I’ve been thinking about social contracts a lot since last night. Here I mean the unspoken, or nonspoken, ways in which we relate to other people, and how malleable they can be, and how difficult it is when they’re violated, even out of desperation.
Because last night a homeless man knocked on our door and asked for food.
My personal policy when it comes to people who panhandle, or beg, or whatever you want to call it, is to help them get whatever object they’re asking for. But if they just ask for money, I ignore. If people hold signs that say, “Will work for food” I will go and buy them a sack of food– enough for several meals. If someone asks me for money for coffee, I go and buy the biggest coffee I can. This is how I deal with a tricky, uncomfortable part of the social contract.
So when this man showed up last night and Christopher answered the door, he sort of growled at me to stay put. But I really couldn’t. I suspect it has to take an enormous amount of courage to knock on a door, especially in a dodgy neighborhood like ours, to ask for food. But I went outside and listened to him and then fixed him plenty of food to take with him.
It would’ve been a happy, Christmas-y story, I think, had it ended there. But it didn’t. As I was giving him what I’d prepared– all of it would keep and last him for several meals– he started asking for cash. There was a whole additional story, about how he needed to get to Smithfield and couldn’t walk, which I felt obligated to listen to, as he was standing on my porch showing no sign of leaving. He managed to take a breath eventually and I said, “We’re not cash people.” That put a quick enough end to it. I don’t know how a few dollars might have helped him get to Smithfield, but I had no dollars to give.
And I felt bad about that. And that made me feel bad and angry. Why should I feel guilty for not being a cash person? Is it a “give an inch; take a mile” thing or did I turn the “sucker” sign over my head on when I handed him a big bag of food? If I’d given him five dollars, would he have asked for something else? I comforted myself by deciding that he had been the one to violate our contract. I tacitly supported his first minor violation by giving him what he asked for. And you may think that I am obligated to provide for him, in that case, but I only agree with you to an extent. To continue past that point, to attempt to extend our transaction, soured me for the whole experience.
Christopher’s afraid we’ll get a reputation now, as a house you can go to to get food. There are worse reputations we could have, I suppose. Again, I have no problem giving people food if they need it. I’m worried that we’ll become a house you can go to and just keep on asking.