The Con Sample
Elsa
Anyone paying any attention to Elsa Gardner could tell she was distressed. She jiggled the door of the white Toyota Camry parked on the street, checked her pockets and the ground around the car for the key, paced frantically and smacked her forehead with an Oh no before restarting the cycle by returning to the car door as if it might magically open. The panic in her voice amplified the effect, and the tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any moment cemented the image.
Her efforts were in vain. The door didn’t budge. She didn’t locate the key either. As she turned for another round of frantic pacing, she bumped into a man coming her way.
“Sorry, miss,” he said.
She looked up at him, a river of hope surging inside her, and said, “No, I’m sorry. It’s just that I—”
“What’s the problem?” he asked, his face a picture of concern. “You look stressed. Anything I can do to help?”
“I … I’ve locked myself out of my car, and I can’t find the key. And I’ve got to be someplace in thirty minutes. It’s very important,” she replied as she ran her hand through her hair nervously.
He smiled in a manner intended to calm her nerves. “That sucks. I’ve been there before.” A pause. “Can’t you Uber it and figure out the car situation later?”
“Oh. I don’t have Uber. Or Lyft. Or any of those apps.”
“Really?” he asked, staring at her as if she’d landed from another planet.
“Yes. I just drive everywhere,” she replied, suppressing the urge to imply that it was a dumb question. That would only antagonize him. “Besides, I feel those services exploit the drivers.”
“Seems like you don’t have much of a choice, then. I wish I could drop you, but I took the bus myself.”
“Thank you.” She flashed a grateful smile, wiping the tears from her eyes. “This is awkward, but … do you have any cash?”
Doubt crept into his face, and he studied her for a bit. Elsa was confident that she was dressed well enough that the man wouldn’t take her to be one of the numerous homeless begging for handouts.
“Cash?” he asked.
“For a cab.”
“A cab,” he replied, sounding skeptical.
She tried to remember the last time she’d seen a cab cruising the streets of San Jose. It was evident that the man had the same thought, because he asked, “And how are you going to find one?”
Elsa shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s my best shot. I’ll pay you back later. I promise.”
He considered her response for a few moments before reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to produce his wallet. He flipped it open and surveyed the contents. A victorious grin followed as he fished out a twenty-dollar bill.
“This is all I’ve got.” He held the note out to her.
She grabbed it before he had a chance to change his mind. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could help. Good luck with the cab.”
And just like that, the man was off. Not bad, she thought as she stole a glance at the 7-Eleven at the corner. Satisfied with what she saw, she scanned the rest of the street and spotted a diner. Her stomach rumbled, sensing that relief was near. She headed towards the restaurant.
Rich aromas attacked her the moment she stepped inside. Her stomach growled again in anticipation. She slipped into an empty booth and beckoned the waitress. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes. She ordered it all. Fiscal prudence demanded that she save some of her newfound wealth, but if there was ever a time to be reckless, this was it. Her mouth flooded with saliva as she surveyed the rest of the diner, watching people stuffing themselves. They probably enjoyed the luxury three times a day, every day. When was the last time she had eaten real food? It seemed like an eternity. It was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed already.
As she waited, she thought about the kind man — a simple, unsuspecting soul who had handed over the last of his cash to a stranger. He hadn’t even taken her up on her offer to pay him back later. It was heartening to know that such people still existed, though it pained her to acknowledge that crooks like her were the reason a lot of people had stopped trusting their brethren.
Anyone paying any attention to Elsa Gardner could tell she was distressed. She jiggled the door of the white Toyota Camry parked on the street, checked her pockets and the ground around the car for the key, paced frantically and smacked her forehead with an Oh no before restarting the cycle by returning to the car door as if it might magically open. The panic in her voice amplified the effect, and the tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any moment cemented the image.
Her efforts were in vain. The door didn’t budge. She didn’t locate the key either. As she turned for another round of frantic pacing, she bumped into a man coming her way.
“Sorry, miss,” he said.
She looked up at him, a river of hope surging inside her, and said, “No, I’m sorry. It’s just that I—”
“What’s the problem?” he asked, his face a picture of concern. “You look stressed. Anything I can do to help?”
“I … I’ve locked myself out of my car, and I can’t find the key. And I’ve got to be someplace in thirty minutes. It’s very important,” she replied as she ran her hand through her hair nervously.
He smiled in a manner intended to calm her nerves. “That sucks. I’ve been there before.” A pause. “Can’t you Uber it and figure out the car situation later?”
“Oh. I don’t have Uber. Or Lyft. Or any of those apps.”
“Really?” he asked, staring at her as if she’d landed from another planet.
“Yes. I just drive everywhere,” she replied, suppressing the urge to imply that it was a dumb question. That would only antagonize him. “Besides, I feel those services exploit the drivers.”
“Seems like you don’t have much of a choice, then. I wish I could drop you, but I took the bus myself.”
“Thank you.” She flashed a grateful smile, wiping the tears from her eyes. “This is awkward, but … do you have any cash?”
Doubt crept into his face, and he studied her for a bit. Elsa was confident that she was dressed well enough that the man wouldn’t take her to be one of the numerous homeless begging for handouts.
“Cash?” he asked.
“For a cab.”
“A cab,” he replied, sounding skeptical.
She tried to remember the last time she’d seen a cab cruising the streets of San Jose. It was evident that the man had the same thought, because he asked, “And how are you going to find one?”
Elsa shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s my best shot. I’ll pay you back later. I promise.”
He considered her response for a few moments before reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to produce his wallet. He flipped it open and surveyed the contents. A victorious grin followed as he fished out a twenty-dollar bill.
“This is all I’ve got.” He held the note out to her.
She grabbed it before he had a chance to change his mind. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could help. Good luck with the cab.”
And just like that, the man was off. Not bad, she thought as she stole a glance at the 7-Eleven at the corner. Satisfied with what she saw, she scanned the rest of the street and spotted a diner. Her stomach rumbled, sensing that relief was near. She headed towards the restaurant.
Rich aromas attacked her the moment she stepped inside. Her stomach growled again in anticipation. She slipped into an empty booth and beckoned the waitress. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes. She ordered it all. Fiscal prudence demanded that she save some of her newfound wealth, but if there was ever a time to be reckless, this was it. Her mouth flooded with saliva as she surveyed the rest of the diner, watching people stuffing themselves. They probably enjoyed the luxury three times a day, every day. When was the last time she had eaten real food? It seemed like an eternity. It was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed already.
As she waited, she thought about the kind man — a simple, unsuspecting soul who had handed over the last of his cash to a stranger. He hadn’t even taken her up on her offer to pay him back later. It was heartening to know that such people still existed, though it pained her to acknowledge that crooks like her were the reason a lot of people had stopped trusting their brethren.