When I was a young adult working in New York City as well as living there, I happened to meet an older gentleman at the bank. This was long before direct deposit, so weekly I made my way across 46th Street to the bank.
While waiting in line, this man who by all appearances looked like a street person, with tattered clothes and obviously unwashed, happened to speak with me. He had good diction, was polite, and didn’t do anything inappropriate. We chatted for awhile and he mentioned he had lived in New York all his life.
The bank was selling Unicef cards and he said he wanted to buy me some. Of course, I said No and finally, it was my time for the teller.
On my way out of the bank, he handed me a box of cards insisting that I take them. I thanked him and left hoping he hadn’t stolen them.
The following week I was in the bank again cashing my paycheck. I asked the teller about the man and I described him. She chuckled and then told me that he was the largest depositor in that institution.
I learned that day to never judge people by clothes, appearance or preconceived notions. You can’t judge a book by its cover.
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