remote cards

Chugger. Charity Mugger. It’s a sunny evening. There are two of them in deep conversation, the afternoon peak has died down, the evening build up is only at light stream level. They have the look of scruffy students, earning a bit of money by stopping people in the street and asking them for their bank account details for charity. I worked for an organisation that was involved in these kind of things, its something I have issues with, I admit it. I’m hoping that I will get by them unnoticed, like I did when they were out on Thursday as well. But of course, the conversation ends. He goes in one direction, she turns in mine. There are other people wandering towards her, closer, but their tactic is to pick people by themselves, as its easier to delay them than groups. So despite being a good 20 metres away from me, she starts waving her arms in the air and shouting at me. I can’t make out a word she is saying, but I can guess, if it weren’t for the red jacket with the charity’s name across the back I would come to the conclusion that she was a crazy woman - this is not reasonable behaviour. From that distance I raise my voice and say NO, I hate raising my voice. She keeps coming anyway, still shouting away, still incoherent, I shake my head, I mouth no. She keeps on damn well coming. I keep saying no. At last she is within audible distance, perhaps about 2-3 arms lengths. Come on, 30 seconds, she hollers. At last I lose my patience. I. Make. My. Feelings. Known. I. Say. It. Bluntly. Fuck! Off! And I have passed her. Well, she calls behind me, trying to hit me with perky sarcasm, you have a lovely Saturday night sir. Thank. You. I. Will. And I just feel tired.