BegsList, by Jenny Bahn

I have never been one for taking money from others. This is, of course, with the exception of my very dependent youth in which I leeched and siphoned money off of my parents like a Hummer does petrol. However, in my later years, the ones that I have found myself able bodied and capable enough to attempt to handle responsibilities on my own, I have found that the strings attached to “free” money are never worth whatever good or service that is purchased with someone else’s cash.

Lending money out to others myself also rubs me the wrong way, being as I hate to be the one who has to remind her best friend that she owes me a whole $5, because, on the one hand, it’s only $5, and on the other hand, it’s my $5. Back in high school I would have had to work an entire hour for that. Granted, I am thankfully no longer in that tax bracket (i.e. the government ignores my money earning efforts entirely), but still, it’s the principle of the matter.

When I lend money, I lend it with the anxiety tied to the yet to have materialized, impending moment when I scan through my “To Do” list only to come across things like “Jill owes me 20” dated four months earlier. Frankly, I’d just rather not come across as a cheap, militant accountant, despite the fact that I actually am.

The other morning, while listening to NPR with my eyes half open at 6 AM, I tuned in on a segment about online begging. Huh? Lucky enough for the other drivers en route to hell hole Orange County, my ears perked up and my eyes opened a little wider. Apparently, there are multiple Internet sites dedicated entirely to the act of begging strangers for money. The good old world wide web has opened up an entirely new portal for those who usually just make me feel uncomfortable with their poorly worded cardboard signs and lack of footwear when I pass them in real life. No longer do people have to limit themselves to the outside of supermarkets or street corners; all you need is a laptop and a WiFi connection and BAM, free sympathy.

My ire piqued immediately. From the last paragraph, one might think that I am heartless and entirely lacking of empathy/ soul/ etc. In my defense, I do feel terribly for these people, but I am equally distrustful as well. Too many stories I have heard about how some of these people have homes and rake in high figure “salaries” from begging. Too many times have I offered food in place of cash, only to get a slurred and not so polite “Fuck off” from a person I would assume to be hungry.

Internet begging really chaps my rear end for a few reasons. First, and most obvious, these “beggars” need to own a computer and presumably have Internet access in one form or another. This costs money. When I pass by the same man in the median of the Laurel Canyon onramp, I like to think of him as going back to a box, not a house. And that box (in my imagining) does not have electrical or cable outlets, let alone high-speed WiFi. I had always thought you begged when you had nothing. These online people beg and I know for a fact they have something. It’s not that I am happy or content with these people hard up on their luck and in possession of no possessions, but, again, it’s the principle of the matter.

NPR mentioned a begging website that actually charges $45 per month to host each individual’s online begging efforts. The fee is justified by the company’s claim that the money is used to provide the upmost service to enhance the appeal of your online beg. This is similar to online dating services that tell you not to include things like “I sleep with 54 cats” in your online profile.

Now, I have never (knock on wood) been in the position where begging seemed like the most immediate and necessary option. I do not know what it’s like to be completely down and out, and I feel terribly for those that do…usually. If you can’t afford to pay your heating bill and you live in North Dakota, there’s a spot in my heart that leaks blood for you. But the first person interviewed for this piece was a man who just wanted to give his kids a Christmas this year and he couldn’t afford to do it on his own.

This really gets my goat. I understand the magical value of a Christmas morning to children: going to sleep on Christmas Eve knowing that a 400 pound man in a red suit is going to park his reindeer on your snowless roof and shimmy down your chimney (if you have one) and drop some toys under a real or fake tree is unbelievably fun for kids. I get that. But come on, man. Get creative. Our culture has become so obsessed with material items that it seems impossible to imagine Christmas morning without a new toy or a plastic wrapped video game. If this man really wanted to give something to his children it would be a good and honest conversation about how daddy’s made some bad decisions (including having children before he was financially prepared…although, he will most likely omit this part) and that this Christmas he will be focusing on more important things, etc, etc. I would rather hear that from my dad then hear him on NPR, saying that he needed someone else to buy me a fucking Cabbage Patch Doll.

You’ll have to forgive my harshness on the subject, but in light of the economic and environmental environment that we currently live in, the need to consume – blindly, perpetually, habitually – into oblivion has become ever the more unpalatable. I generally view the people who cannot afford to consume the way the rest of us do like a silent blessing for this planet.

Reading financial articles on the “Road to Recovery” being hinged solely on consumption makes me rather ill, because it is a cycle that needs desperately to be broken to save valuable nonrenewable resources, but breaking that cycle is inherently detrimental the economy as we know it. It is hard to ask society to rein in the fruits of their intellectual and technological bounty, to beg people to live more thoughtful, simple lives. But I digress.

I might just be the most naïve person on the subject, but I have always believed that where there’s a will, there’s a way. Generally, begging has never been a part of that “way” and online begging was something I had never even begun to imagine.