Welcome to Womp City.

An Open Letter to “Children International”

Dear Unassuming Charming Young Person with a Clipboard,

Well, the thermometer has jumped above 65 degrees for a couple of weeks and finals are over, so I guess it’s your time to shine.  You saw that Craig’s List ad boasting “$1500-2000” a month for an “outgoing” and “personable” type who wants to “help others” and “spend time outside” and here you are, working your dream job.  So, you didn’t get to be an apprentice at Williamstown.  At least you’re outside!

I’ll admit, I was fooled by your eye contact and the way you acted like you already knew me from somewhere else.  You knew from my frumpy business casual get-up and post-lunch slouch-shuffle that I’m desperate for human interaction between the hours of 8:30-5 Monday-Friday.  And it worked. 

What was worse was you noticed the hickey on my neck and somehow made me feel like I had to hear you out.  Like, okay you know that someone put their mouth on my neck last night and now you’re going to street-shame me into hearing your two minute pitch.  Did they teach you to look for embarrassing physical attributes in your training, or is that your personal technique?  If I hadn’t had a hickey, would you have been like “Hey Big Teeth, do you have a minute for children’s rights?”  And you know, it would have worked.  Shame on you.  Shame on us both.

So, I listened.  You told me about how children around the world and even in our own country are going without proper nutrition, medical care, and education.  And I felt terrible.  And then you asked me a series of questions which set me up to feel like a monster if I said no: “Do you think all children should have access to clean water?” “If you could, would you want to help a child get an education instead of serving as cannon fodder?” “Kids with AIDS need help, right?”

And then you asked me to give you my credit card information on the street.  And the this is where the game changed entirely.

Of course I want children around the world to live safe lives.  But NO, I will not give you my credit card information in the middle of 34th street because you’re making me feel guiltier than when I watch those abused pet commercials with Wendy Malick and the Sarah McLaughlin song.  The last time I gave someone my information in person (which I guess is an “insecure connection”) this happened.  So, don’t treat me like I’m THE WORST PERSON EVER because I’m not signing up on the street.

Street-shame me once, shame on you.  Street-shame me twice, just stop shaming me, I only get a half-hour for lunch!  You can try and work your musical theatre black magic all you want, but just know it won’t work on me - I can sound really “sincere” too, so can it.  You’re not getting my information!

There are plenty of amazing charities out there who are fighting for amnesty and international rights for women and children.  They go on Oprah (RIP).  They host fun-runs.  They have user-friendly websites.  You know what they don’t do?  Have attractive musical-theatre students on their summer break run me into the street on my lunch in an attempt to guilt me out of my credit card number.

So, best of luck to you, Children International Goon.  Please try not to take it personally if I firmly state “GET IT AWAY FROM ME” when you approach.