2006-01-27

Have Fun Trying

Have you ever been hustled?
Me either. By which I mean, of course I've been hustled but did I know it at the time?

Not before now, at least.
I pride myself on my naivety but between you and me, it's sadly packed up its belongings and along with youthful exhuberance, general optimism, and thebelief in Prince Charming, it has packed its pretty little suitcase and left for that great big field in the sky, Yesteryear.

Sigh.

Right now, I am being hustled for money. Not a lot at all but still... it's a very tedious place to be and I am not sure how I am going to handle it.

The trouble with the con is that the Mark, me, is put into a position of not really having too many viable options. The best choice is to do what the Hustler wants. In this case, pay a bill.

A great Hustler will make it so that the Mark is totally extorted without ever knowing it. Now, Iím not a Hustler but I am a very observant young lady. I like all of the ducks to be in their rows, I like the dots to match, and I will be relentless in asking questions. I wonít make a move toward a potentially bad situation until I am damn sure that I have to give in a little.

The Hustler who is trying to run a game on me so far hasnít acted very carefully. For example, if you are trying to get money from someone, you need to lay your ground work. You have to seed the Mark with the idea that there might be an issue.
Game On:
ďHey, itís nothing big and Iíll just keep my eye on it. Weíre cool, stop worrying! Itís allllll goooood.Ē
If the Mark is like I seem to be, completely gullible and built from nerves of high-tech trigger wire, sheíll go home and think about the problem for 3 days, come up with a solution that most likely involves writing a check to you.
Game Off.

If she only seems high strung, but really thinks through every possible detail that you hadnít even created yet, then you arenít going to be successful in your attempt to get some money.

See, thereís a right way and a wrong way to go about things that are a little indelicate or unpleasant and I have learned the hard way. Iíve had people laughing at me and pointing. Iíve had salesmen patronizingly calling me sweetheart while I am signing over several thousand more for a car than I would be paying if I had any kind of experience. I have had people tell me no and Iíve had to go home and throw an epic tantrum.
Iíve had to learn that there is the right way to ask for what you feel like you are owed and there is a wrong way.

Iíve been asked the wrong way and because of that, I am not sure that I really owe anything. I donít know all of the details, I should have been told a month ago about the problem, and Iím not about to make offers based on a TEXT MESSAGE.

Which brings me to another thing, text messaging. Lord knows I love my texting. I recently texted ďWent to a party last Saturday night. Didnít get laid. Got in a fight. Uh huh. It ainít no big thingĒ to my BFF. That is still cracking me up for its hipster randomness and off-the-wall reference.
"I remember that song! Ha! Fucking brilliant, Sarah, well played, old girl, well played!"

I am done with text messaging. I might even turn it off at the provider level. Telling Sprint to turn somethng off would be satisfying in and of itself. Lately, the sound of that beep has become the equivalent of lead pipes being used to beat the shit out of the high-tech trigger-wire nerve fibers that I have. In a dark and lonely ally that smells like pee.
Yeah - I know. High tech wires should never have been out in that part of town and they were asking for it in that dress. Nice try, White Man, nice try.

I canít text anymore. I hear that BEEEEEEEP and my gag reflex kicks in and I dry heave a little.
My lower GI tract free-falls just long enough for me to have to sit down for a second, catch my breath, swallow too hard, and wait for the feeling of being on solid ground to return.

After the Vikingís dismal reaction to the demise of romantic entanglement, a true case for text messaging abuse; after today's text message grenade, and just generallyÖ.
No.
No more.
I am drawing the line and you heard it here.
Youíre not going to hear it from my phone, thatís for damn sure because text messages that arenít checked canít be replied to, now can they?

I am going to leave work before 7 pm, which will be a welcome change from the rest of this week. I am going to take my dogger out to run around, I am going to stare into space for longer than I meant to and then I am going to bed.

arizonasarah at 4:38 p.m.

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