Disenchantment isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.

Strangest thing happened last night on the way to the market. As I was walking into our neighborhood Safeway, a man selling the Street Scene outside asked for donation. I replied, "Sorry" since I normally don't like giving out money to people on the street. But taking two more, I turned around and asked the man, if he would like something to eat from the store. He replied "Oh, thank you, brother. That would be wonderful. Could you please get me some chicken strips from the Deli." He paused and then added, "But, you know, if they don't have chicken strips, could you please buy me some macaroni salad." I nodded and walked into the market. Along with my grocery, I picked up the man's Pesto Macaroni Salad from the Deli and feeling somewhat proud of my good Samaritan gesture to a stranger on the street, I decided to pick up a bottle of orange juice and a Crunch chocolate bar for a small desert after his dinner. At the check out line, as I watched the check-out girl put each of these items in a plastic bag, I thought about the 1-minute communtity service that awaited me outside the market and imagined the smile on the man's face when I hand him the chocolate bar and say, "And this is a small desert. Might as well enjoy a full meal. Have a wonderful evening." And, how he would be so happy that someone cares and how I would be happy that I made a difference - even if it meant only a night's meal. Well, such was not the outcome. I exited the store and the man was nowhere to be found. Street Scene and all, he was gone. I waited for a few minutes, disappointed, as my good Samaritan heart sunk in the cold, cold night. With no sign of the stranger's reappearance at the scene, I began to walk to my car. At the parking lot, another homeless man stopped me and asked "Spare some change, please?" I replied my usual "Sorry." And then, "But I do have some food I just bought. Would you like some." Somewhat interested, he leaned forward to peer into my grocery bag as I pulled out the Pesto Macaroni Salad and said "Would you like this? It's a Pesto Macaroni Salad." This time, it seemed like his heart sunk as his expression turned from one of hope to one of disappointment, and he said "Nah..." and walked away. I put the salad back into the bag and continued to walk towards my car. I couldn't help but question: What went wrong though the course of the night? Who knows. I'm currently reading Choke by Chuck Palahniuk (link) and as he would say following an experience, "Disenchantment isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind."