I've had the privilege of spending time with some interesting people over the past few days. Whether through planned interaction or random encounter, I have crossed paths with persons from entirely different worlds (not meant to taken literally; I haven't talked to
aliens for at least four years).
My main passion in life, behind that God fellow, is people. There is nothing that interests me more than people, what they do, why they do it, and where they do it. Getting to see how the world operates outside of my own little microcosm affords a huge opportunity for personal growth and broadening of horizons. Plus I get to learn a lot about myself and why I do what I do.
TuesdayMy doorbell rang late in the afternoon, around 4ish. It was a faint ring, lasting perhaps a second, leading me to believe that a timid 3' 11" girl scout was standing on the porch looking to peddle some baked goods. Much to my surprise, I found two twenty-ish African-American men standing there with a clipboard. They were dressed reasonably well, but seemed out of place in my unfortunately Caucasian-dominated neighborhood. I stepped outside and greeted them, and the first thing they did was present me with an official-looking document.
My first thought was that they were presenting the deed to my family's house, proclaiming themselves as the rightful owners. Fortunately this wasn't the case. It was a peddler's license authorized by Jefferson City (or
The City of Jefferson on a formal document such a this). At this point I knew they going to try to sell me something. As a consumer, I usually take a tough stand on products that are being marketed to me. But as a human being and one who loves people, I wanted to hear them out.
*Note- anything in quotation marks is an actual quote and is not meant to be derogatory in any way.
Here is their spiel: Jack and Nigel were "independent contractors" representing KLMN Readers Services, Inc. They were "young men trying to make an honest living and achieve their dreams" by allotting enough points (earned through the sales of magazine subscriptions) to earn $1000 through this company. Jack asked me questions such as, "Do you believe that underprivileged people should be given a chance to succeed?" and "Don't you think it'd be better for the economy if... ," all of which would be answered with a "Yes," as long as you are not a
Communist dictator or a
Disney villain. This set Jack up to ask why on earth I wouldn't want to contribute to an organization that provided chances for hard-working young people to achieve their dreams?
Nigel literally said nothing the entire time.
The causes that Jack proposed sounded good and virtuous, but I'm a very tough sell. I realized that for his entire speech (it could not be considered a conversation, for he dominated the dialogue) I had been standing on the porch while Jack and Nigel had been standing on the sidewalk several feet below. This seemed wrong. Ever-so-subtle things like our change of height often convey a sense of betterment. The higher-up person literally looks down on the lower persons. This realization hit me, and I thought to myself for a moment before Jack spoke up again. I interrupted him and was pretty blunt as I sat down on the stairs and beckoned Nigel and him to sit with me. I told him that what he was saying sounded good, but he gave no outline for how this would benefit the economy or help him achieve his dreams. I didn't know him at all, much less where he was coming from.
Here's a summary of what Jack had to say: he was 20 years old, from Philadelphia, PA. He wanted to become an entrepreneur and open his won barbershop or movie theater (he listed several different things, emphasizing none in particular). His door-to-door selling helped to teach Nigel, his apprentice, basically, good business skills such as eye contact and a firm handshake (Jack wanted to shake my hand every 5 minutes or so). And if I didn't want a magazine subscription, they would send the magazines to a local Boys and Girls Club or something of the sort.
After Jack shared some of his life with me, I turned to Nigel and asked him about his. Nigel said that he is 22 years old, from Little Rock, AR, and would like to attend Business School at the University of Arkansas.
Then they took some time to hear about my school experience and what I wanted to do. I shared a goal or two with them, and all in all we talked for about twenty-five minutes. It was good.
Inevitably the sales pitch started up soon after. I was still hesitant to give them money, but I was impressed that they took the time to share some of their lives with me. I offered to pledge $20 toward a magazine subscription for a local charity. I offered them a beverage, worte a check, got a receipt, shook their hands, and watched them walk down the street.
After our exchange I felt odd. It wasn't guilt; although notoriously frugal, I heard them out and pledged to their futures. I was struck with uncertainty, fairly sure that I hadn't been swindled, but not
entirely sure. I proceeded to look up their company, KLMN Readers Services, Inc., online.
Using Google, I found no official website. In fact, the first result that appeared was an entry from a site called "Ripoff Report," dedicated to exposing scams. My uncertainty grew larger. I looked closely at the receipt Jack had given me and realized that there, in fine print, it proclaimed "We do not give magazines to charities." This was a direct contradiction to what Jack had told me. I calmly rose from my chair, grabbed my receipt, and headed down the street to discuss this with Jack.
Jack and Nigel looke worried as I approached them. I confronted them about the fine print and the claims of sending magazines to Boys and Girls Club. Jack said that they "didn't give magazines to charities, [they] give gifts to organizations," which was a drastic change in semantics from our earlier encounter. Having my doubts, I accepted this answer and made my way back up the street. On my way home, I noticed my neighbor, Mrs. V we'll call her, outside her house. She had also contributed to Jack and Nigel.
I reported my findings (or lack thereof) to Mrs. V and we pondered whether or not there was a scam afoot. She called the phone number on the receipt, which went to a generic voice instructing her to leave a message. This was predicted on the Ripoff Report entry. As Jack and Nigel made their way back up the street, Mrs. V and I summoned them and told them of our findings. Again Jack stressed
gifts in lieu of magazines to charities. I informed him of my doubts concerning KLMN's legitimacy, citing the lack of a website and a generic phone message to support my case. He insisted a website existed, and I proceeded to try every combination of "KLMN Readers Service, Inc." that I could think of, all to no avail.
Eventually Mrs. V found a
website. It offered no substantial information. In short, it is the seediest looking "official"website I have ever seen. At this point I was convinced that KLMN was not a legitimate corporation and I had major doubts about Jack and Nigel's true identities. But Mrs. V and I were straghtforward with them and did not attack them in any way.
While the whole thing appeared fraudulent, I wanted to make sure that I was loving these guys, even if they were attempting to con my neighborhood. People are meant to be loved, regardless of how they appear. Often those who are trying to hurt others are the ones who need to be loved the most. Even if KLMN was trying to con me out of some money, known or unknown by Jack and Nigel, I am called to love them.
In the end, Jack did offer my check back to me. I accepted, but afterward I realized that my worry and uncertainty wasn't about the money at all. I want honesty, truth, and peace to prevail, and I wanted those guys to know it. Hard work
will amount to something in the end, though not always in this world. Sometimes love is hard work. It needs to happen regardless of the difficulty of a situation or the hardness of one's heart. Maybe God will work in Jack's and Nigel's hearts through our interactions on Tuesday. Maybe He won't. No matter the outcome (which I will likely never know), simply giving someone the opportunity to be heard and valued is worth much, much more than time or money.
11/11/09 UPDATE: I accidentally deleted several comments I meant to publish from Sam in Tucson and a few others. Several people have received the magazines they ordered, plus some extras. There were two or three positive comments, so who knows? There were some negative comments as well, so the mystery of KLMN continues...keep commenting as you see fit. Thanks for sharing, everyone!
Cliff has transferred to Rice University in Texas, a fine academic institution from what I hear. I'm ecstatic for him. I'm very excited to hear how he does there; he's a bright guy, and he will be sorely missed by the Mizzou community. In the words of Christopher R. Castro (the sweater-wearing fellow to the right), 
I hope that Cliff "whitens the Rice" in Texas. Not in a racially discriminatory way, but in a scientifically enlightening sort of way. Yep.
