And have no feelings.
No emotions, just plain logic.

Because emotions and feelings are easily manipulated. Just having a class called psychology is enough proof for that.

Everytime I get off the skytrain at brighouse, there is always someone there asking for money.
Me, possessing the guilty conscience that I have, always stumble to find the right response.

“Do I tell them no because I don’t want to give them any of my money? Or should I instead say I don’t have any so to put it off nicely? But I actually do have money, so should I instead say I have some, but only a little?”

I usually go for the second, but today, I went with the third option.

And guess what, these supposedly “kind” and “nice” people that were collecting money for ‘charity’, tell me that it is okay and ask me to give them it, no matter how small.

At this point, I’m either annoyed, or confused. Annoyed that they are not that much different from people who steal money, with them basically towering over me commanding me to ‘donate’ (which I should mention is probably not actually going to be donated); and confused because they didn’t follow the train of thought I thought they would have.

Normally I would just tell them that I need the money for my busy ride (not really an entire lie, as I am getting on the bus, but I have a pass), because I still don’t have the heart to just tell them “No, it’s my money, screw off.” But today, I caved in with a sigh, and pulled out my wallet to dig for coins to give them. I was looking for a few nickels and dimes to satisfy this person’s hunger for my riches (not really ‘rich’ but you get the point), but unintentionally find a toonie.

You can probably guess what happened then. I looked up at the person to see if he was paying attention, and to me deep regrets, he was. And carrying the guilty conscience that I have, I gave him the toonie.

Between you and me, I think he saw the loonie in my wallet as well, and probably would have grabbed it from my wallet, or asked me about it if it had been a millimeter farther out of my wallet. Damn collectors, they’re like politicians, never damned satisfied with what they have at the moment, always looking for ways to get more. But what they want to get more of, depends on the job. With politicians wanting more fame and votes, while collectors just want more of your money.

With a sigh of defeat, I continued to walk forward, and bam. O’ god, why have you forsaken me? Right in front me of, is ANOTHER donation collector. Hell, one from the same company, probably also saw me donate to his colleague behind me. Damn heartless worker, can’t you leave me, my conscience and my wallet alone?! I swear, Stephen Harper must have been one of these little buggers when he was young.

Against my better judgment, I stop AGAIN to this collector. But this time, before he can say anything, I tell him “Sorry, I don’t have any money to give you, bye.” And continue walking toward the bus stop, this time at a faster pace, hoping to avoid collectors.

You would think that a collector would be use to rejection, but no. This one is one son of a (VULGAR LANGUAGE WARNING!) b—h, I clearly hear him say “Damn, what a (WARNING, MORE VULGAR LANGUAGE) f–king cheapskate! Didn’t even give me a cent.”

Bloody hell, how low the volunteers of this age have fallen. Does NO ONE around the sky-train station have ANY manners? I swear, if I had seen another collector approaching me today, I would have told him that it would have been better to beg off a begger.

This is why I have commuting home.