I might not have a home but I do have a sense of humor.
Selling papers can be challenging. There are times when you appear to be the life of the party, while at other times people walk by you like you have a disease.
Learning how to sell Street Sense has taught me techniques in human relations. I’ve learned how to deal with the angry, the obnoxious and the miserable. I learned the art of persuasion and can turn the objection into a “Yes”.
But most of all, I have collected amusing, colorful stories that I can share.
A Leg Up
When I first sold papers, I didn’t know about panhandlers’ territories. I began selling papers on L Street when I heard this fellow with a cane and a limp screaming, “Get the !$#!$#!# out of here!” He was a crusty, ill-mannered chap who resembled Oscar the Grouch, calling me names not suitable for print. So I ignored him and continued selling Street Sense.
I had a lot of people buying from me while he was being ignored. When one customer gave me a large donation, the guy lost it and tried to get me to fight. I ducked and danced as if I were Muhammad Ali. He was enraged because he couldn’t land a blow, so he reached in his pants and threw his leg at me and almost connected. I couldn’t stop laughing. When I see him on 19th and L by the Corner Bakery, I always yell, “How’s the leg?”
Why I Don’t Watch Fox News
I was selling newspapers at Union Station when I spotted Greta Van Susteren, the host of “On the Record.” I had a Street Sense and she gave me a look of curiosity and asked, “What do you have?” I did my greatest sales pitch, but I didn’t ask for her autograph. She did my classic, favorite tactic, “I will see you on the way back.” She came back and smiled, but said she wasn’t interested.
Tight On Money Supply
I decided to try out a new location on Connecticut and M, when someone said that Allen Greenspan was coming down the street. As he was walking past me, I said, “Good morning sir, have you read a Street Sense?”
For an old man he does have quick feet, and he hurried by me. He seemed in no mood for stopping. When he came back I told a little joke and he snubbed me again. I took the snub personally. I guess trickle down really doesn’t trickle down to a Street Sense vendor.
Sir Cheesy
While on my way to sell newspapers at the corner of 17th and L, I stumbled upon an elderly man with a cup, crying, “Can you spare change? I am hungry and have no food to eat.” I went into a CVS and bought him a couple of sandwiches and a two-liter soda.
I was feeling good for helping someone when they were down. I took the sandwiches to him and he asked where the receipt was. I did a double take because I couldn’t understand the ungratefulness of this homeless person. I decided that I would grab the bag and have lunch. As I walked away from this panhandler he told the same sad story to another person, and they reached in their pocket and gave him $20. I walked away muttering, “Only in America.”
The Wicked Witch of Farragut North
One of my favorite corners is the park on the corner of Farragut North, known as “Corner Alley.” It has everyone from hotdog vendors to panhandlers, lined up like grizzly bears for a salmon run. I like this area because there is breathing space where people have to stop.
One day I was on a stroll when I noticed an old lady standing behind me screaming some gibberish. She was old, wearing a lewd outfit, and must have been in her early 70s. She had a stroller with a Frank Sinatra sign. As I was paying attention to her, I saw her get up and begin pushing her stroller toward me. I tried to give her the right of way when I realized she was headed right for me. She tried to run me over, then went into her cart, picked up her bag and started trying to hit me with it.
It was embarrassing to get beaten up by an old lady. What was even worse was that she tried to put a hex on me. I wasn’t right for a couple of days and now when I see her I move in fear.
Off-Key
I was at Eastern Market where there are usually lots of vendors, so it can be cut-throat. I found a vacant area and started selling; I was doing very well when an old man set up right behind me and started playing the sax. I was irked that he had to be right behind me to play. What was more nauseating was that he played horribly.
Sometimes, where there’s a lot of competition, you have to use Bill Gates-style tactics to clear out corners. I offered the guy $20 to never, ever play again.
