Keeping in theme with retard rants I thought I’d post this little rant about a chair and a flea market that has standards.
Originally posted October 27, 2002
Every so often I have a caring moment. I’ll admit it’s rare, but they do come. We have had this recliner for years and I decided that it was time to get ride of it. Rather then just giving it away to one of my poorer friends. You know these people that aren’t really looking to have matching furniture. All they really care about is having something they can sit in. You have one of these friends if you walk into their house and they have a red bean bag instead of a lazy boy. If you step into their living room and the focal point is a bong, you know the people I speak of. Anyway, I decided that this buddy didn’t need the recliner. He has a bean bag for Christ sake. That just screams out comfort. There are people who need it more. So Goodwill was my destination. Okay, I’m just yanking on your chain. I wanted to get rid of this ugly piece of crap of a chair and none of my so called friends would take it, so I had no choice but to hall it off to Goodwill. I’d like to take this moment to speak to all of my buddies that refused my gift. (I hope you all shit out a tumor the size of plum.
I pull up to the backend of Goodwill where the furniture drop off is, and this guy comes out to review my chair to see if it fits their standards. Now I’m thinking if Goodwill uses the same standards to choose furniture as they did to hire this guy, my chair is as good as gone. This guy looked as if he had been trapped in a coalmine for the last twelve years and had just escaped.
He inspects this chair for like a good couple of minutes, walking around it and getting in close, shaking his head and scratching his snowball-stacked, dandruff head. And the whole time I’m thinking, it’s a fucking recliner and you work for Goodwill. Know your place in society, I mean this numb-fuck is acting like he’s an auto claims adjuster going over a totaled car.
Finally after standing outside of Goodwill for what I felt was longer then anyone with a real life should, he looked at me and says, “I’m sorry, but there is a little wearing on your chair, so we can’t accept it.”
Okay, here is the deal. The chair was good enough for me, why in the fuck isn’t good enough for them? I mean isn’t that a flat out attack on my character. I’ve been inside their store before. They sell shit. They sell used underwear, now maybe I’m insane, but that’s foul. Any store that has the policy of selling grandpa’s used old man underwear should have no problem with a chair with a little wear and tear. I mean come on, that’s complete bullshit! I could just see it, “I’m sorry we can’t take your recliner, but would you like this lovely pair of underwear. A sweet old man brought them in and donated them to us just before he dropped dead in the isle from colon cancer.”
And when did Goodwill start getting picky anyway? It’s not like I’m trying to sell it to them. It’s a donation for their fucking cause! They have employees with Down syndrome, which to me is a little misleading. Are you picky or not, just make up your minds! I have nothing against a person with Down syndrome but these are the people that need the furniture the most. They’re forty-five and living alone for the first time. I am Sam doesn’t need a chair that’s in perfect condition, you know what he needs? He needs a pair of eyes that don’t sink back into his skull that’s what he needs. He needs a head that doesn’t look like it was shoved inside a nest of bees. Give him a God who doesn’t punish him because his mommy and daddy had premarital sex and he’s a happy I am Sam.The bottom line here is they don’t ask for much. So just take my fucking recliner!
Look, you don’t bite the hand that feeds you. If someone offers you a gift for the good will of man, you say, “Thank you, that was very kind of you.” So I say, “Fuck Goodwill.” I wouldn’t donate a turd rapped in a box with a bow on top. You know what I ended up doing with that chair. I know this friend; he knows how to make things disappear. Truly though that’s the saddest part of this story, they could have had a recliner in decent condition but instead they’d rather see it dumped off on the side of the road somewhere. The ironic part of the story is that someone was probably on there way to the Goodwill and drove by my recliner, saw it off to the side, and thought “Hey, look at that, someone just dumped a perfectly good recliner. That’ll match the bean bag and bong ensemble that I have in my living room and I don’t even have to drive all the way down to Goodwill to buy one there.”