When my husband is away on business over a weekend (in our neighborhood we get the collectors on weekends) we keep a cooler with sodas and snacks by the door; I or my children explain that we do not give money if our husband is not home (we do not say that he is out of town), but we offer them a cold drink in the summer and a snack; in the winter, we can offer them a coffee or tea in a paper cup with a lid. My husband used to make sandwiches for the Sunday collectors (even when he was home) but a meshulach who did not want to eat the sandwich (he did not eat from homes he did not know) took it (so we would not feel bad) and gave it to his driver, who later claimed that the left-over Shabbos deli made him sick. So we stopped making sandwiches.
We once had a meshulach who thought my husband was a goy, because he was painting the house that day and was wearing old work pants and a hat. The meshulach spoke very slowly in one-syllable words (my husband is very tan with dark hair, he looks Mexican) and using his hands a lot, and, like a lot of us do when we think someone cannot understand the language, we think they are deaf, too, so the meshulach was nearly shouting, “I WANT TO SPEAK WITH THE MAN OF THE HOUSE” and my husband said, “Yes,” and the meshulach continued, “TO ASK HIM FOR DOLLARS, DINERO, FOR POOR PEOPLE” and my husband said, “Yes,” “WHO DO NOT HAVE FOOD OR CLOTHES,” and my husband said, “Yes,” and took out his wallet and the meshulach, nebach, thought the day laborer was giving him money.