Can I just talk to you for a minute? London vs the Chugger

The charity mugger or “chugger” debate is a tough one. Hotspots like Covent Garden and Tottenham Court Road are full of young people just trying to do an honest job. The charities are good causes and the paid fundraisers are an effective means of boosting donations.

But we can’t sign up to every request for a direct debit no matter how worthy the causes might be. That often creates the awkward challenge of trying to avoid meeting one of these friendly greeters. Passing them in the street becomes like British Bulldog, swerving from side to side and bouncing off people, walls and bollards. It is a wonder the Daily Mail has yet to publish a story on someone getting run over as they saunter into the bus lane to avoid the moral dilemna posed by a chugger. We each have our own ways of avoiding these people but it gets harder because the chuggers know exaclty what you are trying to do.

Words Will Get You Anywhere

A chugger in an Oxfam bib calls over:

“I love your coat man! Can I just talk to you for a minute?”

I reply quite truthfully that this coat was a purchase from his very charity. It cost about half a year’s direct debits, methinks. Should you also be an avid bargain-hunter you can regale a chugger with each part of your outfit and which charity shop it came from, which you probably bore your friends with anyway.

Then there’s the opposite situation.

“Hello! Have you got a moment?”

“Sorry.” She then looks me up and down as I walk away. (I’m wearing a blazer, open neck shirt and slim white chinos)

“You look nice!”

“Thank you!” Perhaps the real contribution of chuggers is lifting the moral of London by complimenting busy passers-by.

 

I seem to be a favourite of Hare Krishna followers, who often tell me I look like George Harrison, the man who was kind enough to pay for their temple. With such praise of my flowing locks and beard I can’t help but listen avidly to a book sale pitch. One of his colleagues had already sold me “Chant and be Happy” in a previous mugging, or chugging, so this guy upgraded me to a thicker volume. It’s your, he said, a gift. Except it supposedly costs fifty quid or something to print on that razor thin book-club paper.

“I’m just off to the cash point…”

Then there are times when a chugger knows that I’m escaping.On approach, a few files of people back, I begin my swerve. As I get closer I study a tourist trader’s carpet of crap so as to avoid eye contact with the chugger.

“Hello!” she says with a smile as I walk past. “I know you’re trying to avoid me but I thought I’d ask anyway.” I laugh and look back as we give each other top marks for effort.

 

Chugger dodges

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak English.” I have a friend who swears by that one but I have yet to see it in action.

Then there is crossing over the road to avoid them, quite a task on Tottenham Court Road, and you will just meet another one on the opposite side.

Maybe you should get your phone out and smile politely as you walk past? Or do you use the classic trick when walking with a friend, turning to them for a response? That offloads the moral dilemna, in effect saying “They’re talking to you, you know.”

 

The fact these chuggers are growing in number just proves that they work. That is obviously great for their respective charities (who let’s not forget pay astronomical salaries to their top staff). It is the usual debate about whether your money is going to the real charity or to pay for this marketing and fundraising. Ultimately to make the most difference, we should not pay that £60+ a year direct debit that passes through so many filters before it makes a difference. It is not just paying for marketing but for the logistics and infrastructure that prop up huge international charities. Instead, consider our grassroots local charities. They don’t make much but you can be guaranteed a tenner will go almost directly to where it’s most needed.

 

Stewart Vickers @VickHellfire

 

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