Do I Look Homeless?

Yesterday, at my day job as a factotum, I was oiling some teak furniture for a restaurant in perhaps the poshest shopping center in the upscalest section of this suburban county when I heard a voice, “Excuse me. Sir. Excuse me.”
“Hi, yes?” The speaker was a young woman, attractive, black hair, black framed glasses.
“Would you like this?” she hand me a 10oz dark brown plastic container printed with a list of all sorts of organic sounding ingredients. I was confused as to what I should do with it. Was it something I should apply to the wood?
“What’s this? Is it a sample?” Was she trying to sell me something?
“No, it’s a smoothie.”
I knew I didn’t want to buy it, so I extracted myself as gracefully as I could, “Oh, I don’t drink that sort of thing.”
“No, go ahead, take it. You’re working.”
“No, thank you, really.”
She paused and thought for a moment. “Do you like grilled cheese?”
Weird question to ask a stranger, but, “Of course, doesn’t everyone?”
She dug through a paper bag from one of the shops there and brought out a packaged grilled cheese sandwich and we had the same conversation, her trying to get me to take it, me trying to refuse as politely as possible. I finally asked, “Why do you want me to take it?”
“Because you’re working and I’m not.”
That logic totally befuddled me, but I let it go. “Why aren’t you working?”
“I’m too young.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen. Please take this. If you don’t I’ll just leave it here.”
“I can’t stop you from leaving it here, but please don’t, I”m not hungry. This is a restaurant and they feed me quite well.”
“Well, Okay.”
“Look, you’re very sweet, don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Okay, bye.” She put the grilled cheese back in the bag and walked off.
I’m still puzzled over why she thought to try and feed me. I don’t think I looked homeless, although, in that neighborhood, she may not encounter many poor people. I’m not thin, looking like I need something to eat. I have a goatee, but it’s trimmed and I was shaved. I’ve racked my brain trying to find the motive, and I can only figure that she thought I needed something to eat and did something about it.
So don’t bash millennials.