Homeless Man Now Taking Debit Cards

Story by Michael Todd 

| Published Dec 1, 2009

When it came time to diversify or die, Walter Wiggins knew just the way to go.

He went hard. Hard plastic.

Life on the streets has never been better.

“It gets ‘em every time,” Wiggins said, swiping a fan of debit cards. “People always used to give me this hangdog expression and say, ‘I don’t have any cash on me. Wah wah.’ Now I just tell them, ‘I’m a step ahead of you, pal. Pull out your plastic, or I’ll slice you.’”

The way he drives a hard bargain with customers is unflappable, and his cut-to-the-chase method has paid dividends, which have in turn allowed for a few upgrades.

To attract passersby, Wiggins has replaced his battered cardboard sign with a laminated piece of white paper inscribed with the phrase, “Give me your money, sir or ma'am,” in crisp helvetica font. He’s bought a trio of couches for anyone who pays $200 an hour to “Come on, relax with me, or I’ll slice you.”

And he’s also begun selling keychains, finger traps, bouncy balls, awareness-raising wrist bands and whatever else he can order in bulk from Oriental Trading. Wiggins' pitch is about 95 percent successful, and he tailors it to fit whoever crosses his path.

“Hey big spenders,” Wiggins said to a couple taking their 4-year-old girl to the Children’s Museum. “Have at look at these wrist bands. They’re to raise awareness for your little girl who won’t make it through the night if you don’t make a donation of $300 in my name.”

Over the past few weeks, asking for change with the aid of a debit card swiper has become a full-time job for Wiggins, and he would like to incorporate his enterprise by the end of this year. University of Nebraska-Lincoln economics professor Bud Schaefer praised Wiggins' undertaking at the corner of 14th and P streets, saying it breathes life into an ailing downtown district.

“Just last week, we were going to give the vagrants one-way bus tickets out of town," Schaefer said. "Now I’m bringing my class down for field trips to teach them about how to operate a firm. Go figure.”

Of course, Wiggins hasn’t put back every last dime earned from his bustling business into his bustling business. Part of his mission statement, listed on bottom of every receipt, is to strive to devote every tenth dollar of profit to booze, preferably the kind that comes in easily breakable glass bottles.

Some days are harder than others to adhere to that guideline, but catch Wiggins on a good day, and he might offer a sip of surplus bourbon if you're lucky.

“That’s worth half a grand,” Wiggins says. “Fork it over, or I’ll slice you.”