The Scam on the Corner

He sat outside the building where I lived in a condo. He looked to be a cross between a wise ass and what he purported to be, a blind man who — presumably was there to sell used pencils. Some of the stubs longer than others

The city strictly enforced a No Panhandling ordinance in that section of town.

Solution to the ordinance:

This nicely dressed handicapped man always had an enviable large begging bowl filled with folding: a rare ten and a fiver or 2 — but mostly ones and coins.

On the table in front of him and his dog was a table with an assorted number of second hand pencils spread out.

Ah-ha, he was not a panhandler but a pencil vendor. His city vendors license was there on his table in all its laminated glory.

Faithful guide dog laying on the sidewalk by his side, table in front of him, inventory of pencils on display, bowl full of money whenever I see him; life’s normal here on the 3rd planet from the sun.

Never heard him say a thing. Probably because I never bought a pencil.

In bad need of a pencil:

I was running a bit late for a doctors appointment about a week ago. Hastily making an exit from my condo, catching the elevator I realized about half way down, I’d forgotten my pencil. I needed one to do the Times crossword puzzle on the train out to my appointment.

Bummer, a half hour of boredom riding out to the doctor’s

I quickly realized if I take the time to go back up, I’d miss the train and consequently miss the doctor appointment.

The thought hit me suddenly:

I could do something that I hadn’t ever done before.

Should have maybe.

But never did!

Buy a pencil from the blind vendor who sets up shop just outside the building every day.

Surprise:

As I approached the blind pencil vendor, I fished around my wallet figuring what a used pencil would cost: a penny, 5 cents.

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