When I think about it, I'm not sure I've ever even used the term *"punk bitch."* If I have, it surely must've been *decades* ago. But oh boy, is that term present after dealing with one yesterday... It's pretty rare that I get *really pissed off.* But *wow,* did this punk bitch ever do it. To a degree I question my own wellbeing, given how completely consumed with anger I was all day yesterday, and still lingering into today. Maybe I've been naive to "give people the benefit of the doubt" too often, operating from a default that generally credits someone I meet with a basic degree of common sense, decency and respect. Of course, life proves not everyone is equally rationed in these. But when certain boundaries of integrity are breached and disrespect embodied... *Mr. Nice has disa-fucking-ppeared.* ![dfbfcea4-0847-48af-a6e2-d973f63d19c9.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmP56Q79dQk7wzhJr1h31G2mjRQPepjLyJPbPVPrqv6CQ4/dfbfcea4-0847-48af-a6e2-d973f63d19c9.jpg) --- So I've had a pair of Union Ultra snowboard bindings for sale on Facebook. Price new = $399+tax. My starting asking price, as they're in fantastic condition = $300. Dude messages me, asking if I'd do $200 cash.. *"Nope."* Maybe a couple days later, I message back, saying I'd meet halfway at $250. *"I only have $200, brother."* Maybe a couple more days... *"fuck it, ok."* I wasn't gonna use 'em again as they're a mismatch for my riding style, and I sold the few boards they *would* suit better. Better just clear 'em out of my space and pass on to someone who'll appreciate 'em, giving a good deal if they're that strapped. I tell dude where I'm at, what times are good. One day, he says he can come at 4. *Ok.* Then, *ghost. Whatever.* Nearly a week passes, he messages again, asking if I'm still around. *Yeah. Repeat times that'd work.* He says could come next day at 8:30am. *Ok.* Bit on the early side for me, but figure I'll work with it and set alarm to ensure I'm up. *No sign of dude until after 9am.* Already, my spidey senses are going off, after it looking like kid practically flaked twice, on top of his lowballing. And checking my astrology: *Mercury oppose Sun transit. I could already feel the tension expressed in the ordeal.* But whatever. Give him clear instructions: come to hotel lobby at resort, lemme know when he's here, and I'd come down and meet him by the fireplace. *Simple. Yet somehow **not** for this guy.* In any case, he arrives, we sit down. I pull out the bindings for him to check out. He asks how stiff/soft they are... *repeatedly.* *Bro. Did you seriously not do your fucking homework? You go out of your way to buy something after having worked out a good fucking deal... and didn't even bother to look on the internet at any details of the actual product??* But hey, *whatever.* He asks if there's.a "card/paper" in the box. *No. There never was any. Not sure wtf he's expecting.* Then: *"will you take $150?"* I grab the bindings to put them back in the box, with my energy likely speaking rather clearly as resentment growing. *"Get out of here."* He sorta nervously, timidly retraces. *"Ok, I'll pay $200."* My patience is running out, while he fumbles with his phone and starts asking again about how soft/stiff they are. *Ugh.* Then he says some stupid shit like, "I'll go and check, and then come back later." *Bro. You have a fucking phone in your hand right now. Do you know how to use the internet? You can go to the Union website and get your fucking answer straight from the source right here, right now. Here, I'll do it for ya...* I go to the site and confirm: 6 out of 10. Just as I'd already told him. *"Ok. I'll go tell my friend I pay $200."* Not sure *why* he needed his friend's approval, but *whatever.* He implies he's gonna go consult with his friend waiting in the truck, as though he's coming back. And after a few minutes, I get the clear sense: *he ain't coming back.* I wait maybe 10 minutes before texting him. *No reply.* Only a few more, and I'm out. **If** he came back and I wasn't there, *well, maybe I'll take my sweet time going back down to reciprocate the waiting time wasted.* But nope. Never came back. Just straight *bailed.* And... *blocked me on Facebook.* *Punk bitch.* ![9b469b37-f5e9-45ca-8a2e-62afa6505680.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmTZQ5MQWSG15hxQve3mPUikNirr1oEmGUGFvJ7DoQgKXy/9b469b37-f5e9-45ca-8a2e-62afa6505680.jpg) ___ The lowballing from $300 to $200, *whatever. It's a ski town, people are broke ass. I wanted to clear the clutter outta my space, I was willing to give someone a deal.* The *second* lowball of trying to negotiate down $150 after having wasted my time after saying ok to $200... *not cool. But whatever.* The fact dude seemingly did **zero** homework on this set of bindings before coming to get them, after a price was settled, wasting my time repeatedly asking the same fucking question to which the answer is 100% clear.on the product's website and any/every review.. *dumbfounding. But whatever.*

But the fucking disrespect of wasting my time by saying he's going to go "tell his friend" the price as though he'll be back in a couple minutes, to completely bail...??

Oh man. I don't consider myself someone who makes "enemies." But my honest response to that punk bitch shit be feeling like I'm ready to go to fucking war. *And then... to discover the punk bitch fucking **blocks me on Facebook**...?* Well, to be honest, that ain't really any provocation the same as the disrespect of my time. What that *does* perhaps provoke: some pity on the fucking kid for how sad it must be for him to look in the mirror every day and see such a little *punk bitch.* ![IMG_1431.jpeg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmRJLS6gc9GTT3bmrNFivpVYCTgaViCkbpgmaFEM5WczQW/IMG_1431.jpeg) --- If dude was just dumb, didn't do ANY research on the bindings he said he wanted to buy... *ok, whatever.* If for whatever reason - whether he thought he could get away with a $150 lowball offer OR they were softer bindings than he wanted *(which could've been easily fucking determined by taking a whopping 30 seconds to simply research the fucking bindings)*... whatever. *But be a fucking adult and communicate that.*

Not fucking say you're going to "tell your friend" the price as though you're coming back in a couple minutes to buy them... and leave someone waiting there as if they've got nothing better to do, completely fucking disrespecting their time.

I dunno what country dude was from. Somewhere central/south America. And sure, *maybe his English isn't good, and he didn't know how to communicate clearly.* But rule #1 of foreign travel: RESPECT THE LOCALS. And no fucking way in hell this punk bitch could try convince himself or anyone else he did nothing wrong *when his fucking next move was to **block me on Facebook,*** so as to avoid any accountability and ensure I couldn't leave a user review. *Seriously, man.* I don’t ever wish harm on people, *but oh boy do I ever hope karma catches up **hard** with that punk bitch for the disrespect to teach him loud & clear not to waste people’s fucking time like that.* ![d71c8dda-731e-434f-a639-5c5ab85d9e92.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmXQnTD6aP3rcMMkWu5zndddDuwQiMcD3g7uQdDVqNmu8Q/d71c8dda-731e-434f-a639-5c5ab85d9e92.jpg) At least *one* good thing that came out of it: a clarity check on how *I've been valuing my own time - and who I give how much of it to on what terms.* Fuck being *nice. I'm done.* I may still give everyone a starting amount of respect & consideration by default... but perhaps this is a lesson in recalibrating that amount *a whole lot quicker* in response to subtle signs of a lack of reciprocation. And yeah, there's part of me self-doubting my response, questioning whether I should be "more forgiving" or "just let it go." But maybe sometimes *anger serves its place.* Maybe we gotta own the fury when someone blatantly disrespects us... not solely to *dwell in it* (which I might've been doing), but as a catalyst for awakening new levels of *self-respect.* Maybe at some level, dude pulled his bitch moves because *I had the door open for him to.* "Is what it is." *But/and, the opportunity to refine from hereon in.* i.e. "PRICE FIRM. Research model & specs." in ads when selling something. *No time given to lowballers. Screen out the punk bitches that aren't serious.* Or idk. Maybe life just entails dealing with disrespectful assholes at times, no matter how tightly we'd like to establish all the boundaries to keep 'em up. *Blah, blah, blah.* *Vent/rant complete.*

*But the fucking disrespect of wasting my time by saying he's going to go "tell his friend" the price as though he'll be back in a couple minutes, to completely bail...??*

Not fucking say you're going to "tell your friend" the price as though you're coming back in a couple minutes *to buy them...* and **leave someone waiting there as if they've got nothing better to do**, completely fucking disrespecting their time.

But the fucking disrespect of wasting my time by saying he's going to go "tell his friend" the price as though he'll be back in a couple minutes, to completely bail...??

Not fucking say you're going to "tell your friend" the price as though you're coming back in a couple minutes to buy them... and leave someone waiting there as if they've got nothing better to do, completely fucking disrespecting their time.

Ready steady go.