As I mentioned on Friday, my mother and I conducted a scientific study last week and stand by our results. It started at an Estate Sale run by Grumpy McHatefulpants. We went in with all kinds of optimism, and we were excited to see jewelry the moment we came in the door. Because Grumpy hadn’t priced ANYTHING, we had to ask the cost. “$1.00 to $8.00.” Okay, we could work with that. Mom found three items and placed them for checkout. He then proceeded to tell her that two of the pieces were $8.00 and when we mentioned that one of the pins were broken, he said, “I know! It’s still a great piece and it would be $35.00 dollars in a store, you stupid hags quit trying to steal my money.” He didn’t actually say that last part, but I read between the lines. Then he said the ring my mom had picked up was missing a stone, so obviously it would be $25.00 dollars. I know we’re from Tennessee, but I’m pretty sure 25 is not between 1 and 8. Needless to say, we left WITHOUT the jewelry.
At our second estate sale, my mom purchased a set of twin bed mattresses and box springs. The ladies running the sale didn’t have any men on hand to help get them downstairs, and we were just about to call JD, when a very nice gentleman offered to put them in the truck for us. He carried them downstairs and set them in the back of the pickup all by himself. The only problem was that they wouldn’t fit with the tailgate closed. As he was trying to push and shove them into place, a man of about 30 came walking out of the house. Our hero said, “Hey, can you help me for a second?” And Asshat McFat said, “NO, mumble mumble, I’ve got to go.” Then he proceeded to cloven hoof it on out of there. Gah! It took all of my self-control not to yell at him out the window as we drove by. Since I couldn’t find him by the time we left, it was a little easier.
FINALLY, my mom and I were heading home, minding our own business, when blue lights appeared in the rear view mirror. Immediately I started wondering what I’d done. Had he noticed that I was reading the Facebook messages on my phone to my mother while driving? Perhaps it was because I crossed the center line trying to scroll? Maybe it was the four mattresses hanging out of the truck! I pulled over and the officer came to the window. “Ma’am, is there some reason you were going 70 miles per hour in a 45?”
I was incredulous! Of all the things – that? Shocked, I asked, “I was going SEVENTY MILES PER HOUR?”
Deputy Deadpan Stan said, “Didn’t you hear me? I just said that.”
Sigh. Is testosterone Greek for jerk? Somebody check into that for me. Surprise, surprise, the dude actually let me off with a warning. He wanted to know why I was going so fast and I told him something about driving my mom’s truck, and HEMI, and he must have found Jesus while he ran my license because the next thing I know I was on my way.
So to recap, of the 4 men we came in contact with 2 were terrible, 1 was helpful, and 1 was puffed up on power, freaking us out before leaving us alone. Sounds about normal.