Two things piss me off. *
1) The people who canvas for Sick Kids' Hospital. I think it's nice, obviously. And I think it's probably important to their annual fundraising campaign. I do not, however, like their approach. As you walk by, perhaps absorbed in the music you're listening to or the conversation you're sharing with a friend, they say "Do you have a moment for Sick Kids?" The answer to that question every single time is "Yes I do." But . . . I don't. More rightly, I don't have money for Sick Kids right now. And they look at you with equal parts puppy-dog-eyes and rage, because hundreds of selfish people have passed them by all day long. I think it's vindictive and cruel, this job they do. Like the Beavers who ambush you to buy their chocolate covered nuts outside the beer store, but with the added guilt of leukemia.
2) Black History Pamphlets. The same sort of thing. These guys stand on Yonge Street, usually in some sort of natty hat and glove combo, where they hold out poorly designed 8½ X 11 booklets. When you reach to take it, to show your support of their ethnicity, they clutch it tightly in their hand and ask you for money. For what? They don't even try to explain. They just want your money. And then, resentful, you let go and they look at you like you're Don Imus. I hate it when this happens. Every day of my life.
* Not including thousands of other things.