You had to be there to feel the menace!
I wouldn’t have believed it possible. So much threat packed into such a small package.
It was at my supermarket last Saturday. Ok, I was slightly jaded having just completed a shop almost three times the size of normal (my wife has a large family coming to stay). Pushing a heavy trolley with a frozen wheel round a crowded shop in search of elusive ingredients had not been its usual fun. (Why does sausage meat always seem to appear and then vanish at this time of year? Why don’t they stock reasonably sized jars of cranberry jelly?)
And ok, I admit that as I approached the exit, my hyper-critical genie had escaped its normally strong container. Since becoming an atheist my sympathy for the Salvation Army has slightly diminished, but when I saw around 20 of them causing a fair degree of chaos by parking themselves in the supermarket doorway, I did start to get annoyed. I mean, fighting to get a bag of sprouts and queueing at a checkout are kind of legitimate, but having to queue and fight to get passed a brass band in nineteenth century uniform is not on! It was the Saturday before Christmas and the shop was heaving! And I don’t know why - perhaps it was their first Christmas jaunt, perhaps this Saturday was the first outing of the season - but the normally soothing background carol music was grating against my already fraught brain. They were definitely playing out of tune. I mean, I’m no Mozart and am slightly deaf in one ear, but even I could tell they were playing out of tune. If I had had a dog, it would have been howling.
And then I saw her. A small, elderly lady - the kind that normally evokes natural concern and sympathy. She was certainly less than five feet tall, and I would guess she was in her late seventies or early eighties. She was guarding the pass - positioned by the small space for people to squeeze through as they left the shop, standing with a collecting tin thrust at you, staring at you, daring you to pass her without relieving yourself of cash.
Her look was hard and penetrating. As I approached her I felt the challenge: “Surely you are going to give?” Would she kick my shins if I didn’t? Fortunately, as soon as I felt the challenge, I decided that I was going to keep whatever change was in my pocket firmly in my pocket. And fortunately I was able to defend myself because I had occasion to articulate the reasons to myself at a similar situation earlier in the week.
Earlier in the week I had encountered two men, dressed as Father Christmas, similarly blocking the exit to another supermarket (yes, I do spend a lot of my life in supermarkets). Again, there was a disturbing message in their position and look. I deliberated for a second before passing by their outstretched collecting tins, but I did walk by, and having done so on this occasion, I found it easier to resist the Salvation Army lady.
Just before you completely dismiss me as a miserable scrouge, let me explain my reasons.
I like to know what I am giving to. Earlier this month I received an email from a cause close to my heart and had dispatched a gift to something I totally believed in and deliberately chose to support. That felt like meaningful giving to me - these two occasions didn’t. I certainly didn’t trust the two anonymous Father Christmases, and although the money given to the Salvation Army may have gone to good causes, it would have gone in the name of a religion I no longer feel comfortable in being associated with.
However, the main reason I didn’t give on these two occasions was because I felt I was being bullied, and whenever I feel I am being bullied these days, I try to resist the bullies on principle. Standing politely by a supermarket doorway inviting gifts is one thing, standing in the doorway and using your body language to try to compel them is another. There is a difference between believing passionately about your cause and putting your cards on the table for people to see, and believing passionately about your cause and trying to ram your cards down other people’s throats.
The ’sweet’ Salvation Army lady may have had the best of motives and she, on paper, was not an obvious person to associate with menace. Perhaps I am wrong and being completely stupid - but menace is what I felt, and menace is what I felt the need to resist.
james
it may of course have been another feeling rather than menace….
the uncomfortableness of confronting definite belief coupled with a mission to the poor..
the glorious message of the angels proclaiming the coming of the saviour who is Christ the Lord comes sometimes as an old-remembered theme but still brings its own allure- a thing of beauty is a joy for ever..
best wishes
richard
richard pennington
Greetings Richard. Not quite sure what you’re on about, but it was nice of you to say ‘Hello’ at Christmas. Yes, I accept I may have been wrong about her motives (whoever can tell one’s own motives, let alone anyone else’s) - but I certainly felt menace, and the menace was about giving, not about the uncomfortableness of confronting definite belief. I hope you and your family have a good one.
I am not keen on collections in shops or even on the street. I know times are hard for charities and they do need to do this but like you, I give to causes I feel strongly about and have checked out and I do it in a way that suits me. I am rarely swayed to give to street collectors - poppy people and occasionally if someone makes me smile (a quirky busker maybe).
I stubbornly refuse to give to anyone who makes me feel I ought to do so, or jangles their pot in my face. I never answer surveys or anything like that in the street either.
I’m not sure I have ever found anyone like that menacing but they are often irritating and border on causing harrassment. I can see how people would feel bullied in to giving. Not me, though I am too contrary for that. Glad you didn’t succumb either.
Have just written a comment but it was wiped- damn it, becuase my e-mail was typed wrong and I lost the page. It was a good comment and I won’t repeat it again, but will tell you another time.
I agree with what you say though.
Dam, the piece was lost.
Reluctant Blogger
Despite differences, I find it encouraging to know that we share a certain contrariness about giving to harrassing people.
onethoughtfulwoman
Thanks for dropping by. Sorry for the lost labour.
Definitely giving should be from the heart, otherwise what’s the point of it? If we gave to every single charity it would be a full time job. I think it is wise to give wholeheartedly to the ones we decide to support, in hope that not everyone chooses the same charity as we did. That way it will even out.
I do think people that honestly believe in their charity is easier to give to, not the ones that do it for a living, or push it in your face.
But maybe I am pushing in when saying that the menace you felt must have been coming from your own beliefs and perceptions, not from the lady’s attitude?
But what do I know : )
Susy - the undertaker
Thanks for dropping by. I agree that giving should be from the heart, and perhaps the menace was inside my head rather than her heart. It is hard to imagine some people having menace. At the time I definitely felt it though. And perhaps someone should advise charity collectors to stand in better places when collecting from crowded and busy shops.