Wordie Wednesday: integrity
noun : /ɪnˈteɡ.rə.ti/
- the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles that you refuse to change
Selling and buying things through the online marketplace can be a bit of a crap shoot. More often than I’d like to count, someone tries to rip you off. But once in awhile, you find a gem of a buyer. I once sold two event tents on a Facebook buy-and-sell, and a woman drove more than 100 miles with two small children in tow to pick them up. I had written her off as someone who said yes to the item, but then never showed because of the distance she would have to travel to pick up the items.
But she showed. On time. No arguing about price, no quibbling. It’s nice to know that some people still have integrity and know that their good name is worth more than gold. That others’ time is just as valuable as theirs.
I’ve had enough failed attempts to know that whenever I post something, I expect nothing will happen. In fact, if you keep reading, nothing did happen with this post for a good year:
12x12 trampoline in good used condition. All parts, including netting and poles. Netting has a hole in it at the entrance, which could be sewn up if you wanted to put the time into it. I’ll help dismantle. Extra parts and spring puller included. $45.
All I wanted to do was make some space in the back yard. My kids headed off on their travel adventures last summer, and at 11 and 14, they still liked to jump on the trampoline, just not very often. I sold it while they were away, and I knew they’d be mad about it when they returned home.
It was the second time I’d posted the trampoline on the Facebook buy-and-sell. The first time, more than a year before, no one was interested. My daughter discovered I’d put it up for sale, and got upset. This time, I specified pick-up for when the kids were away. It got snapped up in minutes. The lucky buyer offered more than I asked AND offered to take it apart himself.
He brought his wife and kids to see it before the purchase. He paid me $20 to hold it, and lifted his little ones onto the trampoline to try it out. Without telling them that he was buying it for them. The two toddlers, blonde curls bouncing, jumped cautiously on the trampoline. Then, bolder, they jumped and bounced on their bums, giggling at being airbound, over and over.
“We’re moving home to Wasaga Beach. I took a job up there. This will be perfect for Grandma’s back yard,” he told me.
The pick-up was arranged for two weeks’ hence, and we confirmed by Messenger a couple of times.
Then my dad got sick. I spent two rainy days and one sunny one out of town with him.
“Okay,” Tyler replied. “Sorry about your dad.”
He took the trampoline, and put the money in the top drawer of the dresser, as I’d suggested. He held to his word. I like that.
I don’t miss the trampoline. An area of dead grass and baby maples grew along a root of a tree we had cut down, through the circle shape of the missing toy. My kids did miss it.
I’m thinking of getting a hammock enclosed by mosquito netting to string between a couple trees at the back of the yard. Perhaps the novelty of that will take the edge off the disappointment about the trampoline. . .
Post note: My kids did miss the trampoline, and have begun advocating for me to buy another one. . .