For almost two years, I volunteered as a Samaritan. http://www.samaritans.org/ The one thing I noticed was that most volunteers became two-faced after being exposed to the types of people who called to add a little excitement in their lives. The game was ‘bait the Samaritan’ and see if they’d bite.
I wrote this poem, splitting it into two parts: the Samaritan face; and the personal face.
The Samaritan Complex
No one to turn to? Nobody listens?
Either they hate you or don’t understand:
Even a criminal can take the stand;
Don’t they know that you’re like gold that glistens?
Tell me your troubles, lay them to one side:
Only a sensitive’s enough for you;
Because I can see from your point of view,
Each moment I help you increases my pride…
Not him again! Why is he feeling sad?
Even if he’s suicidal, no way!
Ev’rytime he calls, I start my shaking.
Doesn’t he know he’s despicably bad?
Either he stops or I’m going to say,
Don’t ring me again; I’ve stopped my faking…