Mr. Toad or I Just Really Don't Brook Any Bullshit

My mister got this for me via craigslist yesterday. Do you see why I love him? I also love this Mr. Toad planter/ birdbath/ not quite sure what. (If you have any suggestions for its use, please do comment. I freakin' love comments). I also love straightforward transactions like this one. Phone call, set up meeting place, bring money and done. Easy, everybody's happy.

Generally I like craigs a lot, but once in a while you have to deal with really obnoxious people. Case in point: I got a small vacuum for quick clean up stuff. Too small, as it turns out, what with all the Monster fur around here. So I decided to sell it on craigs. A woman emailed me expressing interest. Let's just call her Jerkettina. I sent her my phone number to set up a time and give her directions. Straightforward, right? But nooooooooooooo. Jerkettina wants to take the circuitous route to the stupid little vacuum via a series of emails. I won't bore you by reproducing all of them in full here. In sum, she finally suggested that she and her supervisor stop by Saturday with the kids they work with. [Insert deep breath here. Getting angry again just typing about it].

Here is what I wanted to write back to her:

Dear Jerkettina,

I am not a goddamn store. I am not a public park. I am NOT a fucking FIELD TRIP. "Kids that you work with" huh? Let me see now... what sorts of kids need workers? Three sorts come to mind: physically disabled, mentally disabled and emotionally disturbed.* Or perhaps your group is criminally insane. Who's to say? Well, Jerkettina, we don't carry insurance for that sort of thing. And you're an asshole for A) having the gall to presume that it's okay to suggest such a thing and B) for not at least even ASKING me if that would be okay. Do not ever contact me again. You don't deserve vacuums.

Sincerely,
You're such a jerk.

*Disclaimer: I have no problem with any of the above populations, but this is private property. I get to choose who visits. I couldn't help but picture these kids tromping all over my flower beds wrecking shit. I don't hate children. I just don't host field trips for unknown populations. I already had an adult with a dog wreck my front poppies this year but if I start writing about that too, I will totally blow my top.

Here is what I actually wrote back to her:

Dear Jerkettina,

There is poison ivy and well construction on the property. It is not suitable for children. Please do NOT bring them.

Sincerely,
You really ARE a jerk.

Okay, the well construction thing is a total lie, but I wanted to give her nightmare images of things like Baby Jessica. There's enough of a mess left from last year's attempt at drilling a new well that city folk would find it believable. Anyway, that's pretty clear, right? Apparently not. She writes back: "The children are all over the age of 16, so that's not going to be a concern."

[Insert another deep breath]. Now at this point, she still doesn't have my address, thank God. I knew not to respond right away to this woman who refuses to acknowledge the word "no," since at this point, I wanted to reach through the computer screen, wring her neck and yell at her for 20 minutes about basic courtesy and social skills. I am no longer capable of being polite and I do actually like to be polite to people. After letting it sit for a while I decided it would be best for all parties if I just didn't respond at all and pulled the ad. I am so done with Jerkettina. Thankfully toad planter selling lady restored my faith in craigslist transactions.

I've still got the vacuum and as it turns out, it'd be perfect for my lovely friend's camper. If Jerkettina contacts me again (and she hasn't since late last week), I will honestly be able to tell her that the vacuum is no longer available. I will refrain from telling her to suck it (pun intended, so sorry).

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener. Normally Angry Gardener buries her rage at the base of perennials. It's excellent fertilizer!

PS: I don't think Jerkettina ought to be working with children. She strikes me as a poor role model.