They didn't target me, instead zeroing in on a bloke in a long-sleeved shirt.
"Have you got a minute?" the smartly-attired female asked him.
"Nope, I'm on lunch break," the man quipped, rushing off with what appeared to be his lunch.
I have my reservations about such strategic positioning of collectors because I don't feel shoppers should be subjected to pangs of guilt if they decide not to commit to long-term pledges, even if donations are fully tax deductible.
I was tempted in both situations to suggest why not revisit their once generous backer, the Lotteries Grants Board, which decided to end its support of people with disabilities and instead stuck the funding nozzle into Team NZ's yachting fuel tank.
It got me wondering what this nation's mindset is when it comes to disabled athletes?
Oh, it's great to accord our Paralympians a rousing applause on their return from Rio with a 21-medal haul, which comfortably eclipsed the pre-games target of 18 and makes New Zealand No 1 per capita of this and the other.
But do we do it because we believe they truly deserve the accolade and respect or do we do it because it makes us feel good about ourselves and puts us on the global compassionate scale as a country that gives a damn.
For argument's sake, where would you place swimmer Sophie Pascoe's five gold medals alongside those of able-bodied Olympians?
At a time when just about every All Black is touted as among the best in the world during their purple patch, what chance has Pascoe or T44 400m Paralympics golden boy Liam Malone of standing alongside the likes of Beauden Barrett, or back-to-back Olympic gold medallist kayaker Lisa Carrington or former World No 1 female golfer Lydia Ko, for the annual Halberg Awards?
Some may see the disabled sportsperson of the year award as nothing but an escape clause for patronising Paralympians.
Others may argue it's not fair to even broach the subject because it's comparing apples with oranges.
Able-bodied athletes, they will point out, compete in a bigger and more intense field compared with Paralympians whose musters are smaller and offer a lower quality of rivalry.
Conversely, the disabled athletes' proponents will rebut that their delegation trains just as hard, if not more, than Olympians and world beaters.
Their disabilities make their achievements even more remarkable, considering those of Pascoe and Malone's category tend to compete in more than one race whereas most of their able-bodied counterparts focus on one event throughout the Olympics.
If numbers in a field is the game then where does shot putter Valerie Adams sit?
However, the Paralympics classification is under a cloud amid allegations that "cheating" is prevalent in the games.
Team Great Britain sprinters Bethany Woodward and 400m relay teammate Olivia Breen reportedly expressed dissatisfaction with the system.
Woodward, a London silver medallist who has cerebral palsy, withdrew after allegations that some squad members were wrongly classified thus improving their chances against more impaired competitors to clinch gold.
The respective authority accepted in Rio that "the complex system", which pairs like-for-like impairments into groups, offers athletes leeway to "inherently push the boundaries".
It called for tighter regulations for the disabled across all codes but insisted "cheating isn't endemic" among Paralympians.
But should this be treated as a reason in New Zealand to disqualify Paralympians' achievements for accolades on an even footing at the Halberg Awards?
In light of widespread exemptions via "TUEs" for able-bodied sportspeople to use banned substances for "therapeutic use", Paralympians trying to weasel their way into pole position for podium placings seems to pale in comparison.
It was great to see Nelson celebrate Malone's success and hand him a key to the city.
It brought back memories of Sholto Taylor, of Hastings, returning with bling as part of the Wheel Blacks team several years ago - but the then Hastings District Council was reluctant to host a dinner to salute his achievement.