I'm no businessman
"Sir," he called, waving something dark in his right hand.
It was not a gun as far as I could tell. It was a wallet. He opened it, showing me his driver's license, his student ID, and his social security card. "My name is Gavin. My car broke down, and I'm eleven bucks short for the tow truck. "
I laughed, and then I laughed at the idea of my laughing at that. I looked down at his driver's license, then up at his face. They seemed to match.
"You can take my information. I'll send you the money."
"Where's your car?" I asked.
"It's way down that way." He pointed east.
"Then why are you standing here?"
"I needed an intersection to tell the tow truck. Please. Five dollars. Two dollars. Whatever you have."
"Let's go down and look at your car. Then I'll give you the money."
"I have to wait here for the truck."
"Okay," I said. "Can you change a twenty?"
He changed the twenty. I gave him eleven.
"Do you have a business card?" he asked.
I laughed. "I'm no businessman. Don't worry about it."
And there. Wow, did I feel good about myself (at his, well, my expense). And I got eleven bucks worth of karma. It's too bad I don't believe in karma. It's a fun idea, like self-help books or life after death, but (oh my Science!) it's bullshit.
"Thanks, man," he said, and off he walked in the opposite direction of where he was supposed to meet the truck. I let him walk. There's no use calling a guy on a scam and getting stabbed over eleven bucks. But he could have done me the courtesy of hanging around on the corner for a few minutes.
And eleven bucks is not too much to pay for something to write about.