Obviously not a true New Yorker

I presented options to my grandparents this evening about my topic for this blog and I think my grandma's shouting of "OMG, YOU'RE SO STUPID" really validated my thoughts that I would get a reaction from the readers. To be fair, she followed up with "sorry Ceej, you're just so nice is all".... It is factual to say that I am extremely gullible, to say the least. Anywho, this story takes place in NY, where alot of my stories are going to come from because the Big Apple truly never sleeps, the hustle and bustle of the city is real. People are moving and working at all times of the day. The flare of personality wherever you go is unmistakable and the backlash you get when you show a slight glimpse that you're a tourist is downright demeaning. Bringing us straight to the core of this blog.

12 hour night shifts are absolutely BRUTAL on the body. I was working night shifts Pre-COVID and I didn't ever know what day of the week it was or even what time it was, and sometimes I'd leave work in an utter haze, just going through the motions to make it safely to my bed. Especially after working 3 back to back night shifts, you could tell I was out of it. I stepped off the 3 train at Eastern Parkway and I was almost home. I made my way up the steps as the morning rush hour crowd almost pummeled me to the ground while they were trying to get to their day jobs, in their perfectly ironed suits and coifed hair. I look up and the sun is glaring down at me. Bright, bright light, definitely not what I've been used to for the past 12 hours taking care of screaming moms in the delivery room wanting an epidural after trying to hold out for hours because their husbands wanted them to do it naturally and family members who ask questions you know they got straight from googling "how to encapsulate a placenta" at 2 am in the morning. From dealing with all the noises, all the chaos to the beaming white sunlight just showing me how much I need some Vitamin D and a day job, yet also how much I need sleep because my body is literally running on 4 cups of black coffee with just a splash of almond milk (I'm sadly lactose). I get to the corner of Lincoln Place and Washington Ave and I get approached by a man who seems absolutely frantic. "Hi, excuse me, " he says subtlely backing me into the building so that no one runs us over, "do you have a minute? I just came here from the airport, flew in from LA for an art show and my Uber dropped me off at the wrong place and now I have none of my belongings with me because the driver just took off and had my paintings, wallet, and phone with him. Do you have any cash to spare so that I can catch a cab? I'll venmo you back." Now I know what you're thinking, CJ if you really wanna be nice just call the guy a car and go home, let him borrow your phone so that he can call someone to come pick him up, give him a 20 and call it a day. What do I do exactly? None of the above. With my large eye bags drooping to the cement, the visible brain fog that was clouding all of my judgement, and my good ole' gullible brain I reply, "Oh dang, I'm so sorry that happened to you," fully believing every single word that came out of this guy's mouth, I dig through my backpack for my wallet and realize I have no cash, "come with me, we can go to the ATM." I try to strike up some sort of conversation with the dude while we are trekking to the ATM a block towards my apartment, but he's trailing behind me like I'm sprinting or something. I look over my shoulder, see him in the distance, and just keep going. I get there first and he finally reaches me after what seemed like forever. I try to think of all the things he needs, probably like 20-30 bucks for the cab, and what if he can't find a cab? The guy has gotta eat, he also lost all his artwork and belongings. I feel for this dude. "Is 40 bucks enough?" Looking back on it now, I see how stupid it was, but at the time I was just a sleepless nurse who felt sympathetic for another suffering human being. He said, "Maybe 60 to be safe?" And it was SIXTY FRICKIN DOLLARS that I withdrew from my bank account that day, and on top of that I had to pay the ATM fee! He asked for my email address to contact me for the return payment and didn't have anything to write it on so apparently, I trusted him to remember it so that I could get my money back. I handed him the cash and he took off sprinting after saying a minor "thanks". I made my way home, thinking I had done my good deed for the day. I get to my stoop, unlock the door and before you know it I'm already showered and in bed. Black out curtains are in place for a peaceful, soundless sleep, lights are turned off and last thing I do is I text my boyfriend to let him know I had performed an act of good will. And he loses his shit. He thinks I'm an absolute psychopath and he's 100% confident that I got ripped off. So much for a peaceful transition into a deep sleep, now I'm the frantic one. He calls me and tells me to look up "guy at eastern parkway asking for money" and there it is. A number of nasty complaints about who I knew as "the artist from LA" scamming people for money, asking them for cash EVERY SINGLE DAY AT THAT CORNER. Ohhhhh man alive, I sit there and question why I grew up to be this nice of a person, this gullible that I just hand over a significant amount of money to a total stranger. How tired am I every morning that I pass him and don't recognize that he's a regular asking for money? And there it is folks, validity that I am not a true New Yorker. No born-and-raised New York resident would even engage in this type of situation. They'd walk straight past this guy without a blink, knowing exactly that his intentions were to scam and knowing that he's been there every other day of that week.

I can definitely say that I learned my lesson from this experience, that I kept my head down more often than not when I was in public places from then on and let the humming of the city be it's own world and not let it penetrate my own. My friends and coworkers who I told this story to made sure to make it known to me that he must have known I wasn't from NY. Maybe it was just me though, I mean my grandma was raised in Hawaii and she knew I had made a mistake right from the start of the story, or maybe I was just not in the right state of mind. That could be it too. But all I do know is that I just put my gullibility on display. Please don't take advantage of me, lmao. And no, you can't borrow 60 dollars. I know better than that now.