It had to have been the worst week of my life.
Monday I got fired from my shitty internship.
Tuesday I spilled Starbucks all over my uninsured Macbook while looking for another job.
Thursday I got rejected by McDonalds for being too qualified to flip burgers.
And to top it off, the universe decided that a trinity of bad instances was just too satisfying a number for my brain to count—no, it had to be a quadrinity.
Saturday I got mugged.
Yep. Some twinky little blonde who was probably cracked of of her mind saw me carrying my phone and decided it would be fun if she just ran past me and grabbed it. I didn’t even have the chance to try and get it back.
“Why didn’t you have the chance to get it back, Matt?” you’re asking.
Oh. Because right after she snatched it, she immediately tripped over the curb and let the phone fly out of her hand and into the middle of the street for a Ford to run over.
Ironically, I had shelled out the money for AppleCare on the phone, but there wasn’t a ‘crazy homeless bitch’ clause in the agreement to cover the damage. Upon learning this unfortunate news, I immediately started releasing some of the week’s pent up anger in the form of antediluvian growls and fervid air-punching inbetween the Genius Bars.
I guess I scared the Geniuses because before I knew it I was somehow outside of the store standing amongst 3 of the outlet mall’s beefiest security.
As you’d expect, I woke up the next morning terribly unrested. Not that I needed the hours–I was running on simmering adrenaline by this point–but I think it’s important to reiterate just how hazy and out of it I was when I did the things I did later that day.
In addition to the lack of sleep, and not needing it, I drank two and a half cups of coffee that had more sugar than black. Sipping on it gave me time to think, to formulate a plan.
I had to. I didn’t have a job or any electronics to apply for one on; and from what I remembered, I barely had anything in my savings either. Maybe 400 dollars or so. Couldn’t have been more. Most likely less.
I’m not the most resourceful guy in the world, but I like to think that when it comes down to it, I can figure something out. I think I proved myself right about when I came up with the plan to find a library and use one of their public computers to find someplace to buy a phone for cheap.
Yeah, I needed one. I figured that was the first step in retrieving all of the stuff I’d lost. The computer and the job could come later. I couldn’t even fill out a job application without a phone number–how would they reach me, call me in, say “you got it!”
Phone first.
I was sure about it.
Still, I wasn’t sure how successful I’d be in retrieving one and subsequently immediately getting hired somewhere, so I preemptively went around my house and turned off all my lights and unplugged everything in ports and turned down the air. I don’t really know how much it helps cutting cost doing that, but my dad always did it in our house growing up and he always managed to pay the bills on his low income.
I didn’t feel like taking a shower, so I wiped myself down with some covid sanitizer wipes and changed into a cleaner outfit.
I’d only moved to this city a couple of months before, so I wasn’t an expert of the area or anything. I didn’t know where any library was, but I assumed there had to be one downtown in the square. There’s always a library downtown. I know that much at least. It’s just one of those things like how you know the sun is always going to rise every morning and set every night. It’s something you can count on.
With the slimmest sip of positivity, I hurriedly walked out of my place, started my old Camry, and drove the 6 miles to downtown Huntsville.
It was hot outside–of course it was–and after driving about a mile and a half worth’s through upper Alabama’s humidity, I started becoming agitated. The Square was pretty simple. The buildings were small and well-labelled and looked exactly like what you expected them to be. But there was no library in sight, not in or within 3 blocks around the grid. Luckily for me, there was an old couple walking down the street I could yell out the window at for directions. What they gave me was confusing, but after an impatient extra thirty minutes of driving, I had miraculously managed to make all the turns to lead me to the right place.
The Huntsville Public Library is huge. I’m sure there are bigger libraries somewhere out there, but it’s the biggest one I’ve ever been to. It’s segregated, too. Not racially like you would expect (sweet home Alabama), but in that way that it’s far away enough from everything else that there’s a country club right next to it.
When I walked inside the sleek two-story entrance door of the place and felt a gust of cold air blow down on me so hard that my knees buckled, I wasn’t even mad that I had wasted so much $5 gas to find the place anymore. It was heavenly. Way better than my place with ugly beige carpeting and a mild roach infestation.
No, this place was edge to edge modern–white panelling and sleek bookshelves and funky furniture speckled around for kids to sit on. They even had a tray of sugar cookies and a pot of coffee on a cabinet for guests to enjoy complimentary.
Except for the bookshelves (obviously), the place was pretty open concept so I could see where I needed to go almost immediately. I walked over to one of the unoccupied computers. Turned it on. Couldn’t use it. I needed a library card.
One of the ladies at the front desk was nice enough to not force me to go through the trouble (I was ineligible anyway) and just gave me an access code after hearing about my situation. Southern hospitality at its finest.
I could only use it for an hour though, which is pretty much akin to five minutes in real life. Totally useless. I didn’t get upset over it though. I had already come this far. Plus I was sure I could convince the librarian to give me more time if I flirted with her or acted like her grandson or something like that.
I went and sat back down in the cubby I chose and typed my shiny new access code into the prompt on the screen. It was accepted and my whole body slouched in relief. Since all of my passwords were locked in a manager I no longer had access to, I opted to hurriedly create a new gmail account, then a temporary 14-day email account because every ‘real’ email service requires phone number verification nowadays. But that’s neither here nor there.
After setting up a means for communication, I opened a new tab and went straight to Craigslist, searching for ‘phone’ in the FOR SALE section. No point in wasting time.
Most of the stuff was either too expensive or too poor quality. I’m not a snob or anything, but if I’d wanted a 8GB Android that couldn’t run Waze for 10 seconds I would have just run into Dollar General and bought one of their prepaids. No, I had to get a phone that could at least allow me to seriously use it as a computer for a little while, just until I got back on my feet.
Dissatisfied with my city’s selection, I changed my area to a different one and ventured into its sale section. Though I hadn’t sorted it for anything specific yet, it was obvious that this new city had much more decent stuff. I scrolled around aimlessly for about a minute before I decided to stop window shopping. That’s when, right when I was about to course correct, I saw it. Right between a boxset of George RR Martin books and a free baby pitbull. The perfect ad.
APPLE IPHONE 8 PLUS 256GB - $120 (RED(SPECIAL))
> Functions perfectly. Scuffed on the sides but comes with 2 cases. No charger.
> Factory unlocked. (GSM)
> CASH ONLY!! No negotiations.
It was an unbelievable deal. I should have thought about that some more while I was composing an inquiry to the scrambled email craigslist provided.
I really should have thought about it when my email got an immediate response mere seconds after I had sent it. But I only had 30 minutes of internet access left and I was riding on that sort-of-high-like energy that I woke up with, so, in the moment, it was easy to ignore.
Not wanting to waste any more time in foreplay, than I needed to, I responded back to-the-point-ly.
> Hey, thanks for getting back to me. Honestly, I’m in a situation and I need a phone asap. Is there any way I could come pick it up today?
This time, it took them a little longer to respond, but still, I got a ping back in less than a minute.
< Yh. I’m omw to the huntsville library by the mm. 20min. I’ll be in the parking lot by busted lamp. Greg shirt.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Red flag, red flag. I know. But the library is a public place and it’s not weird that someone would go to it. That’s what public places are for. I didn’t even think to think about it as a coincidence because it made perfect sense to meet someone from the internet in a nice, open, surveilled location like a library.
I would have liked to use the remaining internet time to browse around for other stuff, but since the seller was already on his way, I knew I had to get the hell up and go find someplace to withdraw some cash.
Back outside in the heat made it easy to recollect the topography I collected vaguely on the drive in. After a few roundabouts and u-turns, I managed to spot a hodunk atm machine, take out 2 $100 bills and backtrack myself back to the library about a minute before the 20 was out.
I didn’t see it before, but on the way back in, I spotted that busted post he was talking about. I pulled under it into a parking spot, taking the small shaded section that a tree from the other side of the curb lovingly covered.
Before I could even shift the car into park, a blur of motion whipped past me and slid into some slot a few spots away. With my hand still hovering over the stick, I turned my neck to make sure I wasn’t about to be the victim of a drive-by.
Nope.
There was no gang of thugs or a cap to be popped in my head. Just a really sleek black Lexus with windows tinted to total impenetrability. For half a second, I wondered how the inside of the car compared to a bath of hot cooking oil, then remembered how nice the car was, and felt a small pang of envy at the probability that the owner of this car probably felt cold air as soon as it was turned on. Lucky fuck.
I watched for a few moments, full of curiosity about the person who was going to get out of that car.
And let me tell you… he was something.
Well, I could smell him before I saw him. As soon as he cracked the door, any illusion or preconception I had of the guy that owned a quarter-million dollar car was instantly shattered. Car fucking reeked. It was rancid. Nasty. Moldy. Copper-y. I don’t know what the dude had in his car, but it must have been packed—caked—in there, everywhere, in every crevice; because there were scents coming out of that car that a human shouldn’t even be able to identify from the distance I was from it.
But what was worse than the cave was the monster that emerged from it. It came in parts—slowly, staggering—distressed leather Birkenstocks under lint-infested Froot of the Loom ankle socks; a pale, veiny ankle, and a pale, veiny knee, then thigh; then, janky ass-length denim booty shorts; and a white shirt tye-dyed with pizza oil that had the name ‘Greg’ plastered on the front of it in comic sans. To top it off, the Abomination had a small head with big feminine eyes and a crown of stringy light brown hair that was just long enough to caress the back of his dirt-caked neck.
He kind of reminded me of the my precious guy from LOTR or Harry Potter or whatever it is. Or maybe he reminded me of the average reddit user.
Ha ha. Just kidding.
But really, the guy was fucking grody. Seriously. I had to compose myself by holding back vomit after rolling up my window.
Unfortunately, I knew this was my guy. It was the Greg shirt. I thought it had been a typo in the email, but I guess he was being serious about that detail.
It was probably rude, but I just sat in my car for a few minutes trying to catch my breath—hacking and coughing like a lifelong smoker dying of hole-in-throat. In my defense, it was rude of him to show up like he had been roughing it as a hobo in LA when he clearly wasn’t in any kind of financial ruins. And even homeless people shower in the rain.
When I was done, I looked back out of my car window to check to see if he was still there. He was; leaning against the trunk of the car, picking up what was presumably my new phone every few seconds and taking a little scroll on the display. I huffed. Thought about putting my car back into shift and just leaving, not dealing with it. I should have, but I didn’t. I just muttered an “Oh God,” turned my car off and got out of it.
The sweltering heat had almost melted the disgusting aromas into the oxygen around me and I felt my knees becoming progressively weaker under me the closer I got to the guy. He watched me the whole time, looking almost bored with my grandiose display of effort. When I finally reached him, I had worn myself out so much that I couldn’t open my mouth to speak. Not that I wanted to open my mouth anyway.
At first, we just acknowledged each other silently, just staring at each other. He was sweaty. The sweat on his face was so plump and defined it started to make me uncomfortable.
After a few moments of ambient silence, he flicked the phone in his hand up towards my face. I looked down to see the phone wake up and greet me with a busty, blue-haired anime chick smiling and holding up a deuce.
Completely at a loss for words, I used one of my fingers to test the phone. I fumbled around for only about 10 seconds before I decided I couldn’t do it anymore and pulled the 200 from my pocket and waved it in front of him. He eyed me warily and almost simultaneously, we swapped goods with the other, dropping one thing and snatching the other. I looked at the phone. He looked at the bills, holding them up in the sunlight, one by one, checking for legitimacy. I scoffed. He looked back at me, but continued our silent streak. I guess neither of us were interested in a conversation with the other.
I also guessed he was satisfied because when he stopped looking at my real money, he pushed past me and got back into his car. I moved out of the way just fast enough that he couldn’t flatten me. He threw a plastic bag out of his window as he sped away and I glanced into them to find the haphazardly packed accessories he’d promised.
I couldn’t do anything for a while except stand there flabbergasted. I mean, I had heard things about Craigslist, but I never thought it would’ve been that bad.
I decided to go back in the library. There was no way I was taking that dude’s upwiped phone back to my place. It’s weird, you know? What kind of asshole doesn’t clean the phone he sells you before handing it over, right? He was weird enough, I didn’t need the extra stress of him tracking me down and breaking into my apartment at 3 in the morning and doing god-knows-what to me.
After I got back inside, I took some cookies and water and went straight to the lobby area. I plopped down on a seat and collected myself, glad to be comfortable again. I didn’t notice it before, but the place had to have been extra sanitized for covid, because the scent of tequila and ethanol totally cleaned my nasal palette and made me feel clean.
I looked down and turned the phone over in my hand. Surprisingly, it appeared to be in pristine condition. There were no scratches, or dents, and the camera looked ok. I looked at the screen and the display seemed to be in good condition, too. On the lock screen, I tapped on the flashlight widget; then, I opened the camera and tried out the front and back. So far, everything seemed to work.
In the top left, it said the carrier was ‘Spirit,’ which worried me because it signified that this might be a clone phone. It had full bars, but that didn’t do much to dissuade me. The phone didn’t have a password, I just had to swipe to unlock. I did.
Then, I was greeted with a background that was a more explicit portrait of the girl on the lock screen. I cringed. Fucking weeaboos.
Look, I’m not gonna lie—it was not my instinct to immediately wipe the phone. My instinct was to look through the guy’s phone. Was it wrong? Yes, probably. But I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to look through Booty Short’s phone when he looked like he was the exact kind of guy you should keep an eye on.
I mean, who knows what kind of depraved shit he had on the thing? I thought If I was lucky (and somebody else was unlucky), I’d find some good evidence of a murder or kidnapping and get the dual benefits of one of those cash rewards the police are always offering for ‘tips’ and the status of hero in some local news headlines.
Yeah, yeah—I’m an asshole. I know. And Curiosity killed the Matt, I know.
But I really couldn’t help myself.
The first thing I went to was the photos app. It was full of nothing but dimly-lit selfies and more folders of porn than any one person should ever see in their lives. Nothing interesting.
Second, I tried messages. But, just like you’d expect, the dude had nobody he was talking to. Everything seemed to be an automated message from fast food places except for one conversation with a girl named Amy who he kept begging for nudes.
Contacts. Nothing. Files. Nothing. Wallet. Nothing.
His phone was like a desert. No calls, no reminders, not even any ads from the 100 or so games he had spread across 20 landing pages.
That was, until, I decided to go into his notes.
Now his notes…those were weird.
When I pressed the shortcut, the familiar orange and white schemed app didn’t come up; instead, a yelp-like yellow logo on a blue background popped up. It bobbed around like a loading cursor until it decided to become smaller and read the word ‘NOTES’ before quickly popping into a different screen.
I blinked slowly. I was sure of it now—this is where BS was hiding his weird shit. I smiled evilly. I probably looked really stupid.
The screen was now showing me a page with a pinned map and a list under it. I moved the map around and the text under it automatically reloaded and shuffled and spit out some more list items. Curiously, I read some of the them:
} 9 items, Shop/Delivery, $324.65
} 35 mins, Task, $169.72 — $200 tip
} 1 item, Pick Up/Disposal, $6500.00 — $150 tip
I blinked again. “What the fuck?” I muttered. I wasn’t sure exactly, but I was sure this guy was either running or was a member of some kind of fucked-up Doordash type of service. I clicked the hamburger menu in the top left to see a couple of tabs—account; about, customer service. That’s all I saw before the app suddenly locked me out, saying ‘This user has been deactivated. Please sign in or make a new account**.’
I haven’t done anything since then except get on to reddit to type this up. You know, just in case I disappear or something in the next 3 days. I’m thinking about signing up and trying it. But only if it’s nothing too weird. Then it’s easy money, right? Is that crazy? Should I try it out? You guys have any ideas?