Published in Beat Magazine, April 27, 2005

“Excuse me…”

Those words rang out as I walked down the main street of Bunbury, Western Australia, making my way through a disappointing bag of prawn crackers (“Oh well, perhaps the next cracker won’t be stale. Oh well, perhaps…”). Those who know me know that I’m not predisposed to such optimism, but… well… I was hungry. This is hardly the point of the column, but it is currently 2.17am, and I am hungry again, so that may taint what I type.

Food aside, I was somewhat vulnerable to the words that began this column. Minutes before, I had heard them from another source further up the street, and turned to be faced by a stunning woman, who asked me the time. I told her, she smiled, I smiled, and she walked away. Granted, this doesn’t sound like a big deal. For those with a porn-based imagination, my reply to “have you got the time” would have been something like “if you’ve got the stamina, sweet cheeks”, and thus the wah guitar soundtrack would have kicked in. If you have more of a Mills and Boon bent, I would’ve had the wherewithal to say something complimentary and witty, and asked her to have coffee with me, leading to a lifelong romance. However, in the real world, the smile was all I was going to get, and it worked for me.

So, a short time later, as my prawn cracker doldrums set in, I heard the words again, and turned. Standing there was a woman only slightly too young to be filed under Little Old Lady, so in a flash my mindset went from Chivalrous to Boy Scout. I smiled, until she brought her hands forward from behind her back. In an instant, shields went up. My mind raced as the woman in front of me became a threat, the weapon clear in her previously hidden grasp. The object in her hands was a collection tin.

Evidently, this conniver had gotten sick of everyone immediately going to Yellow Alert from a distance, and had figured a tactic to assault from close range. The main defence against the charity onslaught is the AEC Plan – Avoid Eye Contact. The person could be singing the French National Anthem into a megaphone after setting themselves on fire, but they don’t officially have your attention until eye contact is made, thus the “excuse me”. We’ve become more and more immune to people handing out flyers (ask any comedian who walked the streets earlier this month trying to get bums on Comedy Festival seats), trying to lure us into credit card deals at airports, and out-and-out asking for cash, that the trapping has begun. Showing herself to be a seasoned campaigner, the follow-up was equally slick. Tin in full view now, her question was as follows:

“Will you help sick and injured wildlife?”

Suddenly it’s like we’re in the operating theatre, a vet beating on a native animal’s chest screaming “don’t you die on me, dammit!”, while we stand by with the defribulator. How do you answer that question in the negative? “Will I help? No, I will not. Their suffering does not reach my conscience, o Benevolent Hag, for I have none. Had I the chance, I would snuff out their flickering life force myself, but instead you have given me the opportunity to wreak such heartless havoc merely by withholding finance from you. Begone! Get thy volunteering behind me, and interrupt not my search for a beverage with which to cleanse my palate free of stale prawn cracker remains.”

Or, in my case, “sorry, I don’t have any change.”

She smiled sadly at me, twisting my guilt once more, then departed, her Sword of Donations once again sheathed behind her back, ready to plunge into another wallet. The thought occurred that she was in a good position to enact this tactic, unlike many of her fellow gatherers. For example, anyone in Melbourne who was engaged with the “excuse me” connector, and turned to see a backpacker in a koala suit with their hands behind their back would not be thinking “how can this pantomime character benefit from my assistance? Perhaps he/she has a flat tire, or… oh, good lord! A bucket! They want money!” And certainly, unless your search for a partner leads you to look on Healesville Sanctuary with more of a “text Flirt to 131415” attitude, you won’t be engaging either the porn or Mills and Boon mindset.

And now, may my tired legs direct me to bed without once again raiding the fridge, and may Providence preserve us from little old ladies.