You have parked yourself on the street, in different locations, including in front of the quonset hut, in front of the tienda, in front of the middle eastern café, since at least last Spring, and for, lo, these many months, I have refused to give you even a nickel, though I have attempted to exchange cordial words with you.
You see, in my world "change" is not "spare". In spite of my looks, age, and attire, I am not terribly well to do. So this evening when you, apparently devoid of either pattern recognition, memory, or both, asked me again for spare change and I again refused, and you then asked, "Have you ever heard of stereotyping?" I was momentarily dumbfounded.
But I will now say that you can stereotype me forever, but I will never be one of those dumbfucks who gives you "spare change".