Last night I found myself at a bar next to a woman who was hopefully drinking at the rate that would have me looking like Christian Bale within a few hours. As we bought another round a man who was actually shorter than I ambled up to the bar at my left shoulder and asked for a Samuel Adams. The imbibing babe by my right shoulder chuckled, “He’s in the wrong joint! This is a Crudweiser hole-in-the-wall.”

The man did settle for a Guinness stout and sat quietly taking in the sights and sounds of rampant inebriation among the city hicks to his left, as the older bachelors to the lady’s right in the back of the bar talked about betting odds. Eventually the fellow commented on a boxing match on TV and was suddenly a person of interest.

His name is Sam, a mild mannered genteel man from Arlington Virginia who works in finance and somehow ended up in Harm City Central. He and his new wife are part of the urban re-gentrification process in this area. Sam began asking me for neighborhood information; seemingly out on a scouting expedition to determine the best and safest venues to bring his wife. It was not long before a Harm City business card was produced and Sam began relating some panhandler experiences…

Sam was at a traffic light in Washington D.C. when he noticed one of three panhandlers attempting to acquire the companionship of a lady who was light years out of his league. The other two panhandlers looked at each other holding their signs, and one said to the other, “We can’t have this. He’s bad for business!”

I for one am glad that D.C. has a panhandlers’ union, and would like to invite them to open a locale in Harm City, which I will throw my inconsiderable political clout behind.

Sam was driving into Baltimore one day and experienced the industry of a ‘squeegie kid’ who cleaned his windows for ‘some change’. He then parked elsewhere and experienced the industry of a man who did something for him [The city hicks were howling a country western song and I missed that Sam.]. Sam then pulled into a gas station and was confronted by a man who just ‘asked for some change.’ “I felt my empty pockets, and then thought to myself, ‘If there are going to be bills involved, or even just change, than this man should at least pump my gas.’ By that point in the day I was already conditioned to patronize all of these informal activities. He needed to get with the program!”

So even mild-mannered Sam has something of the capitalist tyrant in him!

“I was pulling onto an off ramp and this fellow is leaning out into the road, holding a gas can, declaring that he had broken down and needed some ‘change’ to help fill his gas can, so that he could fuel up his car. I just thought to myself, ‘Now that is a very well-planned unforeseen occurrence. I do not haul a gas can around with me in case I break down.’ It was at about that time that I realized that panhandling was a business, a job.”

If I might speak on behalf of Baltimore panhandlers, When the D.C. Panhandler Union opens their locale in Baltimore I would like to nominate Sam as their accountant and investment analyst. I have your business card Sam! Expect a collect call from one of the seven surviving Harm City payphones anytime now.