Wednesday, April 11, 2012

“I vould like to buy dee horse"

Before I offend everyone: In order to fully embrace the hilarity of this situation, I feel the need to attempt to properly depict the dialect of my caller.  I am not trying to mock anyone, nor am I TRYING to be an asshole, so don’t bitch at me for being insensitive or racist.  I’m not.  I’m fully aware that morons come in every race and nationality.

Last Saturday afternoon, as I was minding my own business and going to pick up a tractor, since I’ve come to terms with the fact that my old Ford tractor has a terminal illness and probably won’t be with us much longer, my phone rang.  I’ve got about 7 horses for sale right now, and since I didn’t recognize the number, I assumed it was a prospective buyer.  Little did I know….

“Yes?” (who the hell is this?)
“I need you tell me where you live.”
“Excuse me?”
“I need you tell me where you live.  I at da (street name removed for my own safety) and (another street name removed) in dee White Lake.  Where you house?”

Now, I’ll be honest, I tend to forget shit.  Mainly important things, like horse registration numbers and birthdates, how to do long division, and the finer points of cellular mitosis, but I DO NOT forget when someone is coming out to potentially give me money.  I have no appointments scheduled today, and I have no idea who the hell my newfound Spanish-speaking friend is.

“Why do you need to know where I live?”
“I come look at dee horse for sale.”

(What the HELL?!)  Now I’m thinking I REALLY fucked up. 

“Uhhh, which horse?”
“Dee horse on dee internet.  Dee horse you have for sale!”
“Okay, which horse are you looking at?”
“Dee pa-palo-.  Dee paaaaaloooomeeeeaaannnoooo horse.  Dee horse on dee internet!  Where you house?  I in dee White Lake.”

Now at this point, to the best of my detective work, I’ve figured out that this guy is LITERALLY less than a mile from my house.   How he made it that far, I have no idea, I’m still a little confused by that part.  He doesn’t have an appointment, and is pretty hell-bent on seeing my Sheez Docs Belle mare (because that’s the only palomino I have right now).  I’m nowhere near home, couldn’t get there within 20 minutes if I WANTED to (even with the way I drive), and I know there’s a pretty determined Mexican guy wanting to be at my house, like RIGHT NOW.

“I’m not there, you can’t come see her.”
“But I drive all dee way from by dee Deeetroit!  I drive una hora!” (that’s Spanish for one hour)
“You never called me!  You didn’t have an appointment.”
“Yes, if you want to see a horse from me, you need to have an appointment!”
“Why I need appointment?”
“Because I’m not home.  I didn’t know you were coming, because you didn’t have an appointment, so I’m not home.”
“You no home?”
“No.  I’m not home.”
“When you be home?”
“Four or five hours.”  (More like an hour, but at this point, I’m NOT showing this guy a horse)
“Ooohhhh, four o five hours?”

By now, I’m fairly certain that one of my dickhead friends is screwing with me.  There’s NO WAY someone would drive an HOUR to look at a horse without checking to see if someone’s home to show the horse to them, right?  Wrong.  The guy doesn’t say anything for awhile, and then I hear him talking to someone with him.  They’re rattling back and forth in Spanish.  I took 2 years of Spanish in high school, and another 2 in college, and while I spend the vast majority of that time being completely lost and having NO idea what the hell was going on, I picked up a few things.  This guy was legit, it wasn’t one of my friends, and now they’re talking about coming tomorrow.

“Is der someone dat can show me dee horse right now at you house?”
“No, I’m the only one.”
“You dee only one?  Ooohhhh.”
“Yep, sorry.  You didn’t have an appointment, so I can’t show you the horse.”
“Okay. I come tomorrow.”
“No, you can’t come tomorrow.”
“Why I no come tomorrow?”
“Because tomorrow is Easter Sunday and I’m not working on Easter.” 

At this point, I’m racking my brain trying to remember what I can about Mexican culture, and I’m pretty sure most of the religious population celebrates Easter.  Apparently I got the only Mexican guy that didn’t know what day it was.  Lucky me.

“Oooohhh, and you no show me horse today?”
“No, not today.  Call me on Monday and you can set up an appointment.”
“But I here now.  You no show me horse today?”
“No.  I’m not home.  Call me Monday.”
“Okay, I call you on Monday.”

Oddly enough, I never heard from him again… blown, I guess.  

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