Charity begins at home.. so why not stay there

Charity begins at home.. so why not stay there

I can just about deal with someone bursting into the office at one minute to lunch. So long as I give the burstee some fragment of assurance that I will chase up whatever it is i haven't done after lunch they don't mind. But when you come up again a force so powerful that any reasoning or act of excusing oneself is gobbled up faster than left overs at Rick Waller's house, it becomes a far more unsettling matter. I'm talking of course about the street nazis or as they are better known.." people in kagools collecting for charity." I just don't get it, what happened to the kind ladies of the salvation army who used to stand outside shop fronts on cold saturday mornings handing out pin badges or the man who sold the poppies who understood if you were having a busy day and didn't bat an eyelid if you didn't have time to stop. When did charities start adopting the hard sell? You will listen to me and i don't care that you're running late for picking your kids up from school.

"It's all about raising awareness" a spokesman for the charity will say. Is it ? I mean aren't we already living in an age where we are constantly bombarded with so much information that even before Brian from West Bromwich is arrested for burglary we know his name, where he lives and what his favourite meal is (pasta and chips with muller yoghurt to follow). With Facebook, Twitter, Mobile phones, plus the old stagers like newspapers and television it is almost impossible to know nothing about any given topic. Living on the moon is no longer a valid excuse.

And yet with all this information it is still not acceptable to suggest that you'll have a look later.

If someone holds a subject close to their heart and wishes to campaign on it's behalf then they should have the right to do so. But that dosen't mean that someone who literally has to be back in the office in 15 minutes and still has to go to the bank and get a sandwich from Boots should be made to feel guilty. And no one does guilt like the kagool wearing charity collectors. At least with Jehovah's Witnesses you can shut the door.

Part of the reason for disliking this form of press ganging is due to the fact that they have an uncanny knack for stopping people at the worst possible moment. I went to a funeral once and they were flocking outside the church with their free pin badges. The deceased was the lucky one. They always stop you on your lunch hour or straight after work, if they approached you on a saturday afternoon when you've just had a liquid lunch then you would probably be more prepared to pour over and digest the information in front of you. You might even sign up for a year in order to get the free T -Shirt. It's partly that but it's also the feeling you get that by 3 o'clock that afternoon, after standing around in the sun all day, they're going to be in the pub singing Maggie May on the karaoke whilst you're in the office taking flack for sending out the wrong insurance document for the 50th time.

I got stopped once , whilst i was walking home from work and and I was having guests that evening so my mind was firmly fixed on what frozen pre -cooked nibbles I could bung in the oven. As I entered the high street, I was attacked. Well it was more of a skip, that skip they do with their clip board and insincere smile seldom seen outside a sales conference.

" Hi mate " I ignored this bit- " How has you day been?" No need to look up, default setting already set to " sorry I'm in a rush."

" That wasn't what I asked?" she said. Fuck! I wasn't prepared for that. I stopped and turned towards her and tried to not to fix her glare. I made a stab at humour, " I have to be in the house by six o'clock, doctor's orders." She gave me a look that suggested that I explain that to the starving kids in Africa. " It will only take 10 minutes, what's 10 minutes out of a whole day?" A lot when you have 4 dinner guests and you haven't even got to Iceland yet. " Just 20 pounds can pay for a mosquito net, we can even spread the payments". She showed me a financial breakdown of how those monthly instalments. When I saw in big bold letters " the equivalent of £1.66 per month " I thought I was going to explode with guilt. I should have heeded the advice of my colleague at work who said " I just ignore them, annoying twats" but now I was digging myself into a hole. I'd finished reading the propaganda but she wasn't paying attention as she was now talking to her colleague. She carried on as if I wasn't there. I wanted so much to get away but by ignoring me i felt like someone in a bar just before closing time who has made a stab at chatting someone up. Just as the conversation is dying on it's arse a male "freind" she knows turns up and they start chatting. You know full well that she's probably going to leave with him but you stay in the picture to see what happens. So you stand, shit faced, propping yourself up against a wall, muttering to yourself until you think there might be an opening. Oh for an opening now.

" I won't be long " she said to her departing friend. She swung round to me and for some reason I looked again at the dialogue in front of me even though I'd just spent 5 minutes before reading ti from top to bottom. This vexed her, " Tell you what I'll leave it with you." And with that she left. Hold on, don't get arsey with me. I'm not the one who pestered someone who was in a hurry to get home. For someone who was looking for an escape route I wasn't very grateful.My ordeal wasn't over. I still had to make it from one end of the high street to the other and that involved walking straight into the heart of their lair. I bowed my head to avoid fixing eye contact, any one making goose steps towards me was quickly halted as I walked the other way. A white man with dreadlocks probably called Spider or Ebola raced at me bellowing in a scottish accent - " Hey Big Man"- like I was some long lost relative. I didn't stop. Sensing my annoyance he escalated it further by shouting after me - " You have a nice day now eh?".