Adding Insult To Injury

This poor guy’s professional pride was totally obliterated by a snooty customer. The backroom smelled of varnish, as I sprayed the final coat on what had been a weathered pile of junk. My hands were stained and sticky from the stripper that I’d used, my clothes were full of holes and really stunk. I’d been working hard all day with chemicals and sanders to get another “heirloom” looking good. My line of work demanded I inhale the toxic fumes…a price I pay for saving ancient wood. This old china closet…from a recent buying trip…(the rooms and gas…a thousand bucks or more)… Had to be refinished, and it needed half the glass…a leg…a crown…some gluing…and a door! When I got it home and started in, I’d told my wife, “I think the fumes are getting to my mind. Now - as I evaluate the work I’ll have to do - I really wish we’d left this thing behind.” Nonetheless, at last I had it looking really good, and when the final finish coat was dry, I rubbed it down…installed the glass…then stepped away to view the toughest project I would ever buy. Every time I looked at it it actually made me cringe, reminding me of all the work it took. Stripping…sanding…gluing…clamping…making all the parts - but I was proud of how I’d made it look. All the extra steps I’d taken made it look superb. I felt that it could pass for “close to mint.” And I was actually quite impressed to see what I had done…a nice reward for all the time I’d spent. Adding up the cost to find it…buy it…get it home, and then the cost to get it looking good, We would have to sell the piece for close to seven grand to make a couple bucks…but felt we could. We loaded up the truck to do a really special show, which most the dealers felt to be the best. I was out to prove that all my work was not in vain, and this important show would be the test. No one else around us had a china quite as nice, and pieces this refined were selling high. I marked it up a couple grand to play the stupid game that buyers always think they have to try. A lady in a fancy fur - Chihuahua in her arms - appeared from out of nowhere, early on. She seemed sincerely interested, looked it over good, then, almost just as quickly…she was gone. Couple minutes later, she would come back with a friend. The two of them would really check it out. I approached them casually, then asked the one in fur, “Anything you’d like to ask about?” “Yes, I would,” she quickly said. “Is this the best you’ll do?” I smiled and calmly countered - with a laugh – “How much were you thinking? It’s a very handsome piece.” She said, “To tell the truth…I’d give you half.” “Half of nine is forty-five,” I hollered in a rage. “That offer is ridiculous… and ma’am… Your dog is super ugly! And I would like to know - just how big a fool you think I am!” “I’d have offered more,” she snapped…(and this would tick me off)…“this isn’t something we can not afford… But I’m afraid we’d have too much invested in the piece…by the time we ...got the thing restored!”