It all started with a "honey, will you do me a favor"? MJ's North Carolina accent really kicks in when she wants something. Then I hear, "better get a pencil and paper and write all this down", that's when I know there's gonna be trouble. Well it turns out that MJ's dining table at the condo in San Diego is severely in need of a new base for the heavy table-top and it appears that after searching the lands, high and low, she's located one, right here in the valley in the Northeast section. Anytime I hear East Valley, I think of Mesa and it's a place that holds only terror for me. It's streets have different names and it's a completely different city than Phoenix or Scottsdale and having been born sans a sense of direction, it means getting lost and mass confusion. I admit freely that I do not possess a GPS system and if I did, it would probably be as confusing to me as a city such as Mesa!
I called the number that MJ gave me and got a voicemail of a Real Estate Broker, how quaint? Although I called before 8 PM, she never returned my call. When I awoke this morning, there was a message from the lady's husband saying he was handling the transaction and he'd be gone until about noon. At about 10 AM, MJ texted me that she was sure that I'd already picked up and purchased the table base and probably had already gotten the pumpkin pie and cool whip by now, right? Oh boy, I had her pumpkin pie right here!!!
At about 11:45 AM, I gave old Stuart Gippers a call and he answered. I reiterated who I was and what my mission was and he acted like he was aware of my existence and was expecting me. I told him I thought I could be there about 1 and verified his address. He began giving me detailed directions and how to get there. You wanna take the 101 to.... I stopped him and explained that I had already printed directions to his house from mine from Google Maps, to which he replied, huh??? Then proceeded to give me the detailed instructions including things like, look for the waterfall and the billboard of the Coppertone girl, that means you've gone too far. While I rolled my eyes I let him finish. Finally hanging up, I went out to my Expedition and removed the extra seat and aired up a couple of low tires and began my trip to a place called Mesa (What a place-a).
I really didn't have a difficult time finding the place, Google Maps knew of everything sans the waterfall and the Coppertone girl. I called old Stuart from in front of his house and he didn't answer. That's because he was already walking outside, probably because he had been watching out the window. He was about 72 years old, gave me a brief look into my own future and otherwise a pretty entertaining old guy. We wheeled out the table base and put it into my car, that's when I thought of screeching off with it, but decided to stay and pay him anyway. Old Stuart kept me standing in his driveway and found it necessary to tell me everything he knew about his old town of Mesa and asked if I'd had a chance to drive through his neighborhood. I explained, no and that I'd come right here as he was expecting me. He told me to be sure to drive by the new Methodist church, that it was now and the pride of the neighborhood and to check out some of the 5 million dollar homes nearby.
Stuart was a Cadillac man and he had an Esplanade in the driveway and a Sedan in the garage. Eventually he shared with me that they're both leased and they're trying to get out of the leases and he and his wife that turned out to be as wide as she was tall, had both gotten jobs. I wanted to ask what type of jobs they'd gotten, but I realized that was an invitation to another 20 minutes of conversation. So, I offered my hand and split.
My first thought was to call MJ and tell I'd secured the table base and her first question was, how much did I get it for? I tried to explain that when she emailed the fat lady, that her friend Mel was coming to pick it up, pretty much took away my negotiating powers. She agreed, although reluctantly.
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