More Fool Me

Never, ever do anyone a favor.

I don't mean a small favor, like holding the door or picking up some milk at the grocery store if you're going anyway.

I mean a big favor. The kind of favor that will come and bite you in the ass merely because it CAN.

Case in point:

A neighbor of mine, across the hall, suddenly decided to leave the country. He had two weeks from the date he decided to make the move until the day he left to get everything organized, packed, and – for those things he wasn't taking with him – sold.

I met him the day after he decided to move. Of course, when we would see each other in the hallway we would be cordial, but we never took the time to chat and get to know each other. That day, we became friends. He, my significant other, and I spent hours that night chatting. Among other things, we were working out the logistics of how he would be able to sell an apartment full of furniture in less than two weeks. We – FOOLS – said we would try to help him out.

We contacted everyone in our communal address books, looking for buyers. The prices he was looking for were somewhat crazy – we ourselves paid $180 for a used futon. But ok… we were helping out.

I took on the responsibility of selling his unsold stock of beauty products which were rotting in his closets, hoping to derive some form of profit for him so his investment wouldn't be a total loss. They have been inventoried, and inspected, and are ready for sale. As a favor to a "friend". I was helping out.

In the end, there were many items left. These items were moved – by their owner, the soon-to-be-expat -- across the hall into my (small) apartment until his buddy could come to pick them up. I am black and blue from walking into them. I don't want them there. I hate the way my apartment looks. But did I complain? No. I was helping out.

Then, one night, one of the myriad people who had the combination to his door came and stole a few of the items that were left. A couple of bookcases one night, a coffee table and dresser the next night. The last two remaining items – an enormous couch (currently residing end-up in the middle of my foyer for lack of a better place to put it) and a giant dining room table (which displaced my own dining room table) – were then moved into my apartment for safekeeping, lest they go the way of the bookcases, into the vast unknown. I thought – I THOUGHT – I was helping out.

Now I'm being accused of having stolen it all.

The last time I spoke to the expat, he said, you have the couch? Keep it! It's a gift! You have the table? Keep it! It's a gift! The bar and the lamps – those belong to Mr. X (the buddy who should have picked up his crap from my place weeks ago), he should come pick them up. You don't know who took the other stuff? Ok.

Now I'm getting text messages from uninvolved parties calling me a thief, that I took everything, or that my significant other did. That's what Mr. X "heard". The sick thing about slander is that once it's out there, there's no getting it back. So thank you, those who slandered me and mine… I know you'll get what's coming to you. Meanwhile, FUCK YOU.

And that's why you should never, ever do anyone a big favor. Because you'll get your name trashed and an apartment full of crap that no one will ever pick up….nothing you ever wanted, but that you obviously had nothing better to do than to steal.