Global Wandering

Last week I was stopped by a man at the Cincinnati airport.

“Are you an executive?” he asked.

It was an odd question. Before I could answer, he said, “You look like you travel a lot. Can you help me?”

I nodded.

“You look annoyed,” he said.

“I’m trying to catch my flight.” I wasn’t annoyed, just wary.

The man quickly related how he was in town for a job interview, had missed his return flight to Pittsburgh and couldn’t get a flight out until tomorrow. He had no money for a hotel and another executive had offered to loan him $300 but they couldn’t get the ATM to work. At this point, he showed me the executive’s business card. The executive told him to find another executive and he or she would help.

“Why don’t you rent a car and drive?” I said.

“Because I don’t have a credit card.” He went on to plead with me how if I helped out and lent him the money it would restore my faith in Penn State grads, as if I somehow was disenchanted with them. He insisted he was just a Jewish kid who was in a bind and that he had asked eight people already and no one had helped, except for the other executive. He offered me his cell phone, showed me his drivers license and the reservation for the hotel where had stayed the previous night and paid cash.

Peter Drucker once said it is important to know how we learn best, whether orally or verbally, and under what circumstances we thrive. I categorically don’t thrive when approached by strangers in airports who pepper me with details of their travel woes. In fact, I shut down completely and am unable to come up with simple questions to test the veracity of their stories. The more details thrown at me, the more gullible I am. So I gave him the money and my return address. He in turn gave me his name, address and phone number.

I don’t mind helping those in need. I just don’t like being ripped off. I’m not sure if I was in this case. Afterwards, I thought of what I should have asked, and I remembered details that didn’t register in the heat of the moment. The man had a ticket jacket, but I didn’t think to ask to see his boarding pass. I don’t remember seeing his luggage, which is strange because he wasn’t dressed for a job interview.

I have since called the man’s cell phone and it turned out to be his, although the voicemail box was full so I couldn’t leave a message.

As of yet, I’ve seen no money.