Marketing for Panhandlers

As my time in Tallahassee draws to a close (for now?), I have paused to reflect on the city and the ways in which it has contributed to my growth as a person. Or, if it has at all. This year has not been what I would call fun. Quite the opposite. In fact, if my years were measured in laughter, this year would rank on the bottom. That said, times of quiet difficulty generally allow for self-examination. I think we all have some ingrained reactions to stimuli that perhaps we’re not particularly proud of. One that I’ve noticed in myself is how I assess those less fortunate than me. Tallahassee has no shortage of individuals pleading for your spare change. For such a small city, it surprised me how frequently I was confronted for money. Since these individuals became a regular fixture in my intra-Tally travels, I started to measure their ability to garner actual donations. I’ve had to face the uncomfortable reality of my proclivity to judge in the process.

To digress for a moment, I’ve always been slightly fascinated and mildly disturbed by the concept of marketing. Frankly, I always found the venture to be a way in which we condone outright deception. I suppose the intent is to find a suitable market for your product. In its most high-minded form, you are simply presenting something that you believe your targeted audience either needs, or could derive benefit from. However, marketing more often seems like a socially acceptable form of manipulation.

Take my daughter for instance. We don’t have cable at home. Whenever we visit a home that does have cable, it isn’t the television programming that catches her eye – it is the commercials that are designed to lure her attention and ensnare her little desires. She sits transfixed by commercials and only breaks her attention to turn and squeal some semi-indecipherable plea for me to buy the product. The commercials employ pretty little girls, lots of sparkles, and the color pink. I’m pretty sure that if she saw a commercial in which two girls with curly pigtails and giant smiles were playing with a semi-automatic weapon that had been painted pink while glitter fell from the sky, she’d want that too.

So, point is – you have to know your audience and use psychology against them. The panhandlers of Tallahassee have taught me a thing or two about my own ingrained, admittedly selfish, psychology and by extension – what I can assume those around me must be thinking. In coming to this realization, I think I have devised some suggestions for more effective homeless marketing.

First, most people believe you only want to purchase liquor and cigarettes. Maybe even a little crack. While asking for funds, it is advisable that you not smoke or drink from a paper bag. Next, make sure you reach out to a market that is not already oversaturated. Diversify. When you are seen on the same street corner, day after sweltering Florida day, I will unwittingly make the assumption that if you can pound that pavement all day long, day after day, you can pound the pavement for employment. Also, put your best face forward. Many of us think you believe you’re entitled to a handout. Don’t look at us with disgust. Sure, you’re down and out. But express some good cheer and gratitude for those quarters we’ve got in the ashtray! Moreover, try a little refreshing honesty. Do I really believe you’re a veteran? Maybe. Hungry? I don’t know. Pull out that cardboard and marker and try this: “Honestly, a beer sounds good. Got a dollar?” or “If you don’t have any money, can I at least bum a smoke?”

I suppose I’m not completely serious about those. (Although, they may prove useful.) But they all stem from judgments I’ve made about these people, often without even really putting that much thought into it. Adults don’t respond to marketing tactics that involve sparkles and talking cartoon animals. Most of us need a message that resonates on a deeper level; that involves some core value or experience that we all share. I think adversity is something that most people understand. Clearly, these panhandlers are experiencing it. The thing is my knee-jerk reaction is to believe that their adversity is different because it is self-inflicted or the product of a weakness in character. Then again, how many of my own personal difficulties are the result of a similar dynamic? I wish I knew how best to help these people. I really don’t know the answer to that. I do know that as the intended audience of these pleas for compassion, it may not resonate with me because I lack that quality more than I’d like to admit.

Honestly, I'm Lying . . .

It has been a while since I’ve written something that did not require meticulous citation. Hence, why I sit at my kitchen table at 4:30 a.m. reeling from citing Federal Energy Regulatory Commission opinions (you cite these beasts by the paragraph) - taking shelter in free-form prose. Being awake at this ungodly hour allows for incredible silence and reflection as well. It is certainly needed. This has been a trying week, to put it very mildly.

Unlike my usual posts, I don’t have a theme for this one. This is more of a catharsis from the onslaught of the last several days. I guess this begins with Sunday. It came to my attention then that I am not quite as honest as I thought I was. It’s not that I am being overtly or intentionally deceiving. My lies are more subconscious. I have never considered myself to be a very emotional person. In fact, I have often taken pride in the fact that very few people can say they’ve seen me cry. (I did, however, cry at Toy Story 3. I was alone, though.) Now, I am a passionate person. For instance, engage me in a discussion on Newt Gingrich’s view of the environment and just wait for the verbal onslaught and decibel-level ascent. I lack the same zeal in describing the state of my personal affairs.

I believe that the sacrifices we make for other people will most often be much more rewarding than simply abiding by the dictates of our own desires. That said, constant dedication to other people and ideals can leave your own soul and body in a state of sad neglect. I am somewhat unwilling to admit that this may be my status quo. Sunday, as I was leaving church, my tightly reined-in emotions decided to rear their too long-ignored head. My daughter took off running at the last “amen” despite being told to sit still for a moment, and I had to weave through a crowd to pull her back to my side. A woman approached me to ask about my moving plans and I tried to pull the words together as I held a defiant and surprisingly strong five year-old at bay. I was then asked by the bishop of our church “How are you doing?” My typical response to this question is broad smile, a nod, and “just fine!” But that day, before I could even release one full syllable, my voice cracked and the tears came. I answered him honestly: “You know, I’m having a pretty rough time right now.” That was the truth. Why did I feel so guilty telling it?

Do we all do that? Lie. Almost all the time. I realize none of us want the full state of affairs when we ask a simple “How are you?” to most people. That said, I think a lot of us – like me – have a hard time discerning when it might be acceptable, healthy even, to honestly answer that question. I’ve become so used to lying about it that I do it instinctively. My surroundings do not really encourage shows of emotion, and doing so would likely be viewed as a sign of weakness. (Although I did work for a plaintiff’s attorney at one time who expounded on the virtues of strategic crying. Unfortunately, I don’t have a sympathetic jury at the moment.) I certainly don’t have any definitive thoughts on this. It’s going to take some contemplation and practice on striking a balance between strength and honesty.

Then, there was Osama bin Laden. I have no hesitancy in admitting that my initial reaction was a totally exuberant “hell yeah” fist-pumping, giving the finger to a nonexistent adversary, display of jingoistic patriotism. Had I been in D.C. or New York, I would have been one of the much maligned revelers. After the festivities, came the hangover – as always. The reactions the next day were beyond discouraging. They were deflating. I think by the end of the day I had deduced only that people were idiots. Thank God we captured and killed public enemy number one so this great nation could continue on in unbridled stupidity. I was most bothered by the sudden, and questionably sincere, displays of pseudo-Ghandi-ism; and by that I mean – the comparisons of our impromptu jubilation to that of the terrorist reactions splayed across Fox News ad nauseam throughout the past decade. I won’t get into it here, but I think that comparison is utter absurdity. Moreover, I wonder where this extreme deference for human life, even a deplorable monstrosity of a human, has been all this time? It certainly was not without merit. Those arguments invoked some real internal debate for me. But some of it, in my opinion, was the typical self-righteousness of a reliably condescending segment of American politics. This is something I’ve been alluding to in a few of my posts. Take a moment of potential national unification, a collective sigh of relief, and turn it into an opportunity for a high-minded “Shame on you.” The question left from all of that was –do we still believe in anything so wholeheartedly that we’re willing to sacrifice lives in order to preserve it? Should we?

I’ve received several suggestions on what to write on, and I love that. I’m flattered to think that anyone wants my slightly neurotic opinion on anything. Please continue to do it. I’ll soon be out of the woods – hopefully - and back to posting frequently. Until then, seriously – If anyone asks, I’m doing just fine.