|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
One cripple sprawled himself at the steps of Orchard Towers, the building infamous for having “four floors of whores” - or “five floors of whores” counting the basement level.
It’s nearly 3 am, closing time for the discos inside. More than a thousand people are streaming out, people with money.
The men, mostly white-skinned foreigners plus a few locals, had been drinking all night and are about to spend a couple more hundred dollars for one night’s company of a hooker.
The girls might have been driven by poverty into the profession. Still, they can be considered relatively rich. In one evening, they stand to earn more than what they could earn in a month back home in Thailand, the Philippines, Vietnam and China.
Tens of thousands of dollars are about to change hands. Surely the people involved in these transactions could spare some loose change?
Lottery
The cripple is not even begging. He is selling lottery tickets - $2 for a chance to be a millionaire 1.5 times over. Surely hookers and clients alike would not mind buying a ticket or five, even if they did not really believe they would win?
Surely they would buy just to have pity on him. He was indeed a sorry sight, with his clutches spread out before him, his clothes dirty, misery written all over his face.
The cripple had picked the right place and the right time. Or so he thought.
But maybe not. Hundreds of people walked pass without even casting a glance at him. For more than 20 minutes, as I stood there watching, not a single person stopped to buy a ticket or to give him money. Hundreds of opportunities just went by.
Finally one person stopped to buy a few tickets. Then another couple of hundred ignored him before yet another stopped. I watched until the crowd thinned out, for about 45 minutes. In that time, I counted no more than five people who had bought lottery tickets from him. His commission from the sale of tickets could not have been more than a couple of dollars.
Perhaps the people were too preoccupied with the pleasure - or is it the business? - that awaited.
Perhaps they were immune to the sight of the cripple, who must have been there on other nights as well. The ladies, certainly, would have seen lots more beggars back home.
Perhaps the men felt uncomfortable to be reminded of poverty just as they are about to spend good money on, at most, a few hours of pleasure. Avoidance is one way to deal with discomfort.
Second cripple
Perhaps there is yet another reason: “competition”!
Inside the building is another cripple who is quite a contrast to the one outside. He sits in a wheel chair, he wears a nice clean shirt - and a perpetual smile on his face. He greets the people who walk by, occasionally he chats with those who are familiar. Since he is there every weekend, the regulars know him well.
He sells flowers - single stalks of roses nicely wrapped in aluminium foil and plastic, which the men would buy for the ladies they fancy.
From the number of ladies carrying stalks of roses - not a lot, but at least a good number - you can see that he enjoys fairly good business. He has more sales, and he earns more profit per sale, than the cripple outside with the lottery tickets.
Even when he does not get business, at least he gets a warm smile, or a wave, from the people entering and leaving the discos.
This cripple has chosen the right place, the right time and the right approach. Instead of looking miserable and pitiful, he smiles and puts on a happy face.
It made all the difference. He is never ignored.
Afterword
Years later, I go back to Orchard Towers and the cripple selling flowers is still there but I no longer see the one selling lottery tickets. I hope he is well.