After the past month or so of dealing with the depraved bottom-feeders of Chase Bank and CESI Credit Counseling Service (never, whatever you do, I am warning you, ever do business with either of these diabolical entities) who have worked in collusion over the past two years to destroy my credit and exploit me for as much money as they possibly can, I finally realized last night that it doesn’t pay to be honest. (As for the above-mentioned story, it’s so long and convoluted that I can’t possibly begin to explain it, but suffice to say that it is most likely going to end up in court.)
I found someone recently who was willing to buy my car for $500 before I left for Portland. I met him a couple of weeks ago and he was super nice, willing to pay in cash, and I talked to him several times in the week or so before I left. My car’s Blue Book value is $2100, but it’s got a lot of problems that need to be fixed, rendering it nearly worthless. It runs very well and most of these things are cosmetic or superfluous (like, it has a leaky compressor, which makes the AC work not very well, but doesn’t affect how well the car runs). I could have gotten at least $1200 or $1300 for it, probably, if I hadn’t been upfront about its problems, but I couldn’t in good conscience sell a car to someone I knew had major fixer-upper issues.
So this guy wants it and says he doesn’t care about the issues because he has a friend who’s a mechanic who will fix stuff for him. So I agree to hold it for him with the agreed-upon price of $500. In the meantime a technician contacts me and offers me $600 for it (knowing full well what’s wrong with it), but I turn him down, since I’ve already promised it to the first guy.
So we agree to meet last night for him to pick up the car. He shows up at my house, we do the necessary legal paperwork, I sign over my title to him, and at the end he says, “So, we agreed on five-hundred, right?”
I say yes.
He looks at me sheepishly, either because he’s embarrassed or because he’s smugly proud of himself, I’m not sure which, and says, “Well, I only actually have four-hundred dollars on me. Would you be willing to take that?”
Keep in mind this is 11:00 the night before I’m leaving town, he knows I’m leaving town, and we’re already done the paperwork.
I just stared at him and said, “Really? This is what you do?”
He keeps staring at me, smirking a bit.
He actually says to me, “Man, I’m sorry, it’s been a hard week. I had to bail my buddy out of jail, and he’s supposed to pay me back, but you know how that goes.”
So I take the money, sighing, “What choice do I have?” and he tries to shake my hand, which I refuse, and he leaves, thanking me.
Bottom feeders. Everywhere.