Locational Obliviousness: Beware of Facebook Marketplace
Marketplace
My naiveness concerning the nature of Facebook Marketplace recently landed me in hot water. It's not that I hadn't used Marketplace before, in fact, I purchased the quiver of dodgy iPhones acquired over my formative years off Marketplace. It is because my past transactions were made in Margaret River, so the thought of being scammed did not cross my mind. The town's social fabric is built on the foundation of trust, reputation, security, and mutual experience, to name a few. Even so, if someone were to make an unlawful transaction, everyone would know about it. I'll say this, if Facebook is good for anything, it's the prolific vocalists on the Margaret River Community Notice Board. This sense of community capitalism followed me to the city, and I was kidnapped because of it.
Over my years of city living, Marketplace has been a valuable tool for the interior design of my apartment. From my bed base to my coffee table, it truly has been reliable. However, only recently had I used the tool to sell a product — my infamous, however, deeply missed, Mitsubishi Lancer. A car I am sure you are all familiar with. Unfortunately, the sale escalated into a life-changing event, much more complex than an exchange between money and wheels.
I had never sold anything with a price tag over $50, so it took thought to formulate an approach. In the end, making use of my commerce degree, I landed on a price-skimming strategy. I would advertise the Lancer for $3000, however, expected it to sell for a price closer to $2000. After deciding on the price, I constructed my post, addressing the Lancer's good and bad qualities. After polishing the flaws in my description, I sent it to the pool of consumers. I expected one, maybe two, people to be interested. After all, the Lancer's value was mostly sentimental, or so I thought. At this moment, I remember being in a rush, so I left my phone on the kitchen bench and jumped in the shower. Whilst showering, I imagine my phone endured what can only be described as an episode of Tourette syndrome. I was locationally oblivious that in addition to Marketplace being a cruel and unjust beast, it is also a sea full of car flippers who refresh browsers faster than the speed of their internet connection. Ready to leave the house, I picked up my wallet, keys, and then phone, realising my inbox was completely flooded. I received 52 messages within roughly 15 minutes. Whatever my plans were, were no more. Business needed attending to.
Initially, I thought this was great. I thought I would easily be able to make the $3000 sale. However, as I progressively read through my inbox, I noticed many of these people seemed to be a little unhinged, spamming poorly crafted messages as if their life depended on it.
I'm not too keen on having my door kicked in by the Marketplace mafia, so for my concern, I will refer to my kidnapper as John Smith (very typical, I know).
Here is our thread of conversation:
John: Hi Noah, Is this still available? John: I am keen about this. John: 👍 John: 👍 John: 👍 John: 👍 John: 👍 John: ??? John: I am a student and need this car.John: ???John: ??John: ????John: I really need this car.John: Address please.John: I can come now. John: With CashJohn: Address please I am a student and really need rhis.John: This* Me: Hi sorry mate come now for a look if you'd like. The address is **********. Got a couple people coming to have a look.John: ComingJohn: On my way!John: I am on my way!
Reading through this, I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. I probably wasn't at all. I was overwhelmed. I was formulating a universal response for numerous customers, which is no easy task. I finally decided to provide the five quickest responders with first mover advantage, allowing only the best car flippers to flex their competitive edge. John Smith was among this group, who arrived promptly. On his arrival, John did not make a good impression. In fact, the more time I spent with John (more than I would have liked), I realised he was a soulless, manipulative, and downright immoral human being; and the fact he was the only one to view the Lancer in all its glory saddens me. Thus, John somewhat debunks the 'don't judge a book by its cover philosophy.' That said, despite his demeanour, I tried not to make assumptions — probably why I replied to his message. Hence initially, I accepted John's word and remained optimistic about the sale I would soon execute. This changed very quickly.
The Lancer
I understand the Lancer was a head-turner for all the wrong reasons, but it drove me where I needed to go. Despite its cosmetics flaws and suspension issue, there were no mechanical concerns, plus, I had just equipped it with a new set of tyres. So, if John really were a poor university student looking for a cheap car to navigate himself across the city, this sale would have been an honest one. After all, that is why I brought the car in the first place.
The Heist
John and his two dominions arrived in what I want to say was a 2003 Toyota Camry, or at least something close to it. One of his companions remained in the car for the entirety of this ordeal, and the other rushed towards me in reaction to the storm of customers who arrived immediately after they did. Whilst this was happening, I was solving a math problem. Unless there was a mid-afternoon street party I was unaware of, more than five people were at the address. Suddenly there was a small, though rather jacked, man standing in front of me, let's call him Austin (this will make sense shortly). Rather than introduce himself, without any negotiation, he offered to pay $4000 before even laying eyes on the car. For a moment, I reacted by pondering this bizarre interaction, and then I processed what he had said. Although I knew the car was not worth $4000, I'd be lying if I argued the offer didn't catch my attention. In acknowledging this and the number of people arriving for viewing, I thought I would be playing a game of morals rather than a game of business. This was not the case.
Out of nowhere, John, acting as intimidating as he could, stormed in and ended the conversation. He wanted to know where the car was. I told him I had parked it around the corner, and the three of us began to rush towards it, leading the herd of customers who had gathered adjacent. Instead of inspecting the vehicle, John immediately asked to take it for a test drive and requested I come with him, so I did. I told the customers I'd be back in a few minutes. A few minutes turned into almost an hour.
Understanding Marketplace
At one point during my kidnapping, John began to explain the nature of Marketplace. He described it as a tool utilised by immoral agents, or in other words, scammers (like himself), who rip off vulnerable and oblivious people (like myself). He criticised those among the small gathering situated in front of my apartment building, saying, "I know them," and they are "bad people." I think he told me this in an attempt to justify his actions and alter my judgment of his character. Unfortunately for him, this was no "I am Ironman," moment I imagine he envisioned it would be. I realised John was oblivious to the perceived perspective of his character and had his virtues mistaken for vices.
Back to the story.
I was in the passenger seat, John was driving, and Austin was spread across the back. As we began to drive, John Immediately praised the Lancer (as he should). I remember him saying it was an "easy drive." He thought it was so good he confirmed what his friend had told me earlier, he would purchase it for $4000. However, there was a catch; he needed me to mark the Marketplace listing as sold right away. Honestly, at this point, I would have been happy to sell John the car, however, I thought it would only be fair to allow my other customers to inspect before confirming a transaction. After all, they did travel to my apartment. So, I asked John to drive back, and if the bidders did not offer a better price (or if there were no one I'd prefer to conduct business with), the Lancer would be his. Oddly enough, he refused, saying he would only return to the address if I cleared the listing instantly. I was now questioning the reality of my situation. I was in a car with two strangers and had no control over where I was travelling. I noticed the left indicator switch on; we were headed for Freeway North. My optimism was slowly trickling away.
After minutes of back-and-forth negotiation, I noticed we were bypassing the city. So, in one last attempt, I told him I would only comply with his request if he took me home immediately, he refused, and I caved. My safety is more important than money I thought. I then marked the Lancer as sold. Still heading North, rather than praising the car, he was now criticising it; I certainly would not be receiving $4000 I rightly thought. In fact, John started questioning my morality, "Come on, you don't really think this is worth $4000?" he said. He was right, I didn't. But the matter of fact was, throughout this joyride, customers were offering to pay prices even higher than $4000. This made me ponder the economic environment of the car market. Like today, when I sold the car, inflation was soaring. So rather than questioning the morality of my customers, I thought I had grossly undervalued the Lancer. As it turns out, I was just locationally oblivious.
After roughly 20 minutes of driving northward, John took an exit. I asked if he was taking me home, but he didn't answer, he was busy talking to his cousin over the phone — kidnapping would not be the only crime he would commit that day. Although I did not understand what he was saying, as his first language was something other than English, after a solid half-an-hour of watching this man operate, it became obvious he was manic. Suddenly the car filled with laughter. Austin, who had been so silent I had almost forgotten of his existence, was even chuckling. I was the only one with my lid shut. I wasn't thinking, 'Oh boy, John's cousin must be quite the jokester,' I was thinking 'I am trapped in a death box with a psychopath behind the wheel.' I was now frantically texting my friends. I had entered panic mode.
Quite literally, the backseat bandit caught on to my actions. Much like Austin Powers, he began to look over the passenger seat and down at my device. He knew I was up to something. Again, he started talking to John in another language. Whilst this was happening, I looked ahead and realised we were approaching an exit for Freeway South. Surely we were headed back I thought. A left turn at the roundabout and we would almost be home, unfortunately, John's right indicator flashed. However, rather than turn right, the next thing I knew, the three of us were driving in loops. Although my kidnappers seemed to enjoy this, I certainly did not. After circling the roundabout twice, I finally built up my courage, "What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed. John apologised, which I thought was unusual, and then merged left onto the freeway. Finally, we were headed home.
Whilst navigating between Austin's detection abilities and John's childlike behaviour, my focus shifted. Unless I had nerve damage I was unaware of, my leg was numb to the extent I had no feeling of my phone vibrating inside my jean pocket. I realised only my friends' concerns after checking my phone for a second time. To respond without Austin looking over my shoulder, I placed my body firmly against the car door, replying with my phone facing the passenger seat window. Suddenly it was ringing, and I answered.
Although my friend had some understanding of my situation, the text I formulated early was under less-than-ideal circumstances:
"Yo can you lease come to my house right now. All these guys I swear I trying to stea my car."
Despite the multiple typos, it does not encompass my situation. They were not trying to steal my car, I was unlawfully manipulated to sell at a price much lower than I had asked. The kidnapping was only a by-product of their mischievousness. I tried to explain this over the phone, but my friend struggled to make out what I was saying. I spoke in metaphors; I didn't want Austin to catch on. Unfortunately, he did, and I hung up. Thankfully, home was just around the corner. At this point, money was no longer an issue, I needed security. A surge of relief rushed through me after I laid eyes on my apartment building, though this was nothing more than a jolt. We passed my apartment by. John proceeded to drive, fortunately not far, parking at the end of the street adjacent to my apartment building.
Thought
Eventually, John's motive was clear. He was not manic, he was strategic. As he drove through the city, one hand on the wheel and the other on his phone, he was time-killing. He wanted to ensure that in returning to my apartment, all his competition had given up and left. If you can recall, John was accompanied by someone other than Austin, a lookout, who monitored the movements outside my apartment in our absence. From the comfort of the perceived Toyota Camry, he kept John informed of the dying street party throughout our inner-city road trip. This explains two things: First, John's terrible habit of texting and driving, and second, the almost hour-long journey he had taken me on.
Back to the story
As he pulled up, I immediately escaped the car and contemplated my alternatives. Should I make a run for it? Or should I defend the legacy of my Mitsubishi? However, rather than acting, I just stood there discombobulated. After my reaction, my kidnappers exited the Lancer promptly. It was only now that, for the first time, John would inspect the car's exterior. And as it turned out, he was oblivious to the Lancer's cosmetic issues. He had disregarded the cosmetic flaws evident in the images and outlined in the description of my Marketplace post. His concern was mostly attributed to the bumper of the car, which I had made clear to be the most significant flaw. Being smart, I asked him if he had read my post. In return, the Lancer and I received a plethora of criticism. With all this said, in reflection, I can somewhat understand John's obliviousness. Not to play devil's advocate on my kidnapping, but after all, John is a car flipper, and I would assume he has easy and cheap access to cosmetic replacement. So, although the images and my description revealed the car to be no marvel, the post-headline stated the Lancer was a 2008 model, had only driven 178,000km, and had no mechanical issues. This would have gotten John's feet tapping, or more accurately, fingers, procuring first mover advantage.
John's frustration escalated into a kicking of the bumper, and it was at this point I noticed Austin began a light jog toward my apartment. In pondering Austin's motive, John began to speak. He told me he would be purchasing the Lancer for $1500; I told him he wouldn't be purchasing it at all. In reasoning his offer, I stopped him and then told him my own. I told him I was uninterested in conducting business with someone of his nature (Austin's absence made this confrontation much easier). I asked for my key back "No," he said bluntly. I asked again. Though this time, instead of replying, he reached for his pocket. I thought he, much like myself earlier that day, had caved. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case. He literally and figuratively had deep pockets, scrummaging through his baggy jeans before pulling out a fistful of $50 notes; no key was in sight. For almost a minute, we stood silently, waiting as he counted the stash. When he finished, he placed $200 worth of $50 notes onto the palm of my hand, and the surplus back in his pocket. He thought this would somehow convince me to accept his offer, it didn't. However, looking back, it should have. After all, I was dealing with criminals and the bad kind. For all I know, John could have been reaching for a knife in those bottomless pockets. I had no idea of their capabilities or intentions.
Despite my multiple persuasion attempts, John's position remained, he was taking the Lancer home. After some time, I conformed to this, though I was still bartering, only now for a higher selling price rather than my key. I said I would not accept anything under $2000; John was initially uninterested. I noticed his eyes lose my attention, so I followed them, turning around when I noticed Austin — this time running moderately — headed towards us with a handful of transfer papers. They had been manifesting this scenario the entire time I thought. They expected my signature before I had even agreed to sell. The jigsaw was no longer a puzzle, I understood my kidnappers' motives and was fed up. I looked into John's dark and mysterious eyes, and told him directly I would not be signing the papers. In words far less intimidating, I said his behaviour — much like the Lancer — has flaws, and his actions reflect my disapproval of his offer. If he had acknowledged my requests, not lied about his poor university student status, and not taken me on an inner-city road trip without consent, I may have considered signing at his price. After this vigorous outburst, I thought I had made a terrible mistake. However, I was proud nonetheless, and to my surprise, John was shocked. Tired of negotiating, he stood still, looked at Austin and then back at me and agreed to $2000. Great! Now, get me the fuck out of here I thought.
I am unsure why, but the three of us made the final transaction from inside the Lancer — not the smartest move on my end. Austin handed the papers to John, who began pointing his finger where I needed to sign. Desperate to escape my situation, I did what had to be done. John handed me $2000, and then I instantly reached for the handle on the passenger door, though before leaving, he attempted to rob me once more. He said the car was low on fuel, I said maybe if you hadn't taken me on a tour around the city it wouldn't be. He then asked for a $50 note, I ignored him and exited the Lancer for what would be the last time ever. The audacity I thought.
Afterwards
I spent the remainder of my day as any victim of a kidnapping would. I gathered my thoughts and made my way to my friend's apartment, where I spilled the events of my afternoon over whatever beer was in the fridge. Once my thinking was rational, my mates and I drove to the police station to report the incident. After waiting in the lobby for roughly 10 minutes, I heard my name being called. I was confident that soon John would be receiving the justice he deserved. However, unfortunately, he is still flipping kids for cars to this day. The police were unhelpful for the following reasons: The only evidence of interaction I had was a string of manic texts which occurred before the event, they were not physical, and it was two-words against one. There was no case for argument. Although, throughout my kidnapping there were actions I could have taken to develop my case, I was rightly focused on security. I left the police station somewhat concerned about the nature of our justice system, but also relieved. I had done what I could, and had money in my pocket, but most importantly, I was safe and it was over.
Although I would have sold John a rock for $2000, money was not my concern. $2000 is what I originally expected. I was concerned more about how this whole situation made me feel — extremely vulnerable. This was life-changing, but the more I think about it, it changed my life for the better. Though being a student journalist, I try stay rather informed about the criminality existing in my city, I never thought I would be a victim. Now, I think of the crime pool much like surfing. Sharks never concerned me until I physically saw one. Finally, up until this moment, I had never felt so helpless. So, beware of your locational context in conducting business on Marketplace, as its saturation of car flippers bothers me daily. And from what John had told me, plus the heard of desperate flippers who had gathered outside my apartment building, it seems as if locationally oblivious people are taken advantage of far too often. So, although you live and you learn, when it comes to selling on Marketplace, I encourage learning beforehand.
A quote I’ve been pondering…
“If Resistence couldn’t be beaten, there would be no Fifth Symphony, no Romeo and Juliet, no Golden Gate Bridge. Defeating Resistence is like giving birth. It seems absolutely impossible until you remember that women have been pulling it off successfully, with support and without, for fifty million years.” ~ Steven Pressfield
By no means is this the most prolific takeaway I acquired from the War of Art, though I read the book months ago, and this is the passage my mind seems to reflect upon most frequently.
I love to write and generally look forward to it, and I am often stunned by the speed at which my 90-minute writing bouts seem to pass by. But I’ll be honest, there are times when I dread the act, sitting and staring at the piss I had poured out my fingers as I await my alarm to ring.
As you know, I use particular techniques to entice the muse (as Pressfield would say), however, there is no magical ritual or secret blend of coffee to combat resistance. Instead, there is an undeniable stack of proof of those who have conquered it. The work has to get done one way or another. So thank god for willpower. The world would be far less beautiful without it.
Someone I find inspiring as of late…
Fergus Crawley
Here is a video to ignite your Journey through his plethora of content.
I have become increasingly interested in hybrid athletes and not only Fergus Crawley. From Cameron Hane's daily climb to the summit of Mount Pisgah to Haruki Murakami's motive for long-distance running (here is a link to his memoir), I have been inspired.
Although hybrids such as David Goggins are motivating, some look upon his drive as manic. For example, I go surfing because I enjoy surfing, whereas Goggins runs to be at peace with his mind — he has said he hates running on multiple occasions. And exactly this is what makes Crawley unique. From what I know, he seems like a regular guy you could sit down and have a beer with. In other words, he rationalises behaviour perceived to be absurd.
Despite his athleticism, he is also inquisitive, making for a great podcaster. Here is a link to The Modern Mind. In this episode, he discusses the motive behind Nir Eyal’s book, In-distract-able.
A song I’ve been listening to…
The Narcissist | Blur
The Narcissist has provoked my enthusiasm for Blur’s upcoming album, The Ballad of Darren.
The Narcissist is Blur’s latest track, and I don’t have much to say about it, other than check it out! As you know, Oasis is my favourite band, so my enthusiasm for brit-pop is a given. Regardless of the lyrics, I love how the track sounds, nostalgic. In fact, I predict if this track were released 25 years ago, it would be a classic today.
Damon Albarn has been a huge inspiration over my lifetime, especially when I find myself making a return to songwriting, and recently he has been busier than ever. Although I wasn’t the biggest fan of the Gorillaz latest LP, Cracker Island, two full-length releases in a single year is a tremendous effort nonetheless.
Enjoy!