Screwing Old Guys on Craigslist Over A Mirror

A few years ago my wife wanted a mirror for our place that was simple, elegant, and didn't carry a reflection of long-dead Pig War participants. She found one through West Elm ("World Market items at Masins prices!") and we ordered it and hung it up. It was/is a nice little piece. Rectangular, borderless, with a glass shelf in the lower-quarter of it. It's a nice addition to an entryway, bathroom, Swinger Shed, what-have-you. And after a few years and a move to-from California, we just don't have the place for it anymore. Couldn't garage-sell it, so we did the on-line garage sale that is Craigslist.

You can find anything on Craigslist, from pagan roommates with fish allergies to 18" rimz fo' yo' whip (that's a car, mom), to strangers who want to teach your kids stuff. I said "teach," not "touch," right? Okay, just checking. You can also find somebody to send 38 emails to about your desire to meet the right person just beforeyou bail on meeting somebody face-to-face, a key component of GETTING THE SEX. And you can find old people to screw for $20.

We tried to sell the mirror to a guy we'll call Smokey. He smokes a lot. I know because he had 2 packs of Liggett Red Kings of various fill in his Camaro. He dressed exclusively in black & white. His car is white with a black rag top, black & white steering wheel, white mods to the dash, etc. He wanted the white-backed mirror for his condo. I know because after we posted the mirror on Craigslist for $20 (it was $100 originally) he emailed saying he wanted it for his condo, which is all black and white and chrome, which is what he told me about his place. I went to meet him in public because you just don't let people know where you live, especially if you are going to screw them.

So I take this $100 mirror to a parking lot mid-way between our homes. He's inside the ROSS looking for something black and/or white and/0r chrome. He chooses this lifestyle. He comes out to meet me, tells me he doesn't get outta the house much because he's fighting cancer, hands me a $20 bill, and I carefully help him transfer the mirror to his Camaro, which I have already set the scene for. Cigarettes. Black & white (like the ashes of the cigarettes). Godspeed, Sir.

I get a voicemail 20minutes later saying this:
"Hey there GEOFF, this is Smokey, and boy you really pulled one over on me, boy. Good job there, Geoff. Yeah, this mirror's no good. Totally ruined. There's moisture behind it, probably been in a bathroom, it's junk. I'm trying to clean it up but I don't know. And there was a price tag on it for $15, so you got me good, but hey, YOU came out ahead $20, so there ya go."

1) I'm down $80 plus gas, I'm not ahead $20

2) No pre-inspection of the mirror in the parking lot, caveat emptor, this is a garage sale scenario

3) If you can see yourself in the $20 mirror, it's not ruined

4) It is never my intent to put the screws to somebody, that's bad karma, and worse when it's $20 off a guy who is battling cancer... AND SMOKING

5) Buyer's remorse/guilt can be easily swayed by spreading the blame around, just kick it right back to them and act very put-out

I need the karma more than the $20, and while I'm usually a "tough-love" kind of guy, I called the old cancer patient back and took his still-folded $20 back to meet him in the same parking lot. Anything that wastes my time pisses me off. Anything that takes away from my family or my happiness pisses me off. And this was doing both. So this self-weathered asshole was pissing me off. And he does this kind of thing because...

1) He has no family

2) He has no hobbies

3) He is bad with time management

When you're fighting cancer and have shit-else to do, save that time for something important like not thinking Craigslist is some kind of factory-direct shipping company catering to your every need for decor and/or ashtrays. Hell, don't even wait to get cancer, just act like that now, don't waste your time nor others, keep your ethics high, your expectations low-to-moderate, and you probably won't get cancer. Take a good long look in the mirror, Smokey.

How much more black & white can I get?

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Driving, Me Crazy

We have one car at the moment. It's not a new thing for us. We're not being self-righteous in our single car'edness. In Los Angeles we had one car that we scooted around in. It was convenient for both our budget and parking. This was before our son was born. This was before the demands of life as parents could really use both of us being auto-mobile. Times have changed. We got the one car, and it's a good car, and it's not a commuter, for the most part. Instead, I ride the bus to and from work on an almost daily basis. That's a travelogue for 5 other blogs, mostly centered around how being driven around is as liberating as it is lockdown. Being at the mercy of public transit's +/- 3minute "on time" plan isn't as fun as living with a bi-polar pitbull. Not that I'm calling out any of my ex-girlfriends. They probably all have their licenses by now.

I have the car today... Driving to work this morning was incredibly freeing for me. I've driven since I was 15 years old, most of the time, very well compared to those around me. I took the California written test without studying and got 34 of 36 CORRECT. I can drive. But it's amazing how the timing and judgment of the traffic flow can keep you on your toes, literally. The individual yet combined neuroses of a thousand drivers converging on a time-point preceding a dayjob really ought to result in far more violence. It's amazing that we're as calm as we are. The cars protect us from ourselves, I suppose. I imagine we'd all be road-tackling each other were it not for the amount of insurance paperwork and hassle required after a car accident.

And in driving to work I found myself riffing jokes from news stories, finding the humor in the relabeling of prostitution and how it objectifies both parties, and ripping farts like I was in the World Fart Championship Finals again. All things the bus frowns upon. Self-talk, prostitution, intelligent conversations. Farting, from what I can tell, gets a full GREENLIGHT on the bus. Welcome to the world's cultures in 9 miles, who likes curried broccoli and chickpeas?

In that 30minute commute I feel the drive defogged windows of my brain. Some wiper fluid and a few swipes opened a view of my mind I have been mostly unable to access during my 78minutes of commuting to and from work, listening to some guided meditation (Stop Caring Now!) or a Marc Maron WTF podcast. Accepting the responsibilities of car ownership at 37, yes, I will do it. I have perspective as my license to drive. And I'd like to smell only my own gas being burned. The American Dream; single-occupancy, single farter, single-minded.

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My Blog About My Dad


MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Commentator Tots

Dearest Reader,

For nearly a year, if not almost a year, I have had no Comments section.

It wasn't because I didn't care what you had to say. I did. I do. I did do. I done.

So, do. Comment, that is. Feel free now to hit the comments and fire one off to me. I had 'em blocked out because of the sp@mming that was going on in my comments section. Now, I work with somebody who is human spam, filling my airwaves with stuff I don't need to know.

Wow, would love to talk about it, but there's a proximity to work and blogging that shan't be breached, unless one blogs anonymously, like a giant nerdload.

So there ya go. What have you to say?

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

We Can All Agree On Food That's Free

In the kitchen at work, which has two vending machines and - if you're quick - a "surprise buffet" known as a refrigerator, there are some randomly-donated food items.

Somebody left a plastic freezer-bag full of "snack mix" on the counter for general consumption. Made almost entirely from cereal, it features multicolored rings of cereal, chex-type cereals, and cranberries.

Those dark spots are the cranberries. It's fuzzy because I was stifling a Vomiggle, a cross between throwing up and vomiting.
This picture was taken at 2pm. This bag's been countertopped since the morning.

Free Food.
Workplace.
No way should this have gone so long.

I work in a very diverse work environment, with people from as far away as Iowa. But this attempt at sharing should be pointed out as a shameful excuse for emptying the cupboards. Either somebody's kid is wondering where all the breakfast went, or somebody's kid just got their car-seat cleaned out.

Chex -like cereal, which I tend to love.
Frooty Loops, which I understand the appeal of.
Cranberries, fantastic through the mid 1990s before faltering around 1999. Did we have to let them linger?

So let me explain this to you, in case you're thinking of "brightening up" the workplace with a donation of free nibbles.

DO THE RIGHT THING...
Candy. Chocolate. Cake, Pre-Cut. Pizza, always good. Donuts will rocket you to sainthood in Accounts Payable.

Just a primer. People are pigs, they'll eat what's there even if you dropped a donut, sprinkles-down in baby diapers. Just run it under the Purell and eat up. Don't drop the randomly assembled burnt popcorn, lime Tootsie Rolls, and a barrette in the breakroom and then pat yourself on the ass for a job barely noticed.

What a shameful attempt at impromptu workplace catering. That second handful tasted terrible.

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My Blog About My Dad