Reactionary

I’m not a delusional Pollyanna who believes anything anyone does that’s unpleasant is just some way a result of their being misunderstood, but the pat few days I’ve been exposed to the greatest show of rudeness I’ve ever witnessed in my life. This is what happened.

Now, I’m moving. My current CRT TV set is too big a form factor for the new apartment due to its open layout. To not have to deal with eBay and shipments and payments, I decided to give it away. I read about FreeCycle in a magazine at the gym some months ago. For those of you who haven’t heard of it, FreeCycle is like Craigslist except money doesn’t get exchanged. You post something you want and someone matches you or post something you want to get rid of and someone who wants it will get back to you.

So, I posted the television. I described it, indicated that my remote doesn’t work, and waited. It wasn’t much longer that I had about thirty responses, all of eager people all too happy to take it off my hands. Web etiquette dictates that first come is first served, at least it was in my salad days. I posted a note that it had been taken and replied to the first comer. Actually, I called her since she had sent me her number. It sounded like an older woman, but whatever. Getting it out of here is on her, right? I set up a time for pickup on Friday at 10AM and bolted off to work on my NaNoWriMo novel at a coffee shop.

Friday came. I made oatmeal and read The Daily Beast and waited. And waited. I had given this woman my number in case of anything, for the record. It was now 11AM, and not a word. I broke down and called her. This was the conversation:

Me: This is Me from FreeCycle. I had that TV. Are you on your way? (cuz I totally get if you’re stuck in traffic)

Woman: Um, yeah. I’m having a hard time getting down there today. Can I pick it up tomorrow?

Me: (grrr) Fine (even though it wasn’t cuz I’d already wasted time that morning and Saturday I had to meet with a friend in the morning). Same time?

Woman: Yes.

Me: Okay. See you tomorrow.

Evening came and morning followed and what do you know. Same damn story, except this time I waited until 1115 before I called her.

Me: What happened? Are you coming?

Woman: I couldn’t find your house so I went home.

You went HOME? You just ditched the idea and went home because you couldn’t find my domicile? You didn’t bother calling to let me know you were lost or late or whatever. WHY? I’m sure you have all day to hang around your house babysitting a TV but I certainly don’t. Neither am I clairvoyant. Lucky you if you are. Please consider us mere mortals next time.

I cursed her to the ninth generation. Not AT her, but at my white walls. Maybe she thought I was a store and her position as customer entitled her to be as late as she chose? Utterly unacceptable. I went back to Gmail and mailed the next two arrivals in the queue. I gave them 24 hours to get back to me. I’m still waiting, folks. 48 hours later.

Last night, I e-mailed another two. No answers by this morning. Incensed now, I went to the seventh reply and this time the person had included a cell phone number. I texted her. She replied back within minutes. Wonder of wonders. She asked if she could get it tomorrow. I told her very truthfully I’m moving tomorrow (if all goes well, if not, I’m homeless but I digress). So, she said, her brother could get it today at 630pm. Great.

I, a ragged tangle of nerves, badly needed to get out of the house so that being fixed, I grabbed my laptop and went to work on my NaNo novel. I stopped at the market because my delusions of grandeur to make food for the Thanksgiving shift are merely delusions. Even I can’t make a meal while moving. I hate to concede defeat but there it is. I wanted to go to the gym, but it was getting close to 6pm. I went home and sat around to wait. And once again, I waited. Much like God rested on the seventh day, except I waited, not rested. I called the brother’s cellphone. No answer. I feel stupid leaving a message on someone’s phone who I don’t know but what was to be done. I left a message. Nothing. I looked out the window. No traffic by Center City standards. I sent the woman (the sister) a text. I sent her an e-mail. Folks, I’m still waiting.

I only have a couple of explanations. TVs in homes really are a necessity to modern American lives and these people, without one (or without enough), ran out of time and expired. All at once. Right when I was giving one away. Or TVs are suddenly out of style and we now get signals in our bathroom mirrors. I missed that memo. How unAmerican of me. Or these jerkoffs, all seven (or eight if you count the brother) are incredibly rude. No regard for my time or life or expectations or anything. I would never, NEVER not call if I was late or if my plans changed. I wouldn’t even dream of it. How do seven (eight) people live with themselves. What’s so shocking is that all of them absolutely failed at common decency. That’s 100% of the people I contacted. It’s one thing if there were one bad apple. But ALL of them didn’t bother to tell me anything. Sending phantom replies that they wanted my TV was as far as they were willing to go. Maybe they were disapponted I wasn’t offering white glove delivery and a year of paid Comcast to go with the free TV.

I’m nearly speechless.

I’m giving the TV to the guy who’s moving into this apartment next. He’s in a corporate now and doesn’t have anything. This will bother me for a long time, though. I don’t consider courtesy calls to be quaint at all. What’s wrong with people? This same bunch would probably watch you get ripped to shreds by a mugger on the street, too. 

Dear all of you, I hope you all get the bird flu and die.

Posted on November 25th, 2008 under Life, Rant •  Print •  Email • RSS 2.0 feed • Leave a response, or trackback