Hustling

Monday night was particularly quite in the big end of town due to the bank holiday. So it was a nice surprise to score a passenger who, after working all day for an international bank, decided they could pay me whilst she did her weekly shopping on the way home.

For twenty minutes I waited outside the enormous World Square complex on George Street watching the evening hustle, comprising mainly young people of Asian heritage. The cinema and Haymarket district is not a normal haunt of mine and made for a refreshing change of scene instead of the usual Monday night monotone of the business area.

Whilst leaning on the cab having a smoke I noticed a hustler accosting the passing pedestrian crowd. He was an aboriginal around 25 years of age and presented as the typical grifter found around Central station. The sort of dubious looking character with whom eye contact is to be avoided at all costs.

His hair was rough chopped with short dread locks and he wore the ubiquitous polyester tracksuit, carelessly dragging the jacket along the ground. The crowning feature was his crude prison tattoos around the neck, high above the collar line.

Only targeting Caucasians males he would fall in beside them saying, "Hey bro ! Just need a word; no need to stop; I won’t hold you up...", and away he’d go, talking like a thrashing machine and gesticulating like they were old friends.

And invariably, within ten to twenty metres they would be reaching for some spare change, anything to be rid of him. How could they resist his disarmingly friendly, happy spiel, although he was clearly wired to the back teeth, most likely on amphetamines.

Finally on his next pass I called him over. "Hey mate, how much you make doing that ? I bet it’s a lot more than cabbies earn," I laughed." "Shit bro, I make enough, you know ?" "I bet you make more than washing windows at the intersections, no ?" "Dat’s it bro, I make five, six times more than dem dudes." There was no reason to doubt him as, from what I’d seen, his hit rate was about one donation per minute. He was that good, probably taking over fifty bucks per hour.

"But washing windows ain’t my thing, you know," he continued. "Or like those dudes sitting around like bums expecting change. I respect people and don’t fuck them around, do it quick, like. Give ‘em good vibes, crack a joke, laugh, smile, that’s the way to do it, bro." All the while his eyes were darting from one pedestrian to the next, assessing likely candidates. Then spotting a passing target he took off, calling back to me, "I’m just a crazy, happy nigga, man !"

This was his business and he wasn’t going to be held up by a cabbie wasting time. Though what really bemused me was that he never took the opportunity to put the bite on me for spare change, as with those window washers who ignore cabs at intersections. In fact, I didn’t know whether to be glad or offended by that.

Comments

[steve at the pub]

That bank holiday is a trap, an unknown concept here. Was once in NSW & had to go to a bank for something. It was a business day, but the automatic doors wouldn't open into the bank, it was black inside, seemed to be closed.

Everything else but the bank was open and trading, so I knew I hadn't struck a public holiday.

People walking past glanced furtively at me, as if expecting the bank to be open was abnormal behaviour.

Eventually I asked the most sedate & friendly looking little old lady was "everything ok" with the bank, she replied in the affirmative. When I didn't seem satisfied with her answer she explained that today was "bank holiday you know".

I didn't know and said so, she stepped back a couple of paces, as if I had somehow exhibited outward signs of weirdness, and giving me a funny look she rejoined the passing throng.

I had to ask about 10 people before I got any sense for an answer.

The actual explanation came from the last person I asked, an owner-operator newsagent.

In the sophistcated city, it is amazing how many people, though knowing full well the answer, are incapable of expressing a comprehensible reply to as simple a question as "Why are the banks closed?"

[Lee]

Hi, Adrian...I've not been in for a while...sorry.

I think you should class yourself as being fortunate (not because I've not been in for a while!)but because he didn't hit you for a few dollars.

[Anthony]

You only need to worry if he slings you a couple of bucks, "Get yourself something to eat, bro'"