May 04, 2009

Some People Just Don't Get It, Another Craig's List Adventure

About five minutes after we dropped off the u-haul trailer, Lil called. She had seen an ad on Craig's List for a sleigh bed and dresser two counties away. The ad said they were moving today and to make an offer. Lil had called on it earlier and asked what price they were looking for and learned that they had had it listed for $800 because it was really nice furniture from The Room Store. At that name, I heard the faint tinkling of warning bells, but I dismissed them because $800 was so far out of range that I knew Lil wouldn't even consider it. She told the guy that her budget wouldn't allow anything over $400 and he politely said they would call her back if they reconsidered. Evidently they reconsidered about five minutes after we dropped off the trailer.

So we stopped by the house to pick up blankets and plastic wrap just in case this was the one, and headed out. Lil had given me the address which I figured was either an apartment or storage unit because it was on a busy street, but we couldn't find anything with that address. We pulled into a shopping center and I called the guy for better directions. He said it was at the intersection of where we were and the freeway, next to a gas station. Since I didn't see that gas station, I asked if it was on the northeast or northwest side of the intersection. A pause. He didn't know. The warning bells were getting louder.

We drove back to the intersection, found the gas station, and then the apartment complex. It was a gated complex and he had given us his passcode to get through the gate. I'm thinking this guy might not be the brightest bulb in the package, but hey, we were there and Hubby is a big guy and a brown belt, so we go downstairs to the apartment. He led us to the bedroom, which had the mini blinds closed and he turned on the ceiling light, all 40 watts of it. The dresser looked black, but when I got close, I could see a grain in it, so I asked what kind of wood it was, and he said black-brown. Uh huh. The warning bells are really loud now, but it's too late, we are there.

I asked if we could open the blinds to see it better. Ah, that's better. I see that the dresser top has the "black-brown" completely worn off the edges, and there is a big scrape on the top, as well as a corner broken off one drawer. It was a chunk about two by three inches, and under the black-brown was very white, soft wood. The guy thought the chunk was in the drawer and would be easy to fix. Why do they always say something is going to be easy to fix? If it was easy, why didn't they do it before listing it? So then we look at the headboard which has a gash in it revealing that it is made of particle board. Didn't bother to see if the "leather" was real.

The dresser is about three and a half feet tall and five feet wide. The headboard is about five feet tall, and connected to the footboard with rails. He mentioned that they were selling it because the bedroom in the apartment they were moving to was too small. Oh, and because it was heavy. Heavy? I asked. How heavy? Can your wife move it? No, she can help move it if all the drawers are out. I was already thinking Lil wouldn't want it because of the hunk out of the drawer, but this half of the Mom And Dad Moving Company wasn't having any part of moving a heavy piece of furniture UP stairs.

I don't have a poker face, and he must have sensed his sale evaporating, so he tried to clench the deal by telling us it was heavy because it was solid wood. Um, solid particle board says Hubby. Yeah, the guy beamed, it's made really well. I looked at the drawer corner and then looked back at his face. He was seriously deluded. As we left, we thanked him for his time and his passcode. Sure, no problem, he says. After we were back in the truck, Hubby wondered when he would realize he had given his passcode to strangers. I wondered if his wife knew he was home alone with a computer and what's left of their furniture.

Until next time, may you have blessings and furniture you can move by yourself,
Marti

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