Once or twice a week I stop at either Dunkin Donuts for a large iced coffee, or I grab one of the various pre-packaged Starbucks caffeine vehicles in the cafe on my way across campus. I don’t think about it much — I’m sort of a black hole with money, particularly what I think of as “incidentals”. I’m pretty sure if I stopped and looked, I’d discover that my incidentals budget is the size of a small country. I’m vowing that this is the month I start to look.
Because, today, my phone’s ringing. It’s a number I don’t recognize, one that’s rung through a few times this week, and my phone tells me it’s in LA. I don’t know anyone in LA. So it’s … something automated. In any case, today I answered it instead of ignoring it.
It was MSF. If there’s anyone who can call me and ask for money and not irritate me, it’s Doctors Without Borders. Those people are heroes. I give them a couple hundred dollars a year, in monthly installments, and have for years. And every now and again they call and ask for a one-time donation for a project, or for an increase in my monthly gift. And I always, always, always say yes.
Because… well. They have the sucker punch of telling me about “refugees from Somalia… children facing malnutrition… outbreak of cholera…” and then asking, “can you give an additional $5 a month?” as I look at 3 dollars in snacks on my desk this afternoon… Yes. Here. $5 more a month is fine. I have to stop myself from babbling. “Also, take my car. Would a cat help? How about some cute shoes? I have a lot of those.”
And she closed the call with “bless you, dear. Thank you.” Jesus. DON’T THANK ME I’M A TERRIBLE FIRST WORLD AMERICAN DRINKING STUPID COFFEE DRINKS AND PEOPLE ARE DYING GAH.