Debt Collecting

There’s not much not to love about Helsinki during the warmer months BUT for the swarms of mosquitos and charity collectors.

The mozzies can be repelled with a tropical strength spray, the dreadlocked logo-wearing T-shirted hippies cannot.

Unavoidable, they hover around busy pedestrian thoroughfares, favouring the downtown shopping area of Kamppi.

“Save the children, save the whales, save the planet, save yourself Scientology style … ” so they tell me.

Now don’t get me wrong I’m no scrooge. I donate time and money to numerous causes of my own choosing – most recently my voluntary conscription in Finland.

But I JUST DON’T, AND WON’T, FEEL CHARITABLE when repeatedly bombarded for money and credit card details en route to the grocery store.

Particularly knowing that some of the collectors are themselves collecting an hourly rate, plus commission, that dwarfs my 4 .7 euro daily army allowance*.

So you can imagine my surprise when I found out that I was to spend a day in their shoes, pounding the pavement collecting money for war veterans.

A worthy cause no argument, and I too am to be a veteran of The End War* but people pestering is not my thing

Not even with the lure of free movie tickets to the conscript with the highest kitty of the day.

I wanted out, but there was no escape for me.

Nor for the public, who were facing an army of khaki clad collectors strategically positioned around every corner, nook and cranny of the city.

To make the best of this lose-lose situation I decided I wouldn’t approach anyone for money, rattle my can and beg, or block the path of passers by.

I would find a leafy tree, stand next to it, and camouflage into my surroundings.

I would also be mute, directing any questions to the blurb of information stuck to the side of my electric kettle-shaped tin.

This foolproof strategy of stealth began to unravel even before I got to my post on the swanky side of town.

A middle-aged American man approached me at the zebra crossing with spare change in his outstretched hand

His charity, I quickly discovered, wasn’t for the veterans but payment for a photo he wanted of me in my uniform*.

Before I had time to react, his camera, and the little green traffic light man, flashed and the freak show official had begun.

I was the opening act of the show that was to feature a cat lady, a suspected criminal, toothless drunk and the teenage Insane Clown Posse.

All played out on the pavement in front of an inner city McDonalds where I would be standing for most of the day.

First up, entering stage left, the crazy cat lady who smelled like cats and mothballs.

She hobbled out of the op shop and over to me, rummaging through her handbag.

Finally she found her purse and started rummaging through it.

Papers, receipts, old photographs, buttons – everything but the money.

At last she found a coin, proudly placed it in my tin, whilst mumbling on about some “kitty, kitty, kitty”.

I thought she was talking about, or possibly to, a cat but later found out she was simply thanking me with a shortened version of kiitos (key toss) which means thank you in Finnish.

As she hobbled off stage right I spotted a familiar face out the corner of my eye.

Well, it was the long blonde Salon Selective style ponytail that I recognised.

It belonged to a young man, no more than 30, who I had seen wearing punked-up civilian clothes at our army barracks that very same week.

He appeared to have been on the receiving end of a very stern talking to by one of our senior sergeants at the time.

Rumours, as always on barracks, were rife. The story I got was that he had been arrested disembarking a flight from New York and taken to Santahamina.

His crime? AWOL and according to the conscripts’ guide a serious military crime (along with sleeping on guard duty which I may or may not have committed.)

His punishment? According to the Conscription Act, 182 days jail for failing to undertake military or civil service*

I’m not sure if he recognised me, but I’m sure he recognised my uniform.

My military fatigues were also recognized by a group of intoxicated teens that were dressed as playboy bunnies, policeman, punks, prostitutes and prisoners.

It was some sort of graduation dress-up party for vocational students, and apparently I too was on the invite list.

I politely declined their offer to party in the park nearby, and the dregs of one beer can also on offer.

Maybe I should have followed the teenage Insane Clown Posse because I was soon facing another drunken proposition that I was desperate to decline.

An old toothless drunk, barely comprehensible, came up to me declaring his eternal love – I think.

He figured the best way to prove it was with a copper coin donation, and his company.

Thankfully he became distracted by something else he wanted to pick up – an empty beer can worth three times his donation to me*.

It was a good time for my Mcbreak inside the McDonald’s.

As I ordered my 1-euro cheeseburger I noticed a pile of creationist pamphlets sitting on the counter telling me that god was watching

He/she/the flying spaghetti monster/ wasn’t the only one. A group of sergeants were brunching away on burgers at a nearby table.

They were also trying to stay under the radar as they visited numerous McDonald’s and the movie theatre throughout the day.

Granted, my tree didn’t offer as much cover as the cinema but I had done my community service, raising almost 20 euros for the vets.

That didn’t equate to the free movie tickets, which went to the bubbly American conscript who loudly approached every person on his patch.

Followed closely by the guys who stood by an ATM at one of the big banks all day.

I guess they proved that pester power does pay, if you are willing to make enemies like me along the way.

Sgt. (Street walking) Sana.

• Male conscripts earn 4.4 euros per day during the first six months of conscription. Women receive slightly higher rate 4.7 euros per day, to compensate for personal items like undies.  The male allowance jumps to 7.7 euros per day between 7 to 9 months of service and increases again to 10.20 euros per day between 10 and 12 months.

• The End War is the final training camp where battalions from around Finland come together over a large stretch of forest and battle it out over seven days. Adjudicators decide ‘who dies’ aided by state-of-the-art laser suit systems.

• It is a real novelty for people in Finland to see women in uniform, particularly if it is a green one. People stare, point and whisper whenever you are in public, and the brave will approach for a photo. Want to feel like a B-list celebrity? Join the Finnish army as a woman!

• I am not sure how many Finns choose jail instead of military service each year. The army however is a lot like jail except you have a gun. Inmates also receive higher daily allowances than conscripts and a better diet.

• Recycling is serious business in Finland. Cans and plastic bottles are worth up to 40-euro cents each when recycled at any supermarket or bottle-o. Brilliant! Particularly if you have thrown the house party, because the day after you are a tenner up on the night before.