One year ago I bought truck meat.
You heard me.
Not one but two cute dudes drove into my driveway offering me steaks, chicken breasts and shellfish. Initially, I was skeptical. But then I saw the meat had come from a reputable company, a name I recognized. I considered 36 pieces of filet mignon and 12 marinated chicken breasts. The guys wanted $400.
I looked at the guys again.
I wanted that meat.
“It’s guaranteed for freshness for 24 months,” they insisted all cute and muscle-y.
They offered to drop the price by $50.
I hesitated some more and batted my eyelashes a little.
They added an extra carton of filet thus confirming I still had my magical powers at 40-something.
The meat dudes did not accept credit cards, so I gladly wrote one guy a check as the other more muscle-y guy concentrated on stacking the bags of meat into our garage freezer.
I was elated.
The two men
screeched backed carefully out of my driveway and zoomed off down the street.
Eventually Hubby saw the charge in our checkbook and asked about it.
“I got 48 pieces of fillet and 24 chicken breasts for $318!” I exclaimed.
“Have we had any yet?” he asked.
“No!” I said, “I’m saving it for something special. Maybe New Year’s Eve or something.”
“Open it up!” Hubby practically shouted.
I didn’t know what he was so worked up about. I mean the guys were so honest and I had a 24-month guarantee for freshness. Sheesh.
The meat defrosted on our kitchen countertop and, eventually, we cut open its clear plastic wrapper.
I’m not sure if it was the color or the smell that tipped us off first.
“I don’t think that’s from a cow,” Hubby declared as he plugged his nose and plopped the meat into a trash-bag.
I pictured cats, dogs, gerbils, nutria — and I knew I had done a bad thing.
An organized person, I quickly found the 24-month freshness warranty and dialed the 1-800 number.
Doo doo doo. We’re sorry, the number you have reached is no longer in service.
I called the local distributor.
Doo doo doo. We’re sorry the number you have reached is no longer in service.
I knew I had been scammed.
Few things set me off more than being lied to.
Furious, I called the Better Business Bureau where I learned the company I had done business with had over 300 complaints filed against it. I didn’t care. I would not be a number.
Long story short: It took a few months, but I got our money back.
All of it.
Because I am relentless.
Were you not paying attention the first time around?
Cross me and this twit will make you wish you had Harry Potter on speed dial so you could ask to borrow his invisibility cloak.
If this were a fable by Aesop, the lesson might be something like this: If your stuff is good, you don’t have to brag about it. Or sell it door to door. So if some guys come around bragging about their meat, just say no because — chances are — their junk is already spoiled.
Have you ever been scammed? What happened? What weird lessons has life been teaching you lately?
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