Im a pensioner and while I was selling my hot, fresh bagels just now, someone tried to swindle me.
There I am at my little bagel stall, parked on my usual corner in the heart of town, when two blokes saunter over. Theyre smartly dressed, in suits and ties, each with a briefcase that probably hasnt seen the inside of an office in years. The sort of men who look like managers, but theres something shifty about them from the off.
Good morning, madam, says one with the kind of salesmans smile that makes you check your pocket afterwards. Are you the owner of this business?
Thats right, love, I reply. Can I offer you a bagel? Theyre piping hot, just out of the oven.
No, thats not why were here. Your stall is in a high-demand trading area, and youll need to get your paperwork sorted.
That set my alarm bells ringing. Still, I decided to play the dotty old lady for a moment.
Oh, dear, paperwork! You know, I barely manage my blood sugar, let alone paperwork. Diabetes, high blood pressure, and they told me my cholesterols through the roof the other day. Do you have cholesterol problems? I can tell you what tablets Im on
Madam, we just need you to sign he tried to cut in.
Its not polite to interrupt your elders, you know. As I was saying, those pills make me swell up like a balloon at a funfair. And my daughter, poor thing, shes getting divorced Her husband turned out to be an absolute layabout, just like my late first husband, God rest his soul though to be honest, he was the same when he was alive
The other man was losing patience, rustling through some documents.
Madam, this is about a fine of five thousand pounds and
Five thousand? Oh, darling, I struggle to scrape together enough for the rent! Have you seen the price of gas lately? And electricity? My youngest grandson, bless him, wants to be a vet one daystill at school mind youand hes always telling me, Gran, dont leave the boiler on so much. But at my age, I need the hot water or my bones seize up
Please, you must listen
No, YOU listen to ME. Do you know what its like selling bagels at sixty-eight? My pension barely covers my prescriptions. Ive got arthritis knees, hands, my neck Sometimes I cant sleep for the pain. Yet Im here every morning rain, snow, or blazing sun. If I dont come, I dont eat. And you want me to cough up five grand? Youd be better off calling an ambulance I might drop dead and give you a real problem.
They glanced at each other, beads of sweat starting to show.
Well perhaps we could arrange a payment plan
A payment plan? Ive already got one with the bank, one with the chemist, even one with the corner shop. And my neighbour for my tooth! Do you know how much a tooth costs these days? Three thousand pounds! And thats with an NHS dentist!
One of them was already packing up the papers.
But wait, I havent finished. My sisters on dialysis. Do you know what that means? Three times a week, four hours on a machine. Pure agony. The benefits dont cover everything. All of us pitch in, brothers and sisters alike, but out of my bagels I scrape together a hundred pounds a month to help her out. And now a fine? For what? All my papers are in order. Ive got permission from the council, Im registered, I pay my taxes not much, because I dont make much. Ive even got my health booklet. Want to see it?
I pulled out my purse, stuffed with slips of paper.
Here you go. My licence is valid till next year. Signed and stamped. And which department did you say you were from, again?
They began to edge away.
Oh, you didnt say? Thats odd. Because I might be retired, but Im not daft. Before I was selling bagels, I did thirty-five years with the council myself right in the licensing department. So I know full well whos entitled to ask for what, and an official doesnt turn up in a bargain suit and ask for cash under the table with no receipt.
And another thing theres a camera on that corner. My son-in-laws a policeman. He sorted this pitch for me because its safe. Want me to ring him? Hes only three streets away.
They nearly sprinted off.
No, madam, theres clearly been a mistake
Take some bagels for the road! I called after them. Shows Im not the grudging sort!
One of my regular customers was bent double with laughter.
You kept them listening to you for half an hour!
You know, half of what I said was porkies. I dont have diabetes, my daughters happy, and my sisters fit as a fiddle. But conmen always think if youre old and a bit strapped, you must be simple too.
What about your policeman son-in-law?
Thats true. And so is the camera. And the paperwork most of all. Because being poor isnt the same as being daft. I sell bagels because the state pensions meagre, not because I cant add up.
I set out the next batch of bagels, extra sugar just the way they like them, and carried on with my day.
What do you reckon does being poor make you vulnerable, or are life experience and cunning worth more than any diploma?
