So a few weeks ago, I spy this super cute dresser/end table on Craigslist for $50. I call the guy selling it to find out a little bit about the piece and decide that I want it. It’s sturdy, wood and well-made. Perfect!
The seller and I live about 40 minutes away from one another….but he is generous enough to meet me half way to “make the exchange”, so I set up a time to meet that afternoon.
But before I can leave my house, a police officer friend of ours pulls up to say hello. As the neighbors gawk at the squad car in our driveway, we chit chat for a minute until I announce that I have to leave to make a Craigslist purchase.
“Where are you meeting the seller ?” our police friend asks.
“In a McDonald’s parking lot” I answer proudly (it’s a public place….I have been dumb enough to go into homes before).
“No, no, no!!!” he says…..”people get KILLED in McDonald’s parking lots”. He is shaking his head at me as tho’ I should know better.
“Where do I meet him then?” I ask, proudness deflating.
“You need to insist he meet you in a police station parking lot” he says. And goes on to tell me that if people are on the “up and up”, they will have no issue meeting me at a police station.
Well, the seller of the endtable and I had already played phone tag a dozen times that day. I had already switched the time on him once ‘cuz I am flaky like that. And now I was running late ‘cuz I was getting the crapola scared out of me by my cop friend!!!!!!
So I tell my hubby to say a prayer, jump in the truck and I race to the McDonalds with a stomach ache.
I text my husband and let him know when I am there and to call 911 if he can’t reach me in 10 minutes.
At first I see no “man in a white truck”. Of course, at this point I am scouting for a serial killer so I could have easily missed him.
I wait. I wait. I see a man walking nonchalantly to a white truck. Could be him. The nonchalantness could definitely be saying “serial killer”.
He is glancing around for me. Crap it’s him. I have the cash. I want the dresser. So, I get out with my cell phone in hand wondering if I am gonna have to help him load this heavy piece into the back of my truck. I just wanted out of there before I was mince meat.
He sees me. He smiles. He is reaching to get something out of the FRONT of his truck. Could be an ax. OMGosh….it’s my endtable “thing”.
My ‘lil heart was crushed. This big ‘ole burly man is carrying this tiny, weeny table.
It’s like dollhouse furniture size. Or little people-sized. Or Ava-sized.
I am certain he will kill me if I protest that “OBJECTS ON FACEBOOK ARE NOT WHAT THEY APPEAR”.
So I hand him my cash. $50 for doll furniture. I wanted to cry. At this point I would have tipped him just to make it out alive.
I call my husband and forewarn him he just needs to be happy I am coming home.
Next time we meet in a police station.
Get some painted furniture ideas on my Painted Furniture Pinterest board