My spring semester was winding down and I was on the way from class to work when, as I was looking down to check my phone, a passerby and I bumped into each other. Things like that happen so often in New York that I hardly thought twice about it. I noticed the man had dropped some thing and was hovering above it when I turned around to offer an apology. I turned back around and continued walking my route when a story I had heard a few weeks earlier crept into my head. A friend of mine had been walking in Union Square when a man bumped into him and accused him of breaking a brand new pair of glasses. My friend had reluctantly shelled out $20, knowing he was being grifted, but feeling powerless with no proof. There’s no way, I thought, as I turned around to see the man hurrying his pace to catch up with me.
My head jerked forward. It was the same guy; I had him and I knew his dirty little game before he even said a word. I felt vindicated. I held all the cards and I knew it.
This guy expected a meek college student, but instead he was going to get the coldest, most uncaring kid he had ever run into. I was going to milk this for all it was worth.
“Hey man, we got a problem,” His introduction was a threat wrapped in an almost jovial tone. My brain did the quick math to figure out how much danger I actually faced. He was shorter than me, an accomplishment not many can claim, but did that mean that if it came down to a physical altercation I would win? I decided to risk it—if he were actually tough, wouldn’t he be mugging people instead of trying to con them.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked. “You broke my glasses!” He showed me the scratched pair. The lenses were completely destroyed. If I hadn’t known exactly how this was going to play out I probably would have felt guilty enough to toss him a few bucks.
“I’m sorry man, that’s a real shame,” I said, not breaking stride.
“You’re sorry?” He wasn’t expecting much resistance. “That’s pretty cold, man. Do you know how much lenses cost?” I shrugged. “I don’t see how that’s my problem. ” This went on for about two blocks before he finally put out his hand to stop me from walking. He must have decided it was time to get tough. “Well I can’t just accept ‘I’m sorry.’” I had enough of the game. “So, let me get this straight: you just happened to be carrying your glasses in your hand when you bumped into me?” “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
There was no going back now. “There’s no problem, except that this same exact thing happened to a friend of mine just a few weeks ago.”
It finally hit him. “Hey man, I don’t know who did that to your friend, but I don’t like being lumped in with other people.” He started to ramble excuses and justifications, hoping that if he said enough words as quickly as possible I would forget the fact that I caught him. “You telling me someone else scammed your friend is like sayin’ that someone is cutting down trees in the rain forest! It’s a shame, but it’s got nothing to do with me! My lenses just cost a lot of money and you broke ‘em so it’s only right if…” “It’s not gonna work!” I yelled, hoping that enough people on the street would stop and look to call someone if he didn’t take rejection lightly.
“Whatever man,” he said with a sigh, “I believe in karma.”
