Boondocks Jingles and Winn Dixie

A day in the life of a homeless good fellow. As the day progresses his experiences become somewhat fortunate. 

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I frequent dark alleys, empty railroad yards, abandoned buildings, park benches and at times local jails. My only companion is my reflection in storefront windows when I pass. Occasionally it surprises me showing up in the duck pond at the local park. Pigeons no longer gather around me for crumbs of bread or stale popcorn. Those rats with wings finally realized I don't have anything to offer and now ignore me, which works out just dandy. I despise those filthy, lazy, annoying birds. A short time back there was a stray dog that took to me. The reason he befriended me, I believe, was because he saw me as an easy mark, which I probably am. I must've picked a couple hundred ticks off of his body. He was welcomed company for the few weeks we spent together as pals. I named him Boondocks for some unknown reason, he appeared to like it. He would enthusiastically scamper up to me, his tail wagging whenever I called for him. He looked to be part Labrador and some type of Shepherd mix. A midsized dog that growled when he felt threatened. I never heard him bark the entire time we were together. I knew him to be an affectionate and loving dog. I threw balls for him that he'd find near the tennis courts on the far side of the park. He let me believe I'd taught him to retrieve when actually it was him who taught me to throw the ball. He would sleep with his head on my chest and had an appetite like a grizzly bear. I never seemed to have enough food for the both of us. And I could see the disappointment in his pathetic brown eyes, staring at me, attempting to make me feel guilty. The day finally arrived when he no longer returned when I called for him. I was somewhat saddened by his departure. I even went to the Doggy Detention Center to investigate if maybe he'd been arrested but I didn't find him there. Then a month or so later I spotted him in the park. He looked clean and his coffee colored coat shimmered in the sunlight. His hair was brushed and no longer tangled and matted. He appeared to have gained some needed weight as well. He was accessorized with a bright red collar and a matching red leash complimenting his brown fur. Daphne, a hooker I've known for a couple of years, was walking him. There he was, acting as though he didn't know who I was, completely ignoring me. He pranced on by as though he was an AKC Registered Purebred canine. I understood his reason for abandoning me. There were no hard feelings about his decision, he traded up. He made the right move. I was on my own once again which I preferred over having the responsibility of caring for someone else, even if it's just a dog. I don't have any complaints concerning this lifestyle I've subjected myself to. You know what? I find the word lifestyle somewhat out of context when describing my present resident status. Trust me, there isn't any style associated with this type of life. Come to think about it, I can't remember a time when things were different, or know how I got where I am now. There's one stumbling block I can't seem to overcome, begging for spare change is a challenge for me. It's not because I'm too proud or embarrassed, I'm just no damn good at it. I don't have any talent for what it takes to be a successful beggar. Most folks attempt to avoid me. They walk around me like I'm dog shit on the sidewalk. There are others that act as though I'm a con man trying to bilk them out of a fuckin quarter. My delivery doesn't seem to be convincing or I don't appear to be needy. Then there's those that go out of their way to humiliate me, screaming insults as they pass by. "Get a job you fucking bum." " Piece of shit drug addict alcoholic, I'm not gonna support your habit." " Why don't you just kill yourself? The world will be a better place without you." You get the picture. There was a time when I took offense to assholes bad mouthing me. Over time I found that ignoring their derogatory comments and instead thanking them for their suggestions worked wonders. Although my comment seemed to infuriate some. Then I'd use the magic phrase, sure to defuse their anger . "God Bless You" I'd reply with a sincere expression. It worked most of the time but occasionally there'd be a response of "Go fuck yourself!" But it wasn't often. There was a guy called Jingles who I asked to teach me the "ins and outs" of the panhandling profession. He was a tall lean fellow with a southern accent. His sense of humor was always prevalent, I'm not sure I ever saw him in any other mood. Most everyone looked up to Jingles; he had that kind of leadership quality about him. Also, he had a striking resemblance to Clint Eastwood and carried himself in the same manner. Jingles was a professional panhandler that never seemed to be unsuccessful. Every time I'd see him, he'd have his left hand in his pocket jingling change signaling he had a profitable day. For all I knew it could have been a bunch of slugs or washers, I never saw the coins. The nickname Jingles I assumed was given to him because of the sound change made in his pocket, But that would be too obvious, making his moniker uninteresting without any real story behind it. Someone mentioned he was once a Lieutenant in the Salvation Army and during the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holiday Seasons he stood outside Shopping Malls or major Department Stores, ringing a bell or shaking a string of Jingle Bells. He collected donations from shoppers with a big red bucket. And that's how he got the name Jingles. I was curious why he wasn't with the Christian Army any longer. The story surrounding his dishonorable discharge changed somewhat depending on who was telling the story. Basically, he had helped himself to a large sum of the donated cash. He skipped town, borrowing the Director's car and taking his nineteen year old daughter as well. They were arrested about a week or so later in Adams- Friendship, Wisconsin. This part of the story confuses me somewhat. Now, if you had just robbed a few thousand dollars and had a young blonde bombshell as company, why the hell of all places would you choose Adams-Friendship, Wisconsin? What was equally surprising, is the Director of the local chapter, refused to press charges. Seems he didn't want his daughter to be put through the embarrassment of a trial. Also they thought the publicity would hurt the local chapter of the Salvation Army. So Jingles ended up only doing three months in the county lock up. Adams-Friendship, Wisconsin, really? I asked if I could partner up with him the next day for some on the job training. He agreed but with the conditions that I didn't tell anyone and he got twenty-five percent of my take. He showed up at my camp around 7:30 in the morning, which I thought was early to begin training in "The Art of Panhandling." As we began to leave he stopped me with his hand pushing against my chest. He started in on me about my clothes. "You're dressed too Damn pretty. You got any other clothes that don't make you look like a Used Car Salesman? Maybe a shirt that is dirty or torn and a pair of pants don't fit good? That maybe are a little too big for ya?" He asked in a disgusted tone. "Damn Jingles, if I knew we had to have uniforms, I would have been prepared but you never mentioned it." " Doesn't it make sense to you that people aren't gonna give money to a guy wearing Docker slacks and a shirt from Old Navy. And Jesus Christ, look at your shoes, polished with matching shoelaces. What the hell kinda shoes are those?" " Allen Edmonds shoes." I confessed. " So you're homeless but you get dressed up everyday to hang in the park? You think someone is gonna come around and offer you work? Thinking you might be asked to a job interview? Oh, Jesus Christ, you're wearing socks. You're dressed to fancy to be on the cover of Tramps & Bums Magazine?" He hollers sarcastically. "Hey, you didn't give me an employee's handbook or instructions on what I should wear. Is there anything else I should know?" "Yes there is! What's your disability? You know, a physical handicap." " I'm deaf in my right ear, my vision is impaired and I've been diagnosed with BiPolar Disorder." " No! I mean a prop for the Con, like a broken arm In a sling, a foot injury walking with crutches. People are more sympathetic when they see a homeless guy with an injury. You notice the sling I always have with me? It's my prop I use to help folks feel better about giving." It was fine with me that he wanted twenty-five percent of my take. I didn't expect to be successful on my first day of training. but damn, I didn't know he'd be so hard on me. " So where are we headed Professor?" "We're going to the Winn-Dixie parking lot. It's Saturday morning and most housewives do their weekly food shopping on Saturday. Why would that statement be true Mr. Ivy League?" "Because their husbands get paid on Fridays and they want to get groceries before their husband blows the money at the track or the casino. He might spend it on new tires for his car, or maybe he buys new fishing gear or maybe…," Jingles interrupts. " Okay, okay, Mr. Quiz Show contestant, you get a Gold Star. You like to hear yourself talk, don't cha?'" " Just answering your question boss." The Winn-Dixie parking lot was close to full with Minivans and Station Wagons. The area bustled with the activity of suburban housewives heading to the entrance with kids in tow as well as some exiting with shopping carts full of next week's menu items. "Now you can pick out the ones with a lot of groceries and ask if they need help. Most of the time it involves a generous tip and maybe a piece of fruit. I don't go in for that kind of stuff, it's too much like work." "What if you're asked to help? Do you say no?" "Are you retarded or just playing dumb? You smile and give an enthusiastic yes. If they ask, there's surely a generous tip involved." "Now listen, this is important. If you ask for some change and the person is on their way into the store, they usually answer, "I don't have any change right now, catch me on the way out." You remember that face and what they are wearing and don't forget to watch for them. When they come out, approach them while smiling, maybe with your hand out. Then immediately say, "I really appreciate your help. Thanks for your generosity." They can't refuse you if they gave you their word. Works every time." The day becomes progressively better and profitable, now that I've been tutored on how to start your introduction. The phrase ,"Do you have any spare change?" Is much too direct and crass lacking a show of manners. Jingles created what he called the "pitch". "Excuse me, is it possible to help me out with a small amount of loose change, please?" Said with a half grin, in a quiet voice as if you're embarrassed. It's much more polite. I worked the housewives like a vacuum cleaner salesman and loaded quite a bit of groceries into vehicles. And just like Jingles said, I was raking in the Cash. My pocket was full and somewhat heavy from the change. I also received my share of apples, peaches and bananas. I was getting ready to take a break to enjoy an orange when a good looking, well dressed woman called to get my attention." "Excuse me fella, are you available to help with my groceries? Seems I've bought more than I'm able to wrangle to my truck." She pleaded. " Sure I'd be happy to give you a hand." "Thanks, you're an angel. I don't understand why they don't have a lot boy available from the Winn Dixie to help." She did purchase an abundance of items filling two carts and even with the bottom racks loaded with cases of soda and beer. There were bottles of different kinds of alcohol. Barbecue Briquettes and a bag overflowing with chicken and different types of beef cuts. I grabbed both the shopping carts and followed her to a Dodge Pickup Truck. "You can put the groceries in the truck bed here in back." " Ok but they might slide around. You've got quite a load here. You should've brought some help." "No one was available. Funny how that happens when you need a helping hand." "Have you got any rope so I can tie this in?" She opens the workbox and pulls out a bunch of bungee cords. I secure the load. She opens her purse and I can see in her wallet a large amount of bills. "You know what? I don't have any small denomination of bills." "It's okay, just some change will be fine." I mention. "I'll tell you what . Would you be able to come with me to help bring the groceries into my house? And if possible could you give me a hand setting up for the Barbeque I'm hosting this afternoon? My son was going to help me out but it seems his girlfriend wanted him to take her to the beach. I will pay you well and give you Cab Fare back. You seem to be a good guy." " I am a good guy. Sure I'd be happy to help. Just let me tell my buddy what's up and I'll be right back." "Great, I really appreciate your help. What's your name?" "Santiago" I hollered while running to find Jingles. I found Jingles at the entrance to the Winn Dixie, with a guy who had a name tag that said, Store Manager. The manager is yelling at him about panhandling in the parking lot, really giving it to Jingles. He just stood there not saying a word. I wasn't sure what Jingle's anger threshold was, so I whispered to him from behind. "Take it easy, Jingles he's not worth it. Don't let him get to you." " Don't worry, it's not bothering me in the slightest. Better to just let him blow off some steam. Lesson number 7." " Hey you, do you hear what I'm saying? I don't want you around here harassing our customers. Do you understand?" The manager hollered. A large crowd of shoppers had gathered, interested in what was going on. They had formed a semi-circle around Jingles and the Manager. Then one speaks up to voice her opinion. " You know Ken, ( manager ) you don't have anybody out here to help us with our groceries. We have to struggle with the shopping carts and bags ourselves. It would be nice to have someone help load the groceries into our cars. You should hire these men to assist customers. I think it would be a wonderful courtesy for Winn Dixie to offer." Ken the manager thinks for a few seconds, he rubs his head then puts his hand to his chin. "You know Natalie, that's a great idea, I should have thought of it myself. What do you say fella? Would you be interested in working here on weekends, helping customers with their groceries? We can discuss your pay later. So what do you think?" He asks Jingles. " No, I wouldn't be interested. I don't work for anyone but myself. But I'll tell you what, me and my well dressed partner here will come by Friday afternoons, Saturday and Sunday mornings and offer our services to your shoppers for whatever they care to pay. How does that sound Mr. Ken?" The shoppers begin applauding and giggling, some shake Ken's and Jingle's hand. Ken leans over and I hear him whisper to Jingles, " Please don't let me down. These gals will never let me hear the end of it if you don't show up." "You can bank on it. We'll be here next weekend, I give my word." They shake hands as though they've been friends for years. Jingles begins introducing himself to the gals and they smile while waving farewell. "That Jingles guy is kinda cute. Looks like Clint Eastwood, don't you think?" I hear a woman say to another. " Now what the hell is going on with you Rookie?" " I've been asked to help a woman with her groceries at her house. She has quite a load and can use the help setting up for a Barbecue and she's going to pay cab fare back to boot! Just wanted to let you know." "Just looking for trouble aren't you. Go ahead and be careful. And have my share for me tomorrow. Don't short change me either!" "Okay see ya later at my camp, I'll have your cash." I began jogging back to where the Pickup was parked. Then from behind me someone beeped their horn. Without turning around I moved to the side to make room for the vehicle, waving my hand above my head, signaling for the driver to pass. Instead, they beeped the horn a couple of more times and didn't move ahead but drove slowly behind me. I became a bit irritated with the driver's actions and turned around to address their rude behavior. " Hey fella, you looking for a good time?" It was my boss for the afternoon. She was laughing and for some reason looked much more appealing than she appeared before. I tried to look upset but I couldn't pull it off and she drove up to me giggling. "Everything okay with your buddy, Santiago?" " We're good to go. What's your name?" I ask while getting into the truck. "Allison, my great aunt's name." " I like it. It fits you. Let's giddy up, Allison." She flashes a huge smile, puts the pickup in gear and we're on our way. End part 1

By Judge Santiago Burdon

From: Costa Rica