Overheard at the Laundromat
I hate doing laundry. I really, really hate it. I have been known to fill several laundry baskets and wear shirts that haven't seen the light of day for over 5 years in order to avoid doing laundry. After tonight, I can see where this aversion comes from. But I'll save that for later. First, a little back-story.
My neighborhood is historic, urban and a little rough: a few months ago our police commissioner was propositioned by, in his words, "a well-known hooker." This was two blocks away from my house. On a Sunday afternoon. In broad daylight. So I'm not talking Wisteria Lane here. The laundromat is smack dab in the middle of this den of iniquity and, because of the constant AC and cable television, is a magnet for people who are interested in more than clean clothes. Shoplifter Pete, for example. I've seen this guy on two of my recent laundry trips. Pete is clearly a junkie; the slackened eyes and unstable gait are a giveaway. But old Pete is a smart guy. He's not going to beg for money for his next fix. He steals from the grocery store across the street then tries to sell the hot merchandise at the laundromat with a steep markup. The genius is that the stolen item is what Pete thinks you'll be interested in buying. He sizes you up, then runs over to the market and comes back. Our first meeting took me by surprise. "You wanna buy a salad?" he said, proffering a bag of wilting lettuce. "Good deal - only 5 bucks." Obviously he failed to see the half-eaten Double Bacon Cheeseburger in front of me, and does not know me well enough to understand that I am not a caesar salad kind of guy. I explained that I'd just eaten and and he stumbled away. The next time we met, he had an accomplice: an overweight woman who spent most of her time doubled-up in the parking lot inspecting the cracks in the sidewalk. Again, Pete entered, surveyed the scene and saw me buying a Dr. Pepper in the vending machine. "You like pop? I can get you a 12 pack, only 10 bucks." I was almost tempted to ask how he intended to smuggle a case of pop out of the store undetected, but I decided against extending our conversation and refused the deal. Crestfallen, Pete shuffled off to find his next customer.
Guys like Pete are a minor nuisance, but the people that really annoy me are the grifters. I'm always surprised when someone asks for money at the laundromat. I am so dependent on my debit card that I hardly carry any cash with me, so when I do those bills are going to be used for a specific purpose, say for doing laundry or going out to the bar. So no, I don't have any cash to spare, sir; I'm going to use it. To clean my clothes. Here, at the laundromat. One guy had the balls to ask me, not for spare change, but for 3 dollars. After I said no and he left, one of the other patrons turned to me and said, "What, did he think you were just sitting here for shits and giggles?" Exactly.
Tonight the con game was well played and yet more disturbing in my opinion. Usually, I try to do my laundry early in the week because there are fewer people at the laundromat and therefore the chances of claiming a table with a television are the best. It was surprisingly busy tonight, and I was just able to get the last open table in the place. Around 7:30 a pair of guys arrived, one with a big duffle bag of clothes, the other stumbling and reeking of whiskey. They put the clothes in some washers and promptly left. About 25 minutes later they came back. They had persuaded one of the other patrons, who was loading her newly cleaned clothes into her car, to follow them back into the building. One of the men feigned ignorance as to how to operate the dryers and asked her for assistance, which I found laughable since he was perfectly able to run the washers. I knew he thought this was his in, because earlier this Good Samaritan was assisting a shy Asian woman to set the dryer. Man #2, aka Whiskey Drinker, clutched a nearby washer for support. Then the conversation took a strange turn as Man #1, aka Smooth Talker, started testifying about how God was so important to him and "if I didn't have God, I don't know what I'd do with myself." Odd. Eventually the Good Samaritan departed after finding a telephone book and writing down the phone number of her church, a "good place where they don't force religion on you." After she left, this pair of godly men had a nice laugh and tossed the paper away.
I don't exactly know what they expected to get from her. Maybe it was just the satisfaction of getting away with it, with making her believe they were true believers. Later I saw them bumming cigarettes off of a bunch of guys outside. One by one, the smokers extricated themselves from the situation, remarking afterwards "those guys don't know when to shut up" and "Dude, you left me alone with them! Thanks a lot!" I realized that if I didn't make a move soon I'd be their next target out of sheer proximity, so I quickly shoved my unfolded clothes into a basket and made my escape.
My neighborhood is historic, urban and a little rough: a few months ago our police commissioner was propositioned by, in his words, "a well-known hooker." This was two blocks away from my house. On a Sunday afternoon. In broad daylight. So I'm not talking Wisteria Lane here. The laundromat is smack dab in the middle of this den of iniquity and, because of the constant AC and cable television, is a magnet for people who are interested in more than clean clothes. Shoplifter Pete, for example. I've seen this guy on two of my recent laundry trips. Pete is clearly a junkie; the slackened eyes and unstable gait are a giveaway. But old Pete is a smart guy. He's not going to beg for money for his next fix. He steals from the grocery store across the street then tries to sell the hot merchandise at the laundromat with a steep markup. The genius is that the stolen item is what Pete thinks you'll be interested in buying. He sizes you up, then runs over to the market and comes back. Our first meeting took me by surprise. "You wanna buy a salad?" he said, proffering a bag of wilting lettuce. "Good deal - only 5 bucks." Obviously he failed to see the half-eaten Double Bacon Cheeseburger in front of me, and does not know me well enough to understand that I am not a caesar salad kind of guy. I explained that I'd just eaten and and he stumbled away. The next time we met, he had an accomplice: an overweight woman who spent most of her time doubled-up in the parking lot inspecting the cracks in the sidewalk. Again, Pete entered, surveyed the scene and saw me buying a Dr. Pepper in the vending machine. "You like pop? I can get you a 12 pack, only 10 bucks." I was almost tempted to ask how he intended to smuggle a case of pop out of the store undetected, but I decided against extending our conversation and refused the deal. Crestfallen, Pete shuffled off to find his next customer.
Guys like Pete are a minor nuisance, but the people that really annoy me are the grifters. I'm always surprised when someone asks for money at the laundromat. I am so dependent on my debit card that I hardly carry any cash with me, so when I do those bills are going to be used for a specific purpose, say for doing laundry or going out to the bar. So no, I don't have any cash to spare, sir; I'm going to use it. To clean my clothes. Here, at the laundromat. One guy had the balls to ask me, not for spare change, but for 3 dollars. After I said no and he left, one of the other patrons turned to me and said, "What, did he think you were just sitting here for shits and giggles?" Exactly.
Tonight the con game was well played and yet more disturbing in my opinion. Usually, I try to do my laundry early in the week because there are fewer people at the laundromat and therefore the chances of claiming a table with a television are the best. It was surprisingly busy tonight, and I was just able to get the last open table in the place. Around 7:30 a pair of guys arrived, one with a big duffle bag of clothes, the other stumbling and reeking of whiskey. They put the clothes in some washers and promptly left. About 25 minutes later they came back. They had persuaded one of the other patrons, who was loading her newly cleaned clothes into her car, to follow them back into the building. One of the men feigned ignorance as to how to operate the dryers and asked her for assistance, which I found laughable since he was perfectly able to run the washers. I knew he thought this was his in, because earlier this Good Samaritan was assisting a shy Asian woman to set the dryer. Man #2, aka Whiskey Drinker, clutched a nearby washer for support. Then the conversation took a strange turn as Man #1, aka Smooth Talker, started testifying about how God was so important to him and "if I didn't have God, I don't know what I'd do with myself." Odd. Eventually the Good Samaritan departed after finding a telephone book and writing down the phone number of her church, a "good place where they don't force religion on you." After she left, this pair of godly men had a nice laugh and tossed the paper away.
I don't exactly know what they expected to get from her. Maybe it was just the satisfaction of getting away with it, with making her believe they were true believers. Later I saw them bumming cigarettes off of a bunch of guys outside. One by one, the smokers extricated themselves from the situation, remarking afterwards "those guys don't know when to shut up" and "Dude, you left me alone with them! Thanks a lot!" I realized that if I didn't make a move soon I'd be their next target out of sheer proximity, so I quickly shoved my unfolded clothes into a basket and made my escape.
posted by kneelw at
10:30 PM
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