The Selfish Guide to the Subway Panhandler

Someone asks you for money. What do you do now?

It’s 7:30 PM and I get on the subway at 23rd St – it’s been a long day. The car is half full but a good number of the people get off at Herald Square but the car fills up again immediately (note: the New York City subway is a miracle of public transportation as far as the United States goes, but it’s miserable). We hear the one voice projecting above the crowd. A middle-aged man announces that he’s a Christian, a veteran, and a father. He’s down on his luck and needs a bit of cash to get through the night. I recognize this speech immediately and so does everyone else.

The speech is practiced and over-performed. It has the monotonous cadence revealing it’s the hundredth time it’s been spoken that day and the count is lost on the number of times that month. I glance over and notice what he’s wearing: standard New Balance sneakers, jeans, and a coat that I saw once at Burlington. I already have this guy figured out. I use this heightened perception to decide not to give this guy any money. After the speech ends, the man comes through with a bag, hat, or open hand asking riders for money.

This is the moment of truth. Do I have a spare dollar bill or two to give to someone in need? Or do I simply claim that I don’t have any cash? It’s not too farfetched: even in New York, cash is less necessary these days. A few short years ago, you couldn’t get a slice without a dollar bill. But in 2022? It’s reasonable that I might not have any cash. This cashless excuse is the tactic I generally employ. Classic, easy, dependable.

On the other hand.

Maybe I could give a simple shake of the head and hope the person will accept rejection and move on. I don’t have the cash anyway but he doesn’t need to know that. But you’re not just communicating with this man, are you? There are dozens of riders around you judging each other's decisions at this moment. Lying about cash may convince others that you would give the man something – if only you had the means. The quick head shake might not be noticed but, if it is, then people see that you won’t even consider helping a fellow human being. Shameful.

There is another option.

The final option is a true gamble. I’m wearing headphones. Who isn’t, right? Who sits in the subway letting all those grotesque sounds enter their ears unfiltered? No one civilized, that’s for sure. Well, here’s the thing. Modern noise cancellation gives you plausibility that you heard the man speak in the first place. I have a home run option but you need to play your cards immediately.

This is how it works. You stare at the floor or close your eyes (not recommended in any public NYC setting) and envelope yourself in your podcast. Secretly, you can actually hear everything – these people are pretty good at making themselves heard. Once he starts walking through the car you hope he walks right by you. Why would he waste his time with someone who didn’t hear his speech in the first place? He has a number of these rounds left to make for the night and taking the time to get your attention is a hassle.

At this point, this can go one of two ways. The man recognizes your ignorance and skips you. Everyone sees that whatever you’re listening to must be terrific to not have even noticed the commotion (have some smart-sounding recommendations on-hand for later).

The other possibility highlights the true risk of this maneuver. You put in the work to seem unaware and focus your attention on whatever is being discussed on the podcast (you don’t know, you haven’t been listening). The man stops in front of you and you stare at the laces on his shoes. You’re forced to look up to see the man staring directly at you, waiting for some acknowledgment of his presence. Now, you lose the upper hand and are required to make a decision quickly.

If the risk falls through, you have the first two options presented here. The Lack of Cash and Shameful Head-Shake options are still perfectly valid responses. You must quickly choose one of those and exit this situation. The problem is that everyone around you would see what you did and lose the appearance of goodwill you would have gained by lying or at least the indifference of shaking your head. Those people keep their self-satisfaction while you wallow in shame.

I get home and haven’t thought about the event much since it happened. I don’t actually remember which of these options I actually chose this time. Or what happened after. 

I’m in the shower when I realize that I never considered giving the man a dollar or two. I didn’t treat this man with even a measure of respect and weigh the possibility that he actually needs our help. I see his intact clothes and assume he’s lying about his poverty. I stand in the shower thinking about what in life convinced me not to offer the benefit of the doubt to this person. Maybe some people are just looking for handouts on the train but many of them must need the help, right? Was this one of them? I could have made a meaningful difference in someone’s night but I didn’t. While rinsing my shampoo I get some in my eyes and I curse myself and forget what I’m thinking about.