Yesterday I secured a free ironing board via Craigslist. For those of you who don't know, Craigslist is a free online market place for jobs, accommodation, goods, services, small ads, local activities, in fact, you name it, it's probably there. It was created in 1995 by a man called Craig (in San Francisco actually) and is widely used, particularly in the US. There are always loads of freebies, ripe for the picking, but you have to be quick. It seems that most people leave their free stuff on a street corner (showing how little it rains here) and then post up a note to say what they have left, and then by the time you get there, by public transport anyway, it is gone. A bit like Challenge Anneka, without Dave the camera man, oh, or the helicopter, or the tight yellow jumpsuit, and my name isn't Anneka. It also isn't televised.
It actually bears very little resemblance to Challenge Anneka when you consider it for more than a split second, especially as I am thinking of Treasure Hunt, the forerunner to Challenge Anneka.
So, the ironing board. I saw the board advertised and sent a quick e-mail, not really thinking about where it was in the city and whether we could get there or not, so great was my desire to iron. The seller responded virtually immediately to say it was still available and I could collect it after 7, and gave me his address and phone number. I quickly worked out where it was, how I would get there and made arrangements to meet my back-up and ironing board carrier extraordinare. I, of course, have the ability to carry an ironing board, it was the back-up I needed. Safety in numbers when going to a strangers house is always my motto, but especially when they are going to give you something for free.
So, in another quick email to the seller, I confirmed the time I would be there. The lovely giving away an ironing board to the chronically crumpled replied thus:
"Works for me. Call me when you're at the building/corner. And I can just carry it down and do the hand off thing. Cool?"
[This has been included verbatim for British readers to enjoy as much as I did]
Of course, I don't have a phone, because this country won't give me one. They don't trust me you see. It is an ongoing issue, which I am sure will get resolved at some point, but only after my spirit has been well and truly crushed and my spleen has been vented a thousand times over. So, I replied to say, "Sorry, I'm from the UK" and don't have a phone. As an excuse, it is terrible, but it seems to work in the short term before anyone realises that it in fact makes no sense. I asked whether he had an intercom or doorbell, to which I received this reply:
"Wah. Actually, no. My building intercom won't connect to a non-land line. And I only have a cell phone. But how bout this? I'll be on the corner of xxx & xxx at 8:30. And just expect you around then?"
I have taken out the road names for the safety of the lovely man, which I guess is fairly insulting to anyone reading this, as it assumes that you have murderous or at least violent tendencies. Let's move on.
What does "wah" mean*? I read it as a small noise which conveys a mild exasperation at the fact that I just want to give away an ironing board and I have even proffered my address and mobile phone number for the taking, and here is a nuisance foreigner with all sorts of frankly ridiculous difficulties, excused away by feeble nonsense, making the exchange more complicated.
At this point, he could have just told me where to go, but no, he offered to stand waiting for a freak, near his home, holding an ironing board. That is just plain decent.
It took me just over an hour to get there, but luckily I left an hour and a half early as I didn't want to be late, to add insult to injury, and because I mistrust the public transport system. It really wasn't a long journey, and my mistrust was spot on.
At exactly half past eight as planned, a man emerged from a nearby building, carrying an ironing board. I approached him by saying his name, so he would know I wasn't just some freebie taker impostor. He shook my hand in greeting and said; "Welcome to San Francisco, have an ironing board." I laughed and thanked him very much, for surely that is hospitality at it's finest.
A new cover and a good disinfect later (for even the loveliest, most generous and accommodating of souls have germs, and cats apparently) we have ourselves an ironing board. The fact that I am as pleased as I am shows just how difficult and frustrating every other 'easy' transaction has been. Thank you lovely ironing board man for restoring my faith in the world, even if just for one evening.
* Answers on a postcard gratefully received.
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3 comments:
I had heard rumours of Craigs List, but to actually hear it in operation is another thing, and an ironing board for free, what a wonderful thing. I know how difficult it can be moving to a new country and building up the things that you need without breaking the bank. I remember when I first got to Cayman that I ate of a set of picnic plates until the disintegrated, and at that point I did concede that I might need something more substantial than something that was supposed to be throw away!
Thanks to you and Mikey for the message, I have been kind of hiding out on your blog and not commenting anywhere else, so I am entrusting you to keep my secret safe! I hope that the English supper went well!
Hi Mima,
Hide out as much as you want!
Yes, it seems Craigslist is an institution here, if you need a job, a date, an opinion, or indeed a free ironing board.
It is amazing how you can just make do without things which were 'essential' back home, although we did go to Ikea immediately to do the what-can-I-not-live-without shop (bedclothes and cups apparently).
The bangers and mash evening was good, but the British style sausages I bought from the disappointing British shop were decidedly ropey and will never been repeated, or even discussed again, after today.
We rounded the evening off by offering some Robinson's orange squash (oh yes, we know how to entertain) to our slightly bewildered guest, with much over-enthusiasm as it is something we have been missing. She said it was just like Capri Sun, which I guess is about right. That burst my bubble somewhat! A British institution dating back to 1823, popular with Victorians, the stuff of my childhood; versus an American shiny fly by night, with not enough in a pouch, that's if you can manage to pierce it in the first place with the cheap and flimsy straw, dating back to 1981... I knew I should have bought Ribena. That would have been a different story.
PS - Capri Sun, or Capri Sonne, is actually German and dates back to 1966, (and was distributed in the US in 1981) but this fact wouldn't have worked as well in my sentence of comparison. I never let facts get in the way of anything if I can help it.
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