File this one under “What exactly is wrong with me and/or my face?”
An act of "kindness" rebuffed
Because of my recently mentioned duties as the keeper of ride-rider backpacks at a local-ish amusement park last week, I had a lot of time that day to observe all of the people, including the fine workers at said park, aka Kings Island Amusement Park, a division of Cedar Fair inc.
At one point during the day, the backpacks and I lounged across from the park’s caricature artists, for the better part of an hour. These talented people stand at a busy foot traffic intersection and try to get people to meander over to have their pictures drawn in a comical, exaggerated-yet-fun-and-not-mean likeness.
Just in case you’re not familiar with the art form.
After a while of observing them, I felt like I understood them. Knew them on some level. I appreciated how hard they were working to promote their craft. And their promotion game was on point.
“Hey, wouldn’t you like a fun drawing of your pretty lady?”
“You guys look like you would love a unique souvenir of your time today.”
“Come let me show you some options! It will only take a minute!”
“You’ve already spent an entire paycheck on food alone today - what’s another 50 bucks?”
These are some examples of their crowd work.
We ended up leaving that particular area for a while, and as we were coming back that way, I saw the same talented artists still slogging away and really barking the greatest hits of carnival-style banter to get people to sit in the chair.
Now, I knew I was not going to have a caricature done, but I felt a deep calling to walk a little closer to the booth, to present an easy smile, and, once I was offered a chance to sit in the muse’s chair, to politely decline but comment on the incredible quality of their work.
It was the least I could do. I’m nothing if not charitable in spirit to the artists of the world.
Thus, I adjusted my path so that I would be a mere foot from the nice lady who was sharing her talent with the world park. As I got closer, our eyes met, I nodded, and I prepared myself for the pitch that was coming. Prepared myself to politely decline but praise her work.
Prepared to provide a moment of human kindness so rare these days.
Just as I was as in the “pitch zone” as I like to call it, my retort already finalized and on the tip of my tongue, the artist looked at me, right in the eye/soul, smiled and said, with a notably lower level of the enthusiasm than she had shown in all of the time that I had known her, “Hi“, before yelling to the group behind me that they looked like THEY might enjoy a fun souvenir.
At this point, I can only guess that there are three possible explanations that fit this scenario.
1) I am un-draw-able. There is something about my face which an artist immediately homes in on before realizing it’s not worth the effort.
2) I already look like a caricature, so what’s the point? Where is the challenge?
3) The obvious effort I was putting into swooping close to an absolute stranger to smile a sweaty, sunburned smile and complement her work was so off-putting, so threatening, she felt the safest option was to acknowledge my presence as a human but seek someone – anyone - who would at least consider coming over to look at her portfolio until the strange, sweaty-faced man cleared the area.
I think it’s probably somewhere in between.
Thanks as always for reading. I wish you a day free of strange-but-well-meaning people swooping into your personal space.
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