The “Do you have a moment for Greenpeace?” people are the bane of my existence. Maybe this is a Toronto thing, so allow me to fill in my American friends. In the last few years we’ve witnessed the rise of street corner canvassing. Fresh-faced young people stand on the sidewalk in heavily-traveled areas and hold up binders that advertise their cause: The Hospital for Sick Children, UNICEF, Greenpeace.
“Do you have a moment for Sick Kids?” they ask. On an individual basis, I feel sorry for them, I really do. I am sure they are earnest and idealistic university students triple majoring in environmental studies, international relations, and women’s studies. I am sure they are buried in a mountain of student debt and they’re just trying to earn enough to pay for their grande lattes without having to work for The Man.
It’s an ironic twist that the public street corner is the last bastion of privacy in this crazy modern world. They call you at home, they send you spam, they come to your door. But is that enough? No, more is required of you. Now they must invade the last fortress of solitude you have, and that’s walking down the street minding your own business—thinking great thoughts perhaps, or maybe just making a mental grocery list. What happened to urban anomie? Don’t talk to me! Can’t you see I’m alienated and irritable?
Here’s how it works. They see you coming and you see them. You used to be able to kind of cut a wide loop and if the sidewalk was busy enough you could slip past them. But now they’re deployed in pairs so you have to pass between them, run a gauntlet of do-gooders. You look away until you’re right upon them, because you’re a nice girl and you were raised to acknowledge people’s existence. So you make eye contact. And then they say it.
“Do you have a moment for Sick Kids?”
You can try to say, “No. I have several charities I give to each year and though I am sure you do noble things, you are not one of them. I actually prefer to give my money to modern dance troupes, because I think art gives us meaning and anchors us and makes us more human—and even dancers have to eat. And since we live in a country of socialized medicine, shouldn’t the government really be paying for hospitals?” But that’s kind of a mouthful.
You can try to say, “I might if every third person I know wasn’t running / walking / biking / hopping / competitive eating for HIV / cancer / literacy /obsessive compulsive disorder and in need of my immediate and generous sponsorship.”
So I’ve decided the best answer is just plain old no.
“Do you have a moment for Sick Kids?”
“No. No, I do not. I am very busy and very important so I do not have even a single moment for Sick Kids.”