WHEN THE BARTER SYSTEM DOESN’T WORK THERE’S ALWAYS SUSAN B. ANTHONY
For the longest time, I’ve thought the spectrum of bike riding folks who shop at our store had no end or beginning. Lately though, I’m convinced that I beat Stephen Hawking in finding both ends of the universe. Granted, it’s just both ends of a puny little universe confined by four concrete walls but it’s still a universe.
The funny thing though is that both ends look alike.
We’ll start at the top with Steve. Unless you’ve just awoken from a 30 year coma you should know who he is. Steve plays the banjo and one time was such a jerk he was known simply as “The Jerk.”
Fortunately, Steve’s really nice guy. He always says please and thank you. His needs are pretty simple. He likes bikes that are more upright so he doesn’t get a stiff neck when cruising around– that’s about as wild and crazy as he gets. He’s got a weird fetish with floor pumps though, never buys just one. He always at least three and they’re always top of the line. Oh well, what would expect from a guy who has a collection of Picasso’s?
Down in the basement at the other end of the spectrum is Roger- a gent who recently graced me with his presence. From across the street, Roger looked enough like Steve to make me think, “Cool, Steve’s coming in.” Then he got a little closer and it didn’t take long to realize this guy was Bizzaro Steve in a Panama Jack suit.
Roger came in to buy a bike recently because he was tired of walking 12 miles each way to work. His yellowed suit reeked of old sweat and his shoes were as worn and haggard as Britney Spears.
Speaking in a rapid fire speech pattern he said, “I understand that the technology of the modern bicycle has grown exponentially in recent years. I wish to buy a bicycle on which I can maintain an average speed of 25 miles per hour.”
So we looked at road bikes. Roger said he had exactly $2500, and not a cent more, to spend on a bike. We found a bike with a Tour de France pedigree which was on sale making it the perfect candidate.
“Can I average 25 miles per hour on this machine?”
“It has the potential, sir. Would you like to take it for a test ride?”
“No. I can’t leave this behind,” Roger said, referring to the paper grocery bag he was schlepping. Roger had quite the impressive sack. It was a dozen or so paper grocery bags opened up inside each other to make one mega-bag that was obviously holding something very valuable and very heavy.
“Before I purchase this machine I do have a few questions.”
I’ll spare you the agony of having to read verbatim of what I had to endure. Each one of Roger’s questions had at least five minutes of build up and involved topics such as, veganism, cancer causing carcinogens found in plastics, the dangers of battery acid to small animals, and the desert being really hot in the summer, among other gems of discussion
An hour later Roger was ready to purchase his new bike but first he wanted to try and negotiate a better deal.
“I have an officially licensed reseller’s permit from the State of California. Would it be possible to purchase this machine at wholesale with the understanding that I will resell it within six months from the date of purchase? I have a friend who lives in Turkey. He’s not a savage like the rest of the people there. He has good taste and I know he would buy this from me.”
“Um, yeah, no we can’t do that,” I said.
“I figured as much,” he said leaning in real close. “I have a warehouse in the San Fernando Valley. I guarantee you that we currently have in stock the widest selection of pornography you can imagine,” explained Roger in a hush tone like he was Deep Throat himself.
“Perhaps we could arrange a trade? Do you prefer videos or DVDs? Amateur or professional? Male, female or perhaps a variation? Maybe even pregnant chicks?”
After explaining that the barter system really wasn’t going to work, Roger decided he’d go ahead and purchase his new machine anyway. I wrote him up and sent him to the waiting cashier.
Here’s where the plot takes an even weirder twist.
Roger hoisted his bag up, set it on the counter with a thud and pulled out small safe- the kind a 12 year-old might get to hide his loot.
As he zipped through the combination, I listened to him nonchalantly explain to the cashier “When the Susan B. Anthony dollar was first minted. I was sure the value would increase dramatically. As we all know that has not been the case and I’ve decided to purge myself of my hoarded collection to purchase a bicycle. Inside this safe you will find exactly 2,500 dollar coins. Not one more not on less. Feel free to count them if you wish.”
When those words fell out of his mouth, I realized I had sold a bike to the biggest freak in the known universe. A grand discovery indeed. There wasn’t anything left to do besides celebrate the occasion so I did what my boy Stephen Hawking would do. I rolled down to Taco Bell.
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