An Open Letter to Craig's List Buyers

Dear Craig’s List Bike Buyer,

When I put my bike on Craig’s List for $50, $50 is what I meant. So when you emailed and offered $5, that was the first indication that we weren’t on the same page. When I told you that I had 4 other offers all willing to pay $50, you begged me to hold it for you and promised you would be right over to collect it, so I agreed. By “right over”, I thought you meant 20 minutes although I would have been ok with an hour – it is LA traffic after all. However four hours is stretching it a little - especially when you kept texting to say you were almost there. By “almost there”, I thought you meant, "almost there". And by “there”, I thought you meant, "here". Which you were not. Which I realized when you asked if I was anywhere near San Diego.

It is only your good luck that I am lazy and could not be bothered dealing with anyone else. So, I waited. When you finally arrived you texted me – “I’m here”. I wondered how to respond. “Congratulations” seemed insincere and not really warranted. Since you had my address, I presumed you would come to the door and knock. I was wrong. Because then I got another text to say that not only were you here but you were across the street in a white van and could I bring the bike over. No. I am not going to your shifty dodgy van so you can bundle me and my bike in and kidnap me. Even if you sent a ransom note and even if Albert could use an ATM and was allowed to cross the street on his own, I don’t even have any money so that was a terrible idea of yours. When I told you to come over and get it for yourself, your response of “...there’s no parking here after 8pm without a permit” seemed suspicious, although law-abiding. Which you are clearly not since you are a Craig's List bike-buying kidnapper.

After several more rounds of texting, we agreed that we would both come to my front porch at the same time. I brought the bike. You brought the $100 bill that you had no change for. Nor did I. Then you tried the old “I have is $30, will you take that?” trick. No. I’m sorry, did I mention what I do for a living? I don’t negotiate with anyone, let alone kidnapping Craig’s List bike-buyers.  So you left in your white kidnapping van to go get change.

I recall exactly when you returned because you texted me this cryptic message “I’m back. I’m parked across the street in a white van.” Bike is all yours - don't let me hear it was later used in a kidnapping...

Regards,

Karen (did you seriously think I would give you my real name? I know how this kidnapping gig works)

PS. You should have done your research – I bought that bike 6 years ago for $100. If my calculations are correct, I made an estimated profit of $1,034*

*Unlikely to be correct since there was long division involved and I forgot how to do that. Other factors taken into consideration during calculations included miles, depreciation, lack of usage appreciation, road taxes, capital expenditure (whatever that is) and the cost of the lock still stuck on the bike because I forgot the combination. 

SDC5FVRWP82G 

How To Have A Yard Sale

• Reflect on the need for a yard sale due to fact that landlord has sold house and you have to move. Think about a time in the future when you might not dwell on this.
• Start going through the belongings that you think you might be able to part with. Come to the conclusion that you absolutely need everything.
• Deny that you have a hoarding problem and prove it by agreeing to give up some things. Inventory your Nike’s and discover that you have around 80 pairs (give or take 40). Relinquish two. Annoying person mentions that you might have “issues” so you agree on 25 pairs which is not reasonable but you’re making a point. At all costs, make a point.

Small Selection...and point made

• Advertize on Craig’s List, make signs and illegally post them on power poles around the neighborhood.  Continue with inventory of other belongings that you think you might be able to part with. 

Hardly anything really, no hoarding issues here

• Schedule the start for 10am because you’re hungover from the farewell party from the night before because you have to move out of your house. In case that wasn’t clear.
• Get up at 6am. Decide that’s unnecessary. Get up again at 8am and start dragging tables out to lay the goods on. Prepare for every eventuality.
• Find self unprepared for the eventuality of an 8:05am van arrival that spills out an entire family that then cleans you out and is gone by 8:10am. Apparently Nike shoes/clothing, electronics and jeweler are hot ticket items.
• Put out remaining not-hot ticket items 

• Strap on fanny pack as a money belt. Remind self that “fanny pack” isn’t funny here in America and doesn’t mean the same thing. But still feel awkward putting cash in your fanny...pack
• Decide that yard sale is a bit boring after the initial excitement – get mug of sangria to keep you company. Make self feel better by establishing that you don’t have a hoarding problem. Just a drinking one. 

• Determine that it’s now official opening time so sit in deck chair and wait for the crowds.
• At 1pm, get up out of deck chair and officially close the yard sale
• At 1:05pm remind self that not everyone can read instructions because then you get swamped. By three people. Deal with them accordingly: 

Visitor 1: Very nice man with “Burbank” tattooed across his forehead. Give him whatever he wants (a lovely purse) without argument. Compliment his tattoo. He seems chuffed. And leaves without killing you. Successful transaction. Purse looks good on him.  "Dear Burbank forehead tattoo man, hope you don’t mind me writing about you. If you do, I still live at the same place where I had the yard sale"

Graphic representation of said tattoo. Not accurate or to scale. Slight misunderstanding of how it works when reflected back in the mirror. Also spacing issues. Have new respect for forehead tattooers.

Visitor 2: Neighbor from across the street – he doesn’t want to buy anything so you give him something to take with him. Note: Not how typical yard sale works.

Authentic velvet painting from India. Circa 2010. "Dear ex-room mate – sorry I gave away your gift. I tried to sell it but no luck. Thanks. I love it".

Visitor 3: Your now ex-landlord. You make him buy the swimming pool that you spent last summer in because he didn’t put air conditioning in your house. You bought it for $25 and you sell it for $20. And it has holes in it. Surprise. 

Apparently (according to picture on front of box) pool would best suit family of 5 who wish to swim laps in neck-high water. Simultaneously. Not my experience. "Dear Target, you lied".

You make over $400 which is just enough to pay the movers…"Dear ex-landlord, if you’re reading this; you probably feel quite bad right about now. Good. Sorry about the pool…"