.

My friends had already left me and were now on the other side of the street, entering one of the costume stores we had planned to go to. Great. "Don't leave me!" I yelled to them, but it was too late. They waved to me and smiled as they entered the store, leaving me to my doom.

What was I to do now? Being the incredibly nice person that I am, I couldn't just tell this man to shove it and let me be (although I wish I did). So I offer to donate a wad of cash and be on my way, but apparently this offer wasn't selfless enough. I had to fill out some sort of papers and become contractually obligated to keep donating money in the future, else my soul will be guilt-ridden for eternity. I'd be totally up for it if I weren't, lets say, a starving college student!

I was growing weary of this man's long-winded banter, and was ready to just walk away when the man's "buddy" came slinking up and hi-fived me. Then he began to give me that old guilt story of how I should be grateful for everything I've got and why not share it with less-fortunate people. And all this time I'm thinking, "what about all the problems we've got in our own country, in our own state, in our own cities?" It's nice to be concerned about the whole world, but I think it's just a bit backwards to "fix" the rest of the world while we've got poor, homeless, diseased people right here that are being overlooked. And anyways, the contract was pricey (for a college student): $20/month for ever. And I had to sign it right there on the sidewalk, couldn't go home and talk to my parents about it or anything. That's intense.

But this second man continued his stories, oblivious that I was losing interest. And here's what really got to me: he mentioned that signing up to give money was cool, that I could brag to all my friends about it. In other words, me donating wouldn't really be out of genuine concern for others, but rather out of selfish egoism so I can feel good about myself. So lets see, that means if I don't sign up I'll be a greedy bastard, and if I do sign up I'll be a greedy bastard.

I considered these two options carefully while the second man continued to babble on. It was decided then: I was cold and hungry and didn't want to be left alone in Seattle. "Sorry, I'm really a cold, calloused person," I finally had to tell the two men. Geez, how blunt do people need to get with them? It must've been pretty blunt though, because the second man became huffy and said he'd go find somebody that cared. And then he left. And I was standing there in a daze, wondering what had just happened.