Craigslist Emails

Last weekend, I was struck with the urge to purge. After cleaning out the contents of an old four-drawer filing cabinet, I put the cabinet up for sale for $30 on Craigslist. Within an hour, I received no fewer than ten responses to the ad. Here are my favorites:

"I don't drive but I want to buy the cabinet. Do you think that I can bring it home on the train?"

"Why are you selling the cabinet so cheap? What's wrong with it? If nothing, then I want it."

"How close is the Mainline to Maryland?"

"I would like to purchase the filing cabinet. If you could deliver it after 6pm weekdays or between 12-5 on Sunday, that would be great. I live near 19th and Chestnut."

This individual's email signature identified him as an academic. Specifically, he is a professor at the University of Pennsylvania. This news totally shocked me as most academics are not this presumptuous and have a much higher level of self-awareness. He must not be tenured.

"Is the filing cabinet still available? If so, I want it. I have a lot of papers to feel."

I ended up selling the cabinet to a woman named Barb who lives two towns over. Once I gave her my phone number, she called me no less than 13 times asking for re-measurements, additional pictures, approximate weight, and my opinion on whether or not the cabinet would look good with black office furniture. I answered some of the calls; most I let go to voice mail.

Around call 7, I began to fantasize about delivering the cabinet to 19th and Chestnut. By call 11, I would have paid the professor $30 to take the cabinet from me. By the time Barb arrived, the cabinet was at the end of the driveway with a note taped to the top drawer instructing her to leave the money in my mailbox.