Katie and I enjoy our new neighborhood because it offers stark cultural and economic contrasts within the span of only a few blocks. I like to tell people that no matter which direction you walk, you'll be asked for money. If you walk down the hill to Haight Street, you'll be asked to finance some food, alcohol or more elicit fare. If you walk up the hill to Cole Valley, you'll be asked to support some form of political or charitable activism... either way, the various denizens of the neighborhood are not afraid to ask for the sale.
The other day I turned the corner at Haight and Masonic on the Southwest side if the intersection, as I've done many times to make the final push up the hill toward home. As to be expected, I was asked for money by one of the youth that invariably sits below a graffiti mural on the Masonic side of the corner. Normally I don't give these kids' requests a second thought. I usually acknowledge their request with a smile and a polite "sorry," but I never give them anything. Surprisingly, this turn was different.
As I rounded the corner, I just happened to be holding a quarter in my fingers. I had just received it as change for my coffee at The People's Cafe, and for some reason it provided me with momentary amusement. As I came even with the group of kids, one of them asked, "hey man, do you have a quarter you could give me?" I took another step, stopped, looked at the quarter, and tossed it to him. The gesture was followed by a cheer from his polluted pack. As I resumed my climb up the hill, another of the group called out, "Sir, out of curiosity, can I ask what you do for a living?" Without a thought I replied, "I'm currently unemployed." This elicited an even greater cheer than the original toss of the quarter.
The episode was amusing to me for two reasons. First, it proved a point raised in the book "Yes!," referenced in my last post. If you think compliance with a bigger request is unlikely, establish your relationship with the person you're asking by making an initial request that's small and specific. Once you've established for them a pattern of investing favors in you, they're unlikely to reverse the pattern. He got me on the small and specific.
Second, a related point from the book now means that I'm unlikely ever to toss a quarter to one of these kids again. As walked into our apartment, I was fixated on the meaning behind the second cheer. I concluded that I had - as an unemployed guy - upheld some beat-culture stereotype that he who has little, and should ascribe greatest relative value to even small sums of money, is likely to be more generous than someone who is prosperous. As the new psychographic researcher on "Mad Men" recently said, "no one wants to admit they're a type." As Cialdini might expand on that point, if someone thinks you're labeling them in a way they don't agree with, they will reject the label and the entire persuasion process will backfire. I believe that I'm currently equally generous, or parsimonious, as I have been at any other time in my life. Accordingly, I reject the label, and my available change is now virtually unattainable by all wayward-looking youth.
In retrospect, I guess that's twice that I played to type.
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