Long story about my bad day. First, let me readily admit that I was an idiot in not properly protecting my new-found property. While I was angry at my friend, it was really largely my fault that this played out as badly as it did. Still, my disappointment clouded much of the rest of the morning.
The scene was a parking lot flea market being sponsored by my Temple as a fund raiser, around 8 AM. About half of the tables were filled with stuff donated by members for us to sell, the other tables were private rental space. I got there with my car loaded with donation stuff for the Temple, and with a secondary goal of buying household goods from any table to be donated to another charity. I recently got involved as a supporter of a transitional living initiative for kids aging out of foster and emergency housing and into subsidized apartments. These kids need everything as they are being put into studio apartments with nothing but a mattress and some clothes. Anything we can provide (kitchen stuff, linens, toiletries, the basics of life....) will be put to immediate use.
Well, I pulled up and my gaze fixated on a vintage 10 speed apparently donated by a member. Head-badge indicated a 1981 Schwinn Varsity, condition very good. Virtually rust free, complete and everything work (except dry-rotted tires) but sun faded paint and some decal peel - priced at $10. I immediately paid, as several of the group got into a discussion about why a seemingly normal guy like me would want another old bicycle! Then two of them came over to my car to help unload, and I went 'shopping' for the kids. The bike was forgotten, with me assuming (yep, don't need to remind me....), that it was being moved out of harms way.
A few moments later, I returned to move ithe bike to the car, but guess what (?), it was no where to be seen. Figuring that my friend had moved it to behind the tables, I casually asked what he had done with it. He proudly announced for all to hear that he had sold it! Yes, I responded, "to me - about 15 minutes ago". He stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropped. Man, I knew that I was in trouble! Sure enough, he totally blanked that he was examining it with me, and was there when I paid. Being a good salesman, he had just sold it again!
Now I love the guy. He has been a great inspiration to me over the years, but I have become increasingly aware that he'll tell the same story to me twice when we are together. So selling something twice shouldn't have come as a great surprise. But I guess I didn't hide my immediate disappointment very well, and I know he feels bad about it. So I took some more stuff for the kids (added in a kettle and some utensils), and we called it even. Guess I need to send him an apology note for being less than charitable.
Moral of the story - stay focused!