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 something 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. I’m sorry.”
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.”
I saw 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.”
