Divine Calling

Henry Cheng believes one thing: he is ordained by God to work as a canvasser.

Every morning he puts on his blue One Voice Fundraising shirt, khaki pants, beat-up brown sneakers, and a black cap on his head. Then, with his company’s tablet in his book bag, he rides the subway from Sunset Park, Brooklyn, to his designated street corner for the day. He then stands on that street corner, and for eight hours, with a smile on his face, tries to persuade strangers to donate to various causes.

At age 22, Henry is 5'9, medium built, with short dark hair, and a clean-shaven face. This job has been his calling since he was 15 when he first worked on the 31st State Senate District political campaign for Michael Lasher, going door to door, collecting signatures. Now while working at One Voice Fundraising, he solicits donations for three charities near to his heart—Humane Society, The International Rescue Committee, and Children's International.

Henry loves his employer, not just because of the good work they do, but because "they don't just care about the charity side, they also care about the workers." One Voice Fundraising, unlike many canvassing charities, does not force its canvassers to work on commission. Henry gets a base pay of $20/hour, much more than most canvassers ever make.

***

The Dance

Unlike Henry, when I did canvassing as a 23 year old, I hated it. It was during the winter and my coat wasn’t warm enough. People were always rude. I definitely did not feel I was ordained by God. But Henry, it seems, is a master at his job.

Once Henry is standing on his assigned street corner—often in the wealthier areas of Manhattan or Long Island— he starts employing his “tricks.” First, he studies his target's clothing. If they have on casual clothes, Henry moves on to the next person. (Though, he stops everyone on a slow day). If his targets have on “fancy” clothes or business suits, this means “disposable income.” This lets Henry know he can move to stage two: Saying “Hey.”

Charlie who worked with Henry one summer describes Henry as “childlike” during stage two of canvassing. Henry, Charlie said, wants to look as unintimidating and accessible as possible, so he always makes sure he’s clean shaven. He talks in a low voice and sounds “childlike” to not sound intimidating.

“It's like, 'Oh, who's this cute kid, like, clean shaven, no beard. What's he doing? What's he up to?' Henry has really allowed that to work in his favor.”

Henry always has a smile on his face, and he would position his body to the person before saying, “Hello,” so the person reacts to his body language. In canvassing, it’s all about the body language. Charlie says the rule is a canvasser always want to give approximately 20 feet of space between them and the person they are canvassing while saying the first “hello.” Then from there, the canvasser closes the gap by squaring up to make sure the person doesn’t walk past them.

“And there's a balance between like, you don't want to square up and be super intimidating. Because if you let them get too close, then it's like you're crazy. But if you give them space, it's very organic. And it's just like you're trying to get their attention. Henry is really good at squaring up.”

Henry usually says “Hey” with a compliment— “Your smile is as pretty as your coat.” If the person responds to Henry’s greetings with a smile or a laugh or by stopping, he moves to stage three: reciting his script. But if the person responds with a “No,”—depending on the type of no—he either let them leave or keeps pressing until they stop.

If a stranger responds with a “No,” with a deadpan look on their face, or starts speed walking, Henry knows that’s a “hard no.” But if he says “Hi” to someone and they say “No,” but with a smile on their face, this lets him know they are approachable.

Charlie describes Henry as very good at nonverbal communication once he starts reciting his script. He starts mirroring the person he’s canvassing. He smiles when they smile, nods when they nod, gestures when they gesture, all to appear non-threatening.

“Once you get into the pitch, it's really important that you stick to something that you know. There's the same script for everyone but there's different ways of delivering it. Henry is very concise, he makes sure to go fast enough where he has someone's attention, but not too fast, where he would be speaking over his words.”

While Charlie and Henry canvassed for the Humane Society together, Charlie noticed Henry was very good at persuading people, but without making them feel uncomfortable. Possible donors always raise the questions of already donating to another organization like ASPCA (American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals).

“He would say, ‘Oh, thanks for donating, they're a great organization, but we're working on changing legislation at the government level.’ And like, he has really good rebuttals, like he knows how to accept what people's reservations are, and to validate them.”

Unfortunately, Henry only gets to employ his persuasion talents on average 20 people out of the 100 he attempts to speak to each day.

***

When I sat down with Henry inside a cozy café in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, he made a point of telling me how great his current employer is and how much good they are doing in the world. During our interview, he also made a point of keeping eye contact with me every time he answered a question and mirroring my actions: when I put my hand on the table, he put his hand on the table. When I put my hand on my lap, he put his hands on his lap. When I smile, he smiles. I felt like he was canvassing me.

Who is the real Henry Cheng? I wrote in bold letters in my notebook. 

***

The Legacy

Henry's passion for change has a history behind it. Henry describes his young father back in China as someone who "was hot-blooded and ready to die for a cause." One day, when Henry's father, Shaosen, was working as an RA in a Tiananmen Square dorm, military tanks rolled in. Henry told me, his dad, who had been attending the protests for weeks, said he had a premonition that something terrible would happen on this specific day. So, he blocked the entrance and the exit to the dorms so that none of his students could go to the square.

"He saved a whole building full of kids that day," Henry told me. He had a look of awe on his face. "Growing up, you hear these kinds of stories of your parents standing up for important shit. And you're like, I'm so lucky to be here in America."

Shaosen immigrated to the US in the 1990s, before Henry was born. Henry describes his father now as a man with fierce eyebrows—thick ones that curl up on the ends—and a sweet smile. He is no longer the hot-blooded activist he used to be in his younger days. He now cautions Henry about having too much passion.

"How do you feel about your dad's past?" I asked Henry.

For the first time in our interview, Henry's eyes shifted from me; he looked slightly away and then looked back. He placed his hands on his lap, this time not mirroring me.

"There's an element where my dad inspires me, but I don't necessarily feel I have to live up to my dad's legacy," he said. He hesitated slightly before continuing. "But there's an element of, like, it's not so much me chasing my dad's glory, but rather, just chasing glory itself for the sake of chasing glory."

***

The Narcissist

Henry was raised with a competitive mindset. From a young age, his parents taught him that he was in competition with everyone around him. 

His parents, Henry said, came from poor backgrounds. As a child, his dad used to beg strangers on the street for food. Other times, he did go hungry. His mom was a little bit better, but not by much. She lived in a mud house. His parents had to beat out everybody in their local village to get into a college, where they were exposed to Western ideas and influence. So, a competitive mindset is all they know.

"If you want to succeed, there's a certain level of understanding that you are in competition with every human being around you. And if you don't understand that, if you don't internalize that, you're not going to be able to fight for yourself the best way that you can," Henry told me.

So, to Henry, the concept that anybody, from any social standing from any background, no matter what, can make something of themselves and can be an essential part of the community is something that is represented by his parents' story. "If you put in the hard work, you can be anything and anyone you want to be. And that's why I think I have defined a lot of myself based on my work."

Despite this competitive mindset, Henry has been trying to deviate from it. This is one of the reasons, he said, he went into canvassing. "I honestly try to force myself in the other direction of like, 'Okay, let's build community together.'"

By this point of the interview, Henry had loosened up. He talked freely about his life, and he laughed a lot. His answers to my questions weren't stiff and stoic anymore. Though he was still mirroring my actions, I didn't feel he was canvassing me anymore. 

"I'm just a very curious person," he said to me while shoving a French fry into his mouth. We were sharing a bowl of fries Henry had offered to pay for.

"But,” He continues, “sometimes I'm scared of interesting things. I guess if there's one through-line you can use to describe me is that I'm a narcissist."

"Why do you say that?" I asked tentatively, scared he would gloss over the question.

"Well, generally speaking, a lot of what I do is motivated by the innate feeling that I am supposed to be doing this. Like, it's almost heavenly. Like I am ordained by God to do this."

***

The Repenting

Charlie sees nothing wrong with Henry’s belief that he’s ordained by God to be a canvasser.

"Yeah, I think it's pretty admirable," Charlie said, "And I believe every word. I'm sure he's focused on meeting his quota, but like, he's doing that one person at a time and he's never losing track of the person he's talking to."

Though Charlie and Henry might feel this way, Henry’s dad feels otherwise. Shaosen Cheng supports his son but is worried about him. His dad believes blindly charging into anything is not a good idea. His dad, he said, "wants him to take a chill pill and learn to slow down. Try to plan things out a little bit more, and don't just go based off the passion."

Henry takes his dad’s advice seriously. Each day, in the middle of canvassing, Henry takes five to ten minutes out of his day to meditate. This helps him refocus whenever he’s having a bad day, when strangers are not stopping, or when he feels his job is getting too much.

"I mean, in some ways, I'm still trying to discover what my divine calling is. I am trying to figure out how I can best utilize my time on this earth to respect that call. I think it's also important for someone like me, who's naturally been more egotistical and self-centered, to try to really work in the other direction. And to focus a lot on how I can give myself to the community." 

When Henry was in sixth grade, he said he had to take an exam to get into a specialized school for intelligent children. Throughout the process of studying for the exam, he started mistreating his friends. He didn't want to be around his friends anymore because he thought they were dumb. They weren't on his level; he was moving up in life, so his friends didn't matter anymore. 

"Looking back on that kind of attitude--I severely dislike and hate that I acted in that manner," Henry said in quiet, sad voice.

But moments later, he piped up again and was more lighthearted. “I like canvassing and doing what I do because it's almost like a way of repenting for my sin of being egotistical. When I walk up to those pearly gates, I want to be like, hey, at least I tried. It’s funny because I’m not even religious." 

***

The Ambivalence

At this point in the interview, both Henry and I were now relaxed. He wasn't mirroring my actions anymore, and he didn't make it a point to keep eye contact with me at every moment. I got a cup of chai latte, and we continued sharing the bowl of fries and talked about our life decisions. I told him about my days canvassing and my hatred for the job. He found it funny but understandable.

As our interview ended, Henry wanted to make sure that I understood that though he feels like he is ordained for this job, he still has a love/hate relationship with his work. 

"When I'm on the street canvassing, and people are just walking straight through me or ignoring me when I try to talk to them, that's super annoying. It makes me feel like a ghost."

He was silent for a moment. "Especially," he resumed, "when I'm putting all this time into fighting for others. It feels like they don't acknowledge what I am doing and its importance. It doesn't feel good that some people don't even want to have that human connection."

Henry had stopped mirroring me entirely. He sat forward, put his hands on the table, looked to the side, looked back at me, and bobbed his head, trying to get me to understand. "Sometime in the future, I have to stop because it won't be good for me mentally. But until that day happens, I'm going to be a canvasser."