Aurini

I’d like to tell you all a story. Once upon a time I was working for a charity – a major charity – going door-to-door to raise money while pretending it wasn’t sales. This story happened on my last day working there. I didn’t know that at the time; I wouldn’t find out until the following morning when my boss called me up to fire me, but I knew it was coming. For weeks I’d been fed up with the job, milking it for the last few dollars I could pull out, hating every minute of it but needing the money. The Sudden Career Readjustment would come as a relief. So on that day, my last day, I was moving slowly. I knocked on one particular door and there was no response. I had little desire to walk to the next one, however, and there was an interesting spider who’d built its web below the doorbell. I tapped its belly with the tip of my pen, and it reacted with aggression – trying to envenom and ensnare the tip of my ballpoint. I must have been playing with it for a good minute or so when the door suddenly opened. A distraught woman stood before me. After a brief period of Relating I launched into my pitch.“So you’re probably wondering why there’s a bald weirdo at your door? Actually I’m just coming around with Major Charity1 on an emergency campaign. You’ve heard of us, right? Brilliant! So obviously you’ve thought of getting involved, right? That’s awesome! You see, the reason I’m coming around is for these guys – some of our emergency cases...”2 I handed her the pictures of the Developing World Children (yeah, it was one of those charities). She took them, a wistful look on her face. “Oh God, don’t show me these. I’m such a Rescuer.” “Rescuer? Do you have a Rescue Dog?” [Where I’m from, abused animals brought into a new home are called ‘Rescue Dogs’.] “No, I...” “You mean your personality? You care about people, don’t you?” She nodded slowly. Her face began to crumble. “I’m sorry – I can’t look at these children,” she handed back the photographs