Present Imperfect

Feedback's Bad | May 16, 2005

First of all, let me offer this word of advice: Never eBay drunk. Sometimes you come out okay, maybe even with a nice messenger bag or a first edition of a British literary mystery that nobody but you read. But sometimes, you just get tooled.

See, I bought this denim jacket on eBay about three weeks ago. I was three-quarters of a bottle of vin rouge into my eighty-seventh viewing of Buffy season six and decided I really needed this stupid puffy-sleeved number because it sort of resembled the one Dark Willow wears when... Okay, um, never mind. I know everybody loves a geeky lush with a Joss Whedon fetish and an online shopping habit, but I just came dangerously close to blogging about how I teared up a little when I saw the Serenity trailer.

Oops...shit.

Anyway, when this theoretically awesome jacket had not arrived after a week, I emailed the seller to ask when the crap she was going to send it. Naturally, I made sure the email was unassuming and brief, carefully crafting it to mimic the conversational style one might employ at a cocktail party: “Ha HA! How very droll. And when will you send this jacket? Just curious.”

This is what I got in reply:

Hi I was just going to email this evening because I need to apologize for the delay in shipping out your item. Our Son [sic; unless he is, in fact, the Messiah.* In which case...my bad!] had an asthma attack and I spent the last week mainly at the hospital. Everything was sort of put on the back burner and I’m sorry that I didn’t get it out sooner. Everything has now settled down and my Son is home and doing well. I did send it out to you a few days ago and you should have it shortly. Please accept my sincere apology. Thank you, TotallyTMI (screename changed to make this slightly funnier)

Okay, that’s cool. Life happens. I wrote a once-sentence email back saying it was no biggie, that I have asthma, too, and that it must suck for her kid. Which prompted this:

Thanks so much, you obviously understand what it’s like. My Son is 11 and has been hospitalized twice in his life due to this. It’s so strange because 99% of the time, he doesn’t even need his puffer, it’s like he doesn’t even have it. Then both times, last time being 2 years ago, it comes out of nowhere without warning and we’re rushing him to the hospital. The stay has been over a week each time,not allowing him to leave until his lung air capacity has built up enough. My only hope is that the doctors are right and he will outgrow it. I really do appreciate your patience and understanding. Sincerely, OMGWTMFI

But here’s the bestest part: The jacket arrived Thursday, and it reeks of smoke.

Ridiculously, I emailed the seller to say as much whilst ever-so subtly inquiring how the fuck someone whose son has been hospitalized twice for asthma attacks could possibly smoke in the house, much less send out their smoke-ass smelling shit to people who pay for it. Way-too-long story a bit shorter: I got $15 back to pay for the cleaning. How magnanimous! I’m still reporting them to social services.

Two completely unrelated items:
1. Read Kazuo Ishiguro’s latest novel Never Let Me Go immediately. It should have been called Never Put Me Down.
2. Give this a try and see if you wind up with a feeling of satisfaction rapidly followed by the disappointing sensation that you are nothing more than The Man’s bitch.

*Okay, normally, I don’t like to go all footnotey on your asses, but recently I wondered aloud if all the dead left behind after the Rapture would be zombies. Because, hey! Awesome movie idea!