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LOW LIFERS, HIGH FIDELITY
Stephen R. Coffee Special to The Washington Post
Column: NOTED WITH BAD FEEDBACK
February 2, 1997; Page F1
I was sitting at
the traffic light when I heard a voice. "Hey, dude, you wanna
buy some speakers?"
Two grungy guys in
a beat-up Econoline were apparently trying to sell me something.
Right there, at Seven Corners. I was not interested, but I was
flattered. I am too old and boring to be mistaken for a dude.
"Um, no thanks."
"They're great speakers.
Big Bose speakers."
"No thanks, man."
"They'd look great
in your living room."
It's a long light at
Seven Corners.
"I really don't think
so."
"We just happen to
have some extra on the truck."
When at last our vehicles
parted ways, I began to get steamed. Clearly this was stolen merchandise.
Did I look like a crook?
The more I thought
about it, the angrier I got. I began having those fantasies. You
know the ones, where you start thinking about what you should
have done. I could have arranged to meet them, then alerted the
cops. I visualized the whole scene, the looks on their faces when
the police pulled up. They'd be sorry they messed with SuperDude.
Of course, the chances
of running into those same two hoodlums again, in this great megalopolis
full of hoodlumhood, well, that's pretty funny.
"Hey, dude, you wanna
buy some speakers?"
It was them. This was
several months later, this time on Little River Turnpike, and
they were driving a spiffy new van, but there was no doubt: It
was them. Business must be good. Or maybe they stole the van,
too.
I was speechless.
"They're great speakers."
"No thanks." SuperDude
felt a pulse of adrenaline.
"Make you a great deal."
I didn't think fast
enough to try to set a trap for them, but I got their tag number
and made for the nearest pay phone. I called the Fairfax County
Police.
"Were they driving
a green Chevy van?" asked the dispatcher.
Great, I thought, they're
already on to these guys.
"Yes!"
"They're legal."
"What?!"
"They have a license
to sell speakers out of their van. They work for some company
out of Florida."
I was stunned. Chagrined.
These guys certainly
never said that they were selling stolen merchandise, but what
was I to think? Clearly, judging from the response of the dispatcher,
I was not the first person to report them.
Grudgingly, I began
to admire their marketing strategy. Let people think you're pushing
hot stuff, so they'll assume you're giving them a good deal, whether
you are or not. Then you can laugh at the poor suckers as they
drive away with perfectly legal loot.
Pretty clever, but
what does it say about us? Clearly, enough people driving around
on Fairfax County streets were happy to go along with the scam.
Our fake hoodlums were able to make a living and even buy a nice
van. No point getting cynical. Best to just forget about it; after
all, it'll never happen again.
"Excuse me, sir."
You've got to be kidding.
Seven Corners again.
"This is going to sound
a little strange . . . "
Well, now there's a
novel approach. I checked. Different guys.
" . . . but I happen
to have an extra pair of speakers on the truck."
Do I look like a rube,
or something?
"I could sell them
to you for a great price."
These guys were driving
what looked like a company van from an audio shop, judging from
the sign on the side. Presumably, I was to think that they were
ripping off their employer. Respectable, white-collar criminals.
I still didn't need any speakers.
So business must really
be good if it's spawning imitations. Maybe this is a whole new
marketing trend: "We're ripping off someone else so we can give
you a good deal."
You can see just where
this is leading. Corporations will soon be training their employees
to act like thieves to boost sales. Imagine the clerk at a store
in the mall saying, "If you like this one, sir, I just happen
to have some extras' " -- nudge nudge, wink wink -- "that I could
make you a special deal on."
Let's hope this doesn't
catch on. It's hard enough to know what's what anymore, without
the kid at the burger stand saying, "You know, I could make that
a large fries for say, 25 cents more. No one would have to know."
So beware buying from
hoodlums. They might be legitimate.
That, at least, would
have been the moral of this story but for what happened recently
to an acquaintance of mine. He was approached by two guys in a
van in a dark parking lot. The conversation went something like
this:
"Excuse me, sir, would
you like to buy some speakers?"
"No thanks."
"Then let's go to a
money machine, because you're going to give us all your money."
You can't trust anyone
anymore. Beware of legitimate businesspeople posing as hoodlums.
They might be hoodlums.
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