Just when I thought it was safe to close the chapter on the topic of homeless mendicants in the Meadow City, I received a report that I once thought would happen only in the movies.

And though I’ve admitted in at least two previous columns that I’m one of the biggest offenders with my enabling, sympathizing, empathizing, mealy-mouthing, dollar-giving manner, it’s possible that I’ll come across today as being critical of those who camp near restaurant entrances an gas station to beg for money.

Oh yes, my files show that I’ve had many encounters with beggars at 1) a frontage road near I-25 in Albuquerque; 2) Souper Salad in Santa Fe in an encounter that I feared might lead to fisticuffs; 3) a dozen places in Las Vegas.

Here’s what happened:

My wife and I were entering a restaurant on South Grand when a man, possibly in his 30s, gave us an oh-too-smooth woeful tale of a family emergency necessitating money for gas to enable him to drive to the Mineral Hill area to fix things up.

As is my wont, I won’t refuse. I offered him five dollars before checking my resources or “tipping my hand,” which I’ve heard is a poker term in which one inadvertently lets other players see the kind of cards he’s got. I found two golden dollar coins and checked my billfold and fortunately located three one-dollar bills. I say fortunately because all the other bills were twenties, and I didn’t wish to part with them.

Meanwhile, workers at the restaurant, who’d apparently witnessed the entire transaction, talked among each other, one of them threatening to call the police. As that was happening, the mendicant found another prospect, and we all saw that person transfer a dollar to the same Mineral Hill denizen.

Amid warnings like, “If people keep giving him money, he’ll keep coming back,” we entered the restaurant and chatted for a while with the employees there. And what was the topic of conversation? Well obviously, the man who unabashedly sought money from others and us.

One of the employees, Richard, who provided only his first name, seemed to know the oh-so-smooth man. He told us of a local who showed him a wad of bills — most of them singles — that he’d collected that day, 30 or 40 dollars, and calling that day’s take “about average.” I was fascinated by Richard’s account, and I told him I’d like to write about his observations for today’s column, but all he agreed to give was his first name.

He left the restaurant long enough to discover that the Optic rack at the nearest Allsup’s store was missing. Somebody had stolen the entire rack, not just the coin box. Let’s see: at 50 cents a copy . . . I doubt the thief is now planning his or her retirement cottage on what he ripped off from the rack. But Richard said, “Notice when someone buys cigarettes or beer and pays only in quarters.”

Either the numbers of people begging for money is increasing or I’m simply becoming more observant, as one who has spent much time downtown in the 17 years I’ve worked for this newspaper. Richard told of a woman who drove to the Wal-Mart parking lot in “an almost new Jeep,” took out a “homeless” sign from the trunk and set up shop by one of the exits.

In a number of previous columns I’ve given my views on all the what-iffing I do. Isn’t it better to be conned by a dozen non-needy people than to let a single famished person go hungry?

Until last week I hadn’t thought of street-peddlers having gone high-tech. Now I’m a bit more informed. I often think of the Biblical account of the Widow’s Mite, in the Gospel of Mark, wherein the small coin an impoverished widow donates means much more than much larger amounts given by the wealthy.

The ultimate in high-tech simply has to be the account Richard gave of a recent experience with a man he tried to evade by saying he didn’t have any cash and was carrying only a debit card.
That would have been a smooth move by a man wishing to keep what is his. But the man asking for spare change was a step ahead of Richard.

To my amazement, Richard said the man who approached him explained that the card would work fine.

You see, apparently even tiny cell phones have ways to let you transfer funds from your bank to his. Richard showed me a small object with a slot through which one slides the card. There’s a simple way to connect it — about the size of a fire alarm battery.

Richard showed us the same kind of device that the restaurant stores inside the cash register. But that brings up the question: If this gentleman who’s begging for money can afford such a device, why does he need money from me?

• • •

Judy Long emailed a series of photos of actual small businesses that show creativity, if nothing else. Here are a few of the ones she sent. Some of the names — representing actual businesses — are obvious; others might keep you wondering. See if you can determine the kind of business these names would represent:

• Bread Pitt
• Thai Tanic
• Lord of the Rinse
• Life of Pie
• Pita Pan
• Back of the Fuchsia
• The Codfather
• Iron Maiden
• Lord of the Wings
• Florist Gump
• Pho Real
• Bread Zeppelin
• Sew it Seams
• British Hairways
• Indiana Jeans
• Jabba the Cutt
• Kung Food
• Eye Caramba
• Spex in the City