Craigslist tests my social anxiety (I have to pick up the phone?!) and paranoia (are they going to mug me?! tie me up and throw me in their trunk?!) but also feeds my addiction to bargain-hunting and thrifting. Only in my post-grad life would I have the time to actually leaf through racks and webpages to find buried, cheap treasure.
I was off of it for a good couple years: either I was too busy to be browsing, or I got the idea that Craigslist was too seedy an operation, or both. The last memorable transaction outside this summer was in 2008, when I started interning at International Action. I ended up interning there for 2 summers; it profoundly changed the way I thought about my education (and my career outlook); I made some great friends; and I still try to keep in touch with the staff there. That should have been testimony enough, right?
I wouldn't have went through the Craigslist gateway, if it wasn't for my friend asking for a favor...
The green couch-y chaise with cat hair all over it, picked up for friend
It was a pick-up for a friend who'd just moved into a new place and was looking for a chaise for her reading corner. My sister and I had the large vehicle and the time, so we agreed to pick it up. In retrospect, I don't know why I wasn't more apprehensive about picking it up... we just printed out directions to some random house in Herndon and were on our way, without thinking about what kind of neighborhood we were going to or if we'd have to go inside the house. (Now, I always try to have a non-residential pick-up location).
The woman (Kate?) sounded pretty harmless on the phone. Forgetting the $50 we were supposed to bring to pay her, I asked her where the nearest bank or ATM was. She had to ask her male companion for directions. I imagined her to be a 20-something living with her husband or boyfriend in a small townhouse or apartment.
We drove up to a humble single-family home, and in the doorway was framed a plump, middle-aged mom and her fit husband picking up their daughter to get out of the way, a curious cat in the background. This is how you disarm yourself to buyers, Joanne noted. Family. Young children. Noted. I noticed little sneakers in the hallway so it didn't seem like the kid was there slap-dash against her will. I told this to myself when the man told me that the chaise was downstairs in the basement.
When we were in the basement, he pointed to the small, seemingly empty laundry room and told us it was "in there," without actually going "in there" himself. I braced myself with an over-chipper optimism, hoping there wasn't some cage in there and that he wasn't going to slam the door and lock us in.
No worries--the chaise was there. It was about three times bigger and poofier than I thought it would be and was a pain to get through the door and the stairs up to the front door. I remember hugging the chaise and thinking I was doing most of the work: the man looked like he was really exerting himself to help us out, which surprised me, well, because I'm a girl? Stereotypes.
It wasn't until about 10 minutes later that I realized my neck and the side of my face was red and itchy. Effing. Cat. Hair. I was furious. For the drop-off I made Joanne move the bulk of the thing, I was so irritated.
A warning would have been nice, Craigslister. And a $5 tip for having to haul the cat-hairy thing out of the basement.
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