Life on the ‘Nade: The Hecklers
By Lauren - Wednesday April 12th 2006 |
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Welcome to “Life on the ‘Nade,” a series of observations made as an employee at a fine retail establishment on the Third Street Promenade. Today’s journey of self-actualization and life-affirming change covers the blue-collar panhandlers who work the ‘Nade, people whom I affectionately call “The Hecklers.”
1. The Bucket Kids: As endearing as little kids in big sweatshirts are, I’ve ultimately determined their collection antics to be somewhat frightening. Bouncing around at the corner of Broadway and 3rd, the Bucket Kids have an operational style that would make the military cream their pants. Strategically scattered throughout the first block of the ‘Nade, the Bucket Kids manage to step in front of the path of nearly every pedestrian, shaking their white buckets and asking for any change to help such-and-such-fundraiser-for-kids. At first, I was impressed by their perseverance (and their consistent “God Bless You” to the brush-offs). But when I saw the Colonel strolling nonchalantly by the topiary dinosaurs, offering new methods of attack and pointing out veritable goldmines, I realized that the Bucket Kids are pint-sized soldiers in Operation Spare Change.
2. The Do-Gooders: These seasonal gems (you won’t find them in the rain) change their causes with the wind (or with whatever bill/amendment/levy happens to be on the table at the time). With their clipboards and chipper demeanor, they seem to only want to help our fair city, but be warned; for their perk turns to smug if you blow them off. Consider them the ‘Nade’s answer to the LaRouche cats who work the corners at the USC campus. If you catch them early on, they might even share a laugh with you (those silly Repubs!) but as the day wears on, you’ll find the Do-Gooders losing their steam. They should definitely take notes from the Bucket Kids…or at least pick up a Red Bull from Famima!!
And finally, my personal favorite:
3. The God Peddlers: This particular breed of Heckler is as highly potent as Kirk Franklin’s hit “Stomp” was inspirational. Your typical God Peddler consists of a timid Gen Y-er dressed in tapered jeans, a windbreaker and a fanny pack. Don’t be thrown off, sometimes they have glasses. But they always, ALWAYS, have a laminated index card with 5-10 questions about Jesus. They approach quietly, but don’t mistake their hesitation for insecurity, because before you know it, they’ve placed a slight hand on your arm, looked into your heathen eyes, and made their pitch. “Are you interested in any of these questions?” Politeness does not work with the God Peddlers; neither does a side step. The only successful deterrent I’ve found is faking a phone call. But some days my defense is lax. On those days, I wince as the aforementioned question of doom escapes from their pale lips. On those days, I want to respond, “No, but I am interested in why you don’t recognize me as the same girl in the red jacket you approach every single day and who every single day says ‘no.’ And I’d actually be even more interested in learning how to avoid the swarming little kids with buckets by Broadway.”
Stay tuned for the next thrilling expose, as I examine the splendor of the ‘Nade’s gift to the world of entertainment- The Show People.
I LOVE the LaRouche people…they so shamelessly plug their extreme hatred of the Bush admin with hilarious signs, and pass out those mini-magazines with a smile that says “we think people take us seriously…honestly!” My only beef is when they stand in the middle of the sidewalk that sees half of the students riding their bikes; I’ve seen some horiffic (i.e. even more hilarious) bike crashes.
I love that you did this. I’ve always wondered about these people in a please-tell-me-about-your-cause-but-from-10-feet-away kind of way.
The God peddlers with the cards are part of Reverend Sun Un Moon’s Gnostic sex cult. They have an office near the parking structure. Stay away, they are dangerous.
The LaRouche people are great. I love talking to these guys. Seriously, they are the funniest, and most intelligent people out there.
i wonder how much bucket kids make
Funniest damn thing I’ve read in ages. I’ve been checking my RSS Reader all day, looking for the next installment. Great job.
Fear not, the next installment is in the works. I’ve got some great pics of Ol’ Yeller (who can currently be seen on the corner of 3rd and Santa Monica). Also, the best thing I’ve ever heard the LaRouche people say is “if you vote for Bush, your bicycles will have square wheels!” Keep your eyes peeled, ladies and gents.
Great article. I used do what ever I could to dodge the hecklers – head fakes, cut backs, spin moves, you name it. Except the guy handing out Jack Chick comics; even though he was a “god peddler”, I found the comics darkly humorous. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a market for them on eBay.
Anyway, an acquaintance of mine devised an effective strategy for dealing with the hecklers. Whenever one would approach she would hold her arms in front of her like she was carrying something and shout, “HANDS FULL!” They would be caught so off guard that they would back off and move on to the next mark. It was like heckler repellent.
“Hands Full” … not bad. I sometimes find a simple “I don’t speak English” to be be effective.
I tend to avoid them by walking up quickly behind the person in front of me. Between the pitch and the other person’s refusual, I’m already in front of them.
as someone who also works on the ‘Nade’, i’ve had more than my fair share of hecklers, especially the god peddler, who seem to forget i said ‘not interested’ ten mintues ago. once, walking the one block between broadway and santa monica, 3 peddlers hit me up. as the 4th began to come toward me, i feigned horror and ran away from her and into borders. proud of my devious deed, i turned around, only to see her running into borders after me w/ her card sticking out and shouting if i was interested in any of the questions.
You’ve just given me an idea for when I return to L.A. in a couple of weeks: when approached by a god peddler who shoves a card in my face, I will ask for a big bunch of extra cards for all of my “friends”, and then, with a pious smile, dump them in the nearest trashcan. Repeat as necessary until said peddler recognizes me. That should be ample motivation for remembering my face, and getting my crystal clear message.