The Story of How I Took An ‘L’

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In recent weeks, I’ve noticed an increased amount of Facebook posts about deals gone wrong in local Buy Sell Trade groups. Unfortunately, with the added convenience of access, where one individual need not limit themselves to the several blocks surrounding their home to strike a deal, there is an added risk of meeting with a most unsavory kind of character.

This blog that my firends and I are writing deals mostly with facts and opinions, so this write-up takes a bit of a tangent as I delve into the world of FICTION. So without further ado…

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

As I stared into my closet, I noticed an increasing lack of space for new additions to my collection. I asked myslef the hard questions: “Which shoes have I not worn yet? Which shoes am I ready to let go?”. I then prepared myself mentally as I started to pull box after box of deadstock, slightly worn sneakers into a pile that would be known as OUTGOING. I proceeded to take pictures of all my shoes and to upload sets of images to various Facebook groups within Canada. I am, for all intents and purposes, a sneaker box mailing expert, as I have been at it for several years, so dealing cross country was all right for me.

Within days, I started to field message after message about my available sneakers. One message stuck out in particualr as the offer was a shoe I have a strong interest for versus a shoe I had prepared myself to let go. Jordan 1 Bred for Nike SB High Tiffanys. I’m pretty sure anyone would jump at this offer. It tip-toed the line between too-good-to-be-true and just-might-be-close-enough-to-be-real. There is where I faltered. So anxious was I to make this deal happen, that I put my skepticism aside and didn’t go through my regular checks to ensure I was not being duped.

The person offering me the Bred 1s in trade was named Batrick Puck. He lived in the city of Kalmary, Alberto, a beautiful town in the Mid-Western part of our country. He was a Foosball player attending Earnest Mannong College. As we were in two different cities, he agreed to meet my friend in person once I shipped my Tiffany SBs over to Kalmary. As my friend wasn’t a Jordan 1 expert, I linked him an article on how to legit check the Jordan 1 Bred. After the meet, my friend reported back to me that the Bred 1s were ok, and he shipped them over to me. Once I received the shoes, the first thing I noticed was the box tag, it seemed a bit off. After going through a quick glance, I noticed other markers indicating to me that I had just been screwed over and now held in hand a a FAKE pair of Bred 1s. I even pulled out my own pair of Bred 1s, bought from a local store to compare and indicator after indicator confirmed that I had a Fugazzi.
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Since I figured Mr. Puck would have no interest in fixing this situation, because why would a person dealing with fakes care about making a situation right in terms of proper etiquette and truth, I was ready to take a loss and take responsibility for not completing the full series of verifications before moving forward with the trade. A sliver of hope still compelled me to message Mr. Puck and he actually responded. He denied the allegations that the Bred 1s were fake and then refused to return the Tiffanys or offer the money to pay for them. I advised that I would take action in his city of Kalmary if he had no interest in returning the shoes. I then posted facts and images to several Facebook sneaker groups to warn others that there was a scammer in our midst. The actual outpoor of sympathy and help actually counter-balanced some of the shitty situation that I had fallen into. Even good people from the great of the 7even offered great help with information about the perpetrator from Kalmary. These people were ready to help to take him down, for a lack of a better term, they went in H.A.M. on this fake dealer. For that I am greatful.

Several days have past since the incident, and I have not reposted images of the individual on social media. I had actually removed my initial posts in the various Facebook groups, since his terms were for me to remove the posts before he opened up talks to try and remedy the situation. Over a week later, and I am still without my Tiffany SBs and on the floor of my basement is a fake pair of Bred 1s, a reminder of how sometimes, people are just assholes.

As I write the last few words of this Fictional story, I notice how calm I am about being scammed. I don’t give the situation much thought anymore, because I have filed this individual’s name in my ‘future projects’ folder in my brain. Mr. Puck acted as if he had nothing to lose when he decided to take advantage of our trade. He is partially correct. He doesn’t have enough to lose, not by my count. One day, however, he might have more to lose and just enough for me to pluck his name back out and wreak a bit of havoc. He might have gotten me in terms of money and sneaker loss, but I do believe that I have him in terms of peace of mind. He does not know when I will resurface. It was easy enough for the good people trying to help me to find his Foosball coach’s name, and his mother’s name, address and phone number. He might cringe every time he hears her phone ring. That bastard calling her just might be me, ever so polite, but ever so reminding her how much of a piece of shit she has raised. Who won this round? Who cares. I’ll be sure to come out on top when you least expect it.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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