It's around midnight, the house is quiet and I'm feeling quite
fortunate. Yes
fortunate, despite the fact that I'm totally pissed off by a rather incredible encounter I had this evening with a collector of
World War II memorabilia.
Here's what happened:
Do you remember several posts ago, I told you about how sometimes people leave items behind when they sell me their houses and move on? Well, about 15 years ago, we bought a house with A LOT of stuff left in it. we sold most of that stuff in an estate/garage sale but kept some items that we felt might be worthy of further research to determine monetary and/or historical values. Included in that "further research" group were some historic documents, photographs and photographic negatives of specific goings-on in
World War II Germany.
Fast forward to about a few weeks ago. I read somewhere that we should check our spare change jars because some old pennies with certain dates could be worth hundreds, even thousands, of dollars. This prompted me to sort through all my old, circulated wheat pennies to see if I was rich. I would like to be rich.
After sorting and cataloging pennies for about a week, I found that I had a few of those valuable coins! WOW! Now, condition issues mean that I'm not exactly rich, but WOW anyway!
So, I found this guy on Craig's List who asked for pictures and dates of the coins. Then he asked me if I had anything else I might be interested in selling, particularly
World War II memorabilia.
Aha! "Why yes I do", I replied.
After explaining to him what I have, he says he knows a guy who happens to be a leading
WWII expert and author who is currently writing a book on the very subject my documentation covers. Cool, I think, and tell him to give out my number.
Now, this guy, we'll call him Mr.
Ass, calls me and after drilling me about exactly what I have, we make plans to meet at my house. He seems really interested. I'm excited (silly me).
Later this evening, Mr.
Ass arrives (about 20 minutes late, no less) with his meek, "no-you-can't-take-my-coat, I'm-not-going-to-tell-you-my-name-unless-you-drag-it-out-of-me, no-I-don't-want-anything-to-drink" wife. She works at the zoo. Animals are her friends.
Anyway, I show him an item that is partially wrapped in very old cloth with very old handwriting on it. Of course this "expert" grabs the item by putting his entire, sweaty hand right around the cloth!
OMG! I take a deep breath and, as politely as I can, ask him to move his hand from the cloth. He complies and we move on. WHEW!
Next, he rummages through the photographs and reads what's written on the envelopes holding the photographic negatives. He doesn't seem too interested in the first-hand documentation he originally said he was coming to see. Then Mr.
Ass looks through a folder containing miscellaneous ephemera, like discharge documents, letters of commendation, Czech paper money, etc.
This is when everything got ugly. He did the UNTHINKABLE. He put a CREASE in my up-til-now uncreased, fresh from the flat folder Czech money!
While he still had the bill ever-so-slightly rolled between his thumb and first two fingers, I said, (or snapped, perhaps) "A lot of the value of this stuff is in the condition. If you don't mind, we need to handle this ephemera a little more carefully".
Well, you'd have thought I cut off his testicles!
He responded, as he put down the paper money, "Listen lady" (can you believe that?) "I handle thousands of pieces of this stuff everyday. I know what I'm doing". Yeah right, I think. So I show him the crease, for which he promptly denies any responsibility.
Now I ask you, is it too much to expect a person to handle my possessions with respect? Is is too much to ask someone to treat ME with respect? ESPECIALLY when he's sitting in MY house at MY dining room table?
And since I'm not one to let a demeaning comment like "listen lady" go by without notice, (and since I was feeling a tad bitchy right about then), I just had to add, "and my name is Mrs. X,
incidentally!".
Things were somewhat awkward after that, but as Mr.
Ass was gathering his wife and other belongings to leave (not soon enough, I might add), he gave me his business card (and again a sales pitch for his books) and said he would be glad to post my items for sale on his website. I politely (?) reminded him that, "with all due respect, you don't even know what items I have. There are 15 documents that you didn't even look at".
"They don't have what I'm looking for", he responds, like he's Superman or something and can read what's typed on paper folded up inside envelopes. Jerk.
After they leave, I go back into the dining room to put my things away. I notice a strangeness about the room, like these people left something behind. An odor, maybe? An aura?
No. It's
COOTIES.
EEEEEEEWWWW!
So I have to go now and F
abreze the chairs, and
Windex the glass tabletop, and vacuum the floor, and
Lysol the air and whatever else I need to do to
decootify my house.
But before I go, let me explain how, as I said at the beginning of this post, I can feel so
fortunate despite being so disrespected in my own home by a total stranger. You see, I don't HAVE to sell any of the stuff this guy came to see. I don't NEED to deal with a
sleazebag, an
ass, a jerk, or anyone who thinks he's doing me a favor because he shows up at my house.
These historic items have been in my possession for over 15 years. I can keep them for another 15 years if I choose to.
What a
fortunate position to be in, wouldn't you agree?
