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Of course, the other reason their faces might "light up" at the sight of the Metrocard is that now they have easy access to the subway and an infinite supply of new people to ask for money.
Well played, Brosnahan, well played!
Kadet is not interested in this type of giving, however, it just seems so... excessive. She confesses that, "this all sounded lovely, but I was still interested in finding out the least I could do and consider myself a decent person."
That's relatable, right? Whenever I hear about good works being done, I always think, Okaaayyyy...but how can I get the satisfaction of other people thinking I'm a decent person without actually DOING anything decent? Like, ever?
Luckily, Kadet came up with an idea. She would carry around $100 in singles for a week and dole one out for each poor, unfortunate soul who asked. You know who else has a lot of sympathy for "poor, unfortunate souls?" This woman. Though she's not what you'd consider a humanitarian.
Anyway. Although she implemented her plan, Kadet was in for a big surprise! What was it? It was that, "few people actually asked for money." You see, Kadet "had this idea that New York is an American Calcutta—a sea of neediness threatening to overwhelm and impoverish the generous. Not so."
After a full week, Kadet had only given away $6 and was left wondering if "the homeless [had] all decamped to Martha's Vineyard for the summer?"
In the end, Kadet realizes that she felt good about giving those who asked for $1. She wouldn't feel good about giving them $20, but she felt good about the $1, and better than if she did what she normally did, which—I am guessing, she never ACTUALLY says this—was spit on them.
And what did I realize at the end of this confession?
That my gag reflex kicks in for A REASON when I see women in fuzzy cardigans.
It's because they suck.
Follow Kristin Iversen on twitter @kmiversen