Born Yesterday - Liars and Cons

In general, I'm a pretty gullible person. I find it takes a lot of mental energy to constantly test the veracity of everything in the world. So when someone with a hideous toupee leaves the room and everyone who's been holding it in finally bursts out laughing I'm usually the guy going, "What? What? What's so funny?"

I don't really mind though. I guess people who do constantly wonder about whether they're being tricked do so, in part, to avoid embarrassment. But I don't care much. I grew up in a family of practical jokers. I enjoy a good, "ya got me."

Just like a roast, there is a compliment embedded in a practical joke. "You are important enough to go to this effort to have a laugh at your expense."

Casual, recreational liars, however, annoy me. You know these types. People who tell unimportant lies frequently in social conversation just to see how many of them they can get you to believe. It's not really about fun pranks and humor. It's just about power and control. Super gross jokes and stories are the same. They offer power to make someone feel repulsed.

Casual lying requires almost no effort, so there's no compliment. And it's annoying because with some people it's a game you're forced to play repeatedly, even though you were never asked whether you wanted to.

Recreational liars usually reveal their lies quickly, which does two things. First, it allows them to believe of themselves that they are not actually liars. They think to themselves, "I'm not a liar. I'm just having fun. See? I came clean right away."

Second, and this is why they do it, it puts them in a position of power. While they're telling the lie, they get to feel sneaky. When they reveal it they get to feel superior. "Ha, ha. I lied to you. I can't believe you believed me. You're so stupid."

Perhaps I'm different from other people, perhaps not. I don't know. But when someone reveals they've managed to get me to swallow a recreational lie, it doesn't make me feel stupid or inferior. It usually just makes me feel some combination of pity and sadness.

"I'm not ashamed. I'm a trusting person. You're a liar. So who here is lower than whom?"

In the end, I end up thinking less of someone I previously respected.

Constantly wondering when one is being deceived is exhausting and strikes me as a sad, sad, sad, depressing way to live.

"Am I being lied to now? How 'bout now? Now? What about now?"

No thanks.

Plus, it seems rude to assume someone you've just met is a liar. It's easier and more friendly to take people at face value until you have a reason not to. It's not until I realize someone has lied to me that I bother questioning everything they say. It's actually a conscious switch in my brain. "Ah, a liar, engage bullshit detector."

Of course, you can't go through life blithely believing everything you're ever told, especially not in this town. So I did eventually develop a decent set of bullshit detectors. I just don't bother using them until my interests are at stake.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

The Melon Drop is a street con which seems to be popular here. It's a simple trick. The modern version is: bump into someone, drop a bag which crashes to the ground with the sound of broken glass, demand money.

When I first moved to New York City thirteen years ago I was so wide-eyed and eager I'm sure I screamed "mark" at about a hundred meter range. While walking up Broadway some guy tried to pull this con on me. However, I knew immediately it was a trick. I was amazed at the time, and still am in retrospect, that I did not get scammed. But several things gave it away.

• The con swerved so suddenly and body checked me so hard it was clearly deliberate. "Hey, why did that guy slam into me?"
  
• I have a pretty good ear. The sound that a glass vase makes when it breaks is a distinctive, sharp, resonant clang. The sound the con's bag made when it hit the ground was that of already broken shards of glass sloshing against each other. The difference is subtle, but to me it was so obvious that my first thought was not, "Oh no, I broke that guy's vase." It was, "Who the heck carries around a bag full of glass shards?" I guess all those years of music lessons weren't wasted after all.
• The bag was a small, crummy, black, plastic, grocery bag, like you'd get when buying a soda and chips. It was not the sort of bag you'd get from a store that sells glassware.

So despite my naivety and general credulity, this sudden rush of thoughts helped me avoid the con. I was, however, terrified. With my heart pounding and adrenaline pulsing I just kept walking in a cold sweat. I didn't even look back as he started yelling the script of his con after me.

Despite my escape the incident really shook me up. It haunted my thoughts and dreams for weeks.

Fast forward thirteen years.

Yesterday I was walking down the street with a friend and sure enough ... bump ... crash ... melon drop.

This con's technique was much smoother. There was no sudden swerve or body check. His arm brushed mine so subtly that I only registered the contact after the sound.

Once again, to my amusement, the sounds of already broken shards of glass came from the very same, crummy, black plastic bag. The new con even looked a bit like the previous one.

There were quite a few people around on the street, some of whom may have been the con's shills.

But this time, I was not phased. I actually laughed out loud and without looking back or even breaking stride I said,

"Sorry. I'm not falling for it. Find someone else to pull this on."

Everyone around laughed and the guy didn't even bother starting his script.

Final score ...

Street Cons: 0
Dale: 2
Street Comedy: 1