It started with a post to the church Facebook page on a random Saturday morning, 9 a.m.:
Good morning my name is Tyler I rededicate my life to the lord I got it work out with my train ticket I’m leaving tonight on train Tonight was wondering if you could help me with a meal and some snacks for my trip? Sorry I feel embarrassed talk to you later… great sermons online
I’m one of the people authorized to respond to messages like this on the church page. A quick check of his FB profile indicated that he hadn’t posted anything to it in 6 years. This was most likely someone using an abandoned account to scam people. If I continued, he’d probably ask me for money before too long. There was a chance he was sincere, but it seemed very unlikely to me. I sent a polite “sorry”:
Hi, Tyler! Your Facebook profile says you’re in California, so I don’t think we’re close enough to help you. God bless you on your journey.
Oh, no, he answered. He was in town, leaving on the train tonight.
Now, I’ve dealt with scam artists before. For me the fun lies in stringing them along for as long as I can until they realize I figured them out 10 minutes ago. I rubbed my hands in glee.
I’ll be happy to help you with a meal and some snacks. I’ll meet you at the train station. What time does your train leave?
His train left in the wee hours of the morning, he said.
That was right – the only train out of town left at 3 a.m.
He still hadn’t asked me for money, so I invited him to meet me for lunch downtown at the Bistro and promised him some snacks to go. Call his bluff in a public location.
He said OK.
The Bistro is a small-town coffeeshop where everybody knows everybody. I got there early and told the staff what was going on, including my firm belief that no one was going to show up, but that he would ask me for money. IF he showed up at all. Everyone was curious. I shared a story of the last scammer who crossed my path, proudly ending with “By the time it was over, he was saying, ‘Lady, I have to go.'”
I made this into a community event. “Oh! He just texted that he’s lost – can’t find the courthouse!” (Group scorn) “Oh, he just texted that the courthouse is closed! Ya think?” (Group sarcasm) I never expected anyone to show up. I expected him to ask me to Venmo some cash.
Then the door opened. He had been walking all over town. His GPS had taken him to the library first. Eventually, though, he found the courthouse and the Bistro, right across from it. We recognized him from his Facebook profile picture, a soft-spoken man in his early 20s with meth mouth and a beard, mostly sober, carrying a Bible like a prop, having a lot of trouble telling the truth but really just looking for a meal.
He liked the sloppy joe special. He shared stories about different places in California, where he’s from. We talked about people not getting along and about being able to disagree with respect. He shared wisdom from his mother.
We talked for about an hour. My friend made sure he had chips and cookies to take with him. We said a prayer for his safety, and we called it a day. I came home humbled.
I started the morning very cynical about this situation; I was looking forward to putting a scam artist to shame. Instead, the shame is on me for judging someone who just wanted something to eat. There’s a sermon here, and I hope I’m listening.
Note: “Tyler” is not his real name, and the young man in the photo is not the young man I met.