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last week me and my gf went to the Tim Hortons across from surrey memorial and there was a homeless guy standing at the door asking for change, so I told him I would get him w.e he wants to eat. I get the food for him and come back outside and hes not even there some other guy was there so I just gave it to the new homeless guy standing there.

Wtf man he could have just waited the couple of mins and ate a full meal or just said he didn't want any food felt like i wasted 10 dollars even though somebody else ate the food

Never, ever, give $. Give food if you really want to make them happy, and if they are happy, great they probably really are poor, and if they get mad, they deserve a kick in the fucking face.

Many homeless in Van aren't even "homeless". There are some who are making $30,000 a year.

Gave a homeless guy a quarter at a light once and he said "wow...can't even dial long distance with this" (why the fk does he need to dial long distance)... never again...

That one guy downtown who holds the cardboard sign that says something about smiling if you masturbate or some stupid joke... he bought a cell phone from my friend and provided a real address and had a credit card and everything............

If you go to big events in downtown, say opening night of Cirque du Soleil or something... go early and stand outside... you literally see an army of panhandlers roll up in taxi cabs and set up shop on the sidewalk... it's fucking disgusting. Taxi cabs!!!

Quote:

Originally Posted by AzNightmare (Post 8539613)

I think offering food is the best.

I was on my way to McD one time, the weather was kind of cloudy.
I saw a homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk asking for change, so I asked if he wanted food instead?
He looked pretty desperate so since I was already on the way to McD, I just bought an extra cheeseburger.
And they had free small coffee promo at the time too, so I got that as well.

It only took about 5-10 mins, but it was raining by the time I left McD.
I went back to the spot which wasn't covered and the guy was missing
:okay:

Then I continued walking down the street and spotted him standing by a building that had an awning.
:awwyeah:

Never believe those guys with too detailed of a story.
It's like they have it all planned out like an artform which is sick.
You'll see the same guy there every day with the same story.
Which is also the same reason why "Nigerian Prince" scams are so detailed and planned out...

Some guy came up to me once at outside the McD's at Terminal and Main and asked for some money for some food. I said "No, sorry" and went in. I bought an extra cheeseburger too, thinking I was skipping a step for him, and getting him what he wanted.

Came out and said "I don't have money for you, but here's a burger", expecting some kind of reaction of like "oh great, food!", and instead, he took it, said thanks briefly, and looked off in another direction, for the next person he could harass for money.

Asshole obviously wasn't there for food, he just wanted money for bad habits.

So goddamned disheartening.

I agree Hondaracer, giving food or clothing etc instead of money is really the only way to go.

ya, i've heard of all the stories. Oh, need money for the skytrain or from outta town and need money for greyhound bus to get home. Or car ran outta gas and need money.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAA RIIIIIIIIIGHT. FUCK YOU!!!

The quarter lady downtown cracks me up. After all these years she is still going strong and has not raised her price.

There's a woman that sits on a milk carton outside the entrance of Whole Foods Cambie every single day that does this.

I was walking down Robson by the Art Gallery with my friend when we were stopped at a red light. There was this pan handler begging for money saying how hungry he was even though there was a banana right beside him. Anyways.. during that 1 minute stop 2 people gave him quite a bit of change.

My friend has been on student loans for 2 years now and doesn't work.. I said to her.. WTH have you been doing with your life lol.. That guy made more money in 2 minutes than you have in 2 years.. She looked at me.. and went :okay:.. and then went :lawl: its true bahaha..

i wouldn't mind sparing change for ppl in need

But nowadays there's too many pooks ard you can't tell who isn't gonna use that change to get high.

Nor if they actually need bus fare to get home.

bitches aint getting a dollar out of me

saw this at waterfront a year or two ago. some homeless guy was begging for money so this girl from starbucks inside the station gave him a sandwich. he looked happy. i went outside only to see him trying to sell the fucking sandwich.

Depends on the person asking for help, I think I've developed a good enough gauge on who actually needs help for food/clothes/shelter and who's looking for drugs/alcohol. If i'm suspicious I'll ask if they want to come with me and I'll buy them food just to see their reaction. But I will provide all of them with help but more to those who I think are really in need of it.

Was brought up volunteering and helping those in need and I realize there isn't exactly an easy solution for everyone "get a job" is far from being the answer or even first step for most of those on the streets.

Quote:

Originally Posted by SpeedStars (Post 8539590)

The homeless guys in downtown make like $20 an hour or something. When I used to work at the Scotia theater, there was (maybe he's still there) this guy who would take off all of his clothes(except shorts and pants), put it underneath the trashcan where he "worked" and when it was very late at night, I sometimes saw him hail a taxi and put on a fkn peacoat looking fly as fuck

He is. It's the same guy with a sign saying its his 53rd or 54th bday all the time. He puts his jacket or w/e into the closest newspaper near him and pretends to be shaking in a cold. Saw him one time pulled out a nice canucks jacket and wore it...

I don't give panhandlers money but if I see someone working for money on the street like homeless musicians or artists, I usually help out if I have spare change. In china panhandlers are usually owned and ran by street thugs, they steal women, children, and old people, then beat them or break their legs to handicap them and send them to the streets to beg for money. It's really disgusting, kids are crippled and tongues cut out so they can't talk, then they take them to far places and have them beg people to earn money for the thugs.

90% of the time, I'll just walk right by them or I'll just say a simple "No." Yet if you catch me in a good mood I'll usually spare nothing more then a $1.

I'm so fucking jaded against panhandlers though. In Burnaby there was a lady who had a red scooter (one of those old person scooters). She would pretend to be homeless and sit at the BC Liquor Store during the day at highgate mall, then go to the 7-11 at Canada Way & Edmonds for afew hours at night... then fucking HEAD HOME to the old folks home just behind Edmonds.

Once I learned this, I would make it a statement to say "NO!" whenever she asked. Haven't seen her for awhile though, good riddance.

here is my story...

Homeless Person: Sir, can I have some change for food? I've been here all day.
Me: Sorry, I don't have change but I can get you a sandwich or something.
HP: I'm Vegetarian
Me: How about a vegie sub or wrap?
HP: Ok.. can I have a coffee too?
Me: ok. I'll be back in 30min.
HP: ok I'll be here.
30 mins later.. no where to be found..

No wonder people hate them...

all i do is hook up food when i'm hitting up a mcd's or timmy's if someone waiting outside asks me. i figure feeling hungry is a shitty feeling and they ain't going to drugs.

i hate seeing the ones with dogs. I feel obliged to give em food or something.

funny thing is, i don't even see the person, i see the dog and i'm like, fuck what did that poor animal do to deserve this.

watching OP's video makes me enraged

the bitch was caught redhanded and is still lying

Quote:

Originally Posted by iEatClams (Post 8539702)

The one thing that bugs me is the Asian people that come in to toy drives and food banks to get free food/toys and then load it up into their Mercedes / BMW SUV.

This reminded me of an article I read. Not saying the people you saw are exactly like the person in the article. Just adding some perspective.

This is what happened when I drove my Mercedes to pick up food stamps - The Washington Post

Quote:

Two weeks before my children were born, my future husband found himself staring at a pink slip. The days of unemployment turned into weeks, months, and, eventually, years.

Then my kids were born, six weeks early. They were just three pounds each at birth, barely the length of my shoe. We fed them through a little tube we attached to our pinky fingers because their mouths weren’t strong enough to suckle. We spent 10 days in the hospital waiting for them to increase in size. They never did. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my babies to put on weight. With their lives at risk, I switched from breast milk to formula, at about $15 a can. We went through dozens a week.

In just two months, we’d gone from making a combined $120,000 a year to making just $25,000 and leeching out funds to a mortgage we couldn’t afford. Our savings dwindled, then disappeared.

So I did what I had to do. I signed up for Medicaid and the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants and Children.

It’s not easy. To qualify, you must be pregnant or up to six months postpartum. I had to fill out at least six forms and furnish my Social Security card, birth certificate and marriage license. I sat through exams, meetings and screenings. They had a lot of questions about the house: Wasn’t it an asset? Hadn’t we just bought it? They questioned every last cent we’d ever made. Did we have stock options or pensions? Did we have savings? I had to send them my three most recent check stubs to prove I was making as little as I said I was.
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On top of this, I had to get my vitals checked and blood work taken to determine whether I was at risk of improper nourishment without the program. It’s very bourgeois. Not. But I did it.

* * *

Driving to the WIC office the first time was scary. It wasn’t an office, like I’d thought it would be. It was the basement of a dreary church. We sat in disused pews, waiting to be called for our coupons, which would get us some tuna, some cheerios, a gallon of milk, baby formula.

Using the coupons was even worse. The stares, the faux concern, the pity, the outrage — I hated it. One time, an old, kind-looking man with a bit of a hunch was standing behind me with just a six-pack of soda, waiting to check out. The entire contents of my cart were splayed out on the conveyor belt. When he noticed the flash of large white paper stubs in my hand, he touched me on the shoulder. I was scared that he was going to give me money; instead he gave me a small, rectangular card. He asked me to accept Jesus into my heart so that my troubles would disappear. I think I managed a half-smile before breaking into long, jogging strides out of there, the workers calling after me as to whether I still wanted my receipt.

That was one of the better times. Once, a girl at the register actually stood up for me when an older mother of three saw the coupons and started chastising my purchase of root beer. They were “buy two, get one free” at a dollar a pop.

“Surely, you don’t need those,” she said. “WIC pays for juice for you people.”
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The girl, who couldn’t have been more than 19, flashed her eyes up to my face and saw my grimace as I white-knuckled the counter in front of me, preparing my cold shoulder.

“Who are you, the soda police?” she asked loudly. “Anyone bother you about the pound of candy you’re buying?”

The woman huffed off to another register, and I’m sure she complained about that girl. I, meanwhile, thanked her profusely.

“I’ve got a son,” she said, softly. “I know what it’s like.”

* * *

That’s the funny thing about being poor. Everyone has an opinion on it, and everyone feels entitled to share. That was especially true about my husband’s Mercedes. Over and over again, people asked why we kept that car, offering to sell it in their yards or on the Internet for us.

“You can’t be that bad off,” a distant relative said, after inviting himself over for lunch. “You still got that baby in all its glory.”

Sometimes, it was more direct. All from a place of love, of course. “Sell the Mercedes,” a friend said to me. “He doesn’t get to keep his toys now.”

But it wasn’t a toy — it was paid off. My husband bought that car in full long before we met. Were we supposed to trade it in for a crappier car we’d have to make payments on? Only to have that less reliable car break down on us?

And even if we had wanted to do that, here’s what people don’t understand: The reality of poverty can spring quickly while the psychological effects take longer to surface. When you lose a job, your first thought isn’t, “Oh my God, I’m poor. I’d better sell all my nice stuff!” It’s “I need another job. Now.” When you’re scrambling, you hang on to the things that work, that bring you some comfort. That Mercedes was the one reliable, trustworthy thing in our lives.
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That’s how I found myself, one dreary day when my Honda wouldn’t start, in my husband’s Mercedes at the WIC office. I parked gingerly over one of the many potholes, shut off the purring engine and locked it, then walked briskly to the door — head held high and not looking in either direction.

To this day, it is the single most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.

No one spoke to me, but they did stare. Mouths agape, the poverty-stricken mothers struggling with infant car seats, paperwork and their toddlers never took their eyes off me, the tall blond girl, walking with purpose on heels from her Mercedes to their grungy den.

I didn’t feel animosity coming from them, more wonderment, maybe a bit of resentment. The most embarrassing part was how I felt about myself. How I had so internalized the message of what poor people should or should not have that I felt ashamed to be there, with that car, getting food. As if I were not allowed the food because of the car. As if I were a bad person.

We’ve now sold that house. My husband found a job that pays well, and we have enough left over for me to go to grad school. President Obama’s programs — from the extended unemployment benefits to the tax-free allowance for short-selling a home we couldn’t afford — allowed us to crawl our way out of the hole.

But what I learned there will never leave me. We didn’t deserve to be poor, any more than we deserved to be rich. Poverty is a circumstance, not a value judgment. I still have to remind myself sometimes that I was my harshest critic. That the judgment of the disadvantaged comes not just from conservative politicians and Internet trolls. It came from me, even as I was living it.

Edited
*I don't want to turn this into a "negative experiences with the homeless" thread.

Quote:

Originally Posted by anti-vip (Post 8539634)

^^backfired on me. there is a homeless guy always chillin inside RBC after hours(atm machines) across richmond centre and I thought id buy him coffee and muffin, so I did and handed it to him but for some reason he got mad lol. I was pissed yo...

http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb2...ed-quickly.jpg

I have 3 stories that stick in my mind.

1. 2007, Easter weekend. I was working on Robson at the time and decided to go to Timmies on Alberni for lunch. Saw two homeless guys sitting outside of Timmies, didn't ask for change, food, nothin. When I walked passed them, all they said was "Happy Easter!" I dunno why, but that prompted me to get them some Tim's gift certificates. Gave $10 worth to each of them and they couldn't have been happier. They were super excited from what I could hear while walking towards the end of the street. That made me feel good.

2. Maybe 2-3 years ago. I was walking on a fine Saturday afternoon with my parents downtown, and I saw a man, no older than 35, was digging through the trash bin outside of Tiffany's. I watched him dig, and eat whatever was edible straight from that can. I felt really sorry for him. I watched him walk down the street to another can and proceeded to do the same thing. I 'followed' him a little bit until he was near the Hyatt hotel, as that was the direction my family was walking. I wanted so badly to buy him a meal, but my dad has this thing against the homeless... so in the end I didn't do anything. Felt like shit the rest of the day.

3. Recent few months earlier I was downtown with the boyfriend, and we saw a guy digging out of a trash can. It reminded me of the story I told above, but it wasn't the same man. We crossed the street, but I decided to cross back to his side. I approached him and asked if he wanted anything from Starbucks. He said "yea! can you get me one of those fudge things?" and I said sure, I'll buy him whatever he wants. We go into the Starbucks beside London Drugs, and I said he can have whatever he wants again. He only wanted to oat fudge bar, and declined the sandwiches or coffee I offered to buy him. Then he took his fudge bar and ate it on his way out.

I've seen and been approached by some really nasty pan handlers... but they aren't all bad. I seldom ever give money because it feels wrong to me, but I don't mind dropping any amount of money to give them a filling meal.

not sure if double post I didn't read through the whole thread but there was an article on the news a while back about how some Edmonton panhandlers make up to $1000 a day and most of them drive nice cars, have nice clothes, house, etc. they panhandle as an "occupation". I never give money to them.. I work HARD for my money. I don't feel sorry for anyone that can't stop smoking meth and cant find a job.