Busker

I was in Grand Central Terminal yesterday and I walked past a busker.

I haven't seen a lot of buskers in New York.  In fact, I don't think I'd seen any before this guy.  In Cambridge, I would see five or six in an hour.  Some were full groups with electric equipment, some were orchestral quartets.  There was an opera singer who sang accompanied by a tape recorder providing the music and also a old tramp who blew into a tin whistle and jumped about in a performance where effort trumped ability.

This guy was alone and playing something classical on a violin, which seemed appropriate for the tall marble halls and gilded chandeliers of Grand Central.  He was so good that I actually thought there was more than a single violin playing.  I watched him to see where the rest of the music was coming from, but it was just him, the violin and the bow.

Anyway, I pulled out a dollar and walked over to drop in into his violin case.  As I was doing so, I noticed a small sign in there that read, "Laid off".  I have to say that left me confused.  I wanted to pay him for his work, but now I seemed to have given him charity.  I'm sure if he was desperate enough to write the note, he would take his money anyway it came, but I couldn't help feel that a man with his talent would get more from passers-by paying for his music, than from giving for his condition.

On a more personal point, what does it say about me that his note took away some of my enjoyment of the moment?  I think it's because it changed our relationship from equals trading money for music, to him becoming a supplicant to my charity.  Am I hard-hearted because I don't like that, or not hard-hearted enough because I even notice it?