I recently read in the daily paper of a lawsuit in which a man sued his barber to recover $4.75 obtained in just this way—the plaintiff being a deaf man. The justice decided against the barber on the ground that a man cannot legally be said to order a service unless he knows what it is going to be. So, score another for the deaf man.
This and similar experiences convinced my deaf friend that the road to affirmation is well lined with a group of citizens who do far more than hold out their hats for charity. No deaf man is safe on that highway. So he changed his method and shook his head at all questions. He said that experience had convinced him that at best this is a selfish world, and most men approached him seeking some advantage rather than offering service: therefore a general negative was the best policy. Shortly after making this decision he attended a reception at a wealthy man’s country home. At one stage of the proceedings the men were all invited into a side room, where a very dignified butler marched about and whispered to each guest in turn. My friend ran true to form and shook his head. In a short time a fine drink was served to everyone except himself.
As his affliction progresses, the deaf man learns frankly to admit his inability to hear. This turns out to be a remarkably effective way to separate the sheep from the goats, for most people will never go to the trouble of making us understand unless they have some really important message to deliver. Whenever we owe money, we find that our creditors are quite able to communicate with us; would that our debtors were equally insistent! Now and then comes a man who feels the tremendous importance of his message, although no one else recognizes it. He looks upon the deaf man as his select audience, and after giving us an agonizing half-hour, he goes on his way, pluming himself on the kindly deed he has performed in helping the neglected deaf man to valuable information!
I once lived in a little Southern town where the man who kept the livery stable was quite deaf. He was popularly known as a “near” man, “so close you could see him.” “The only thing he could hear was the clink of money in his pocket.” The men who worked for him often had trouble getting their money. One day his stableman, Ben Adams, colored, approached the boss and screamed in his ear: