Friday, 14 October 2011

Probably shouldn't delete your LinkedIN messages without reading them

When I met my husband, he handed me his business card.  3D Enterprises.  He cleaned carpets.  He cleaned so many carpets that he was able to put himself through University and buy me a diamond ring when he was done.

He cleaned bank carpets, restaurant carpets and suburban shag rug carpets.  In fact, some of the suburban wives invited him back for some extra special carpet cleaning.  I would provide you with a link - but this is a family show.

When it was time to go to graduate school in another city, Les Entreprises 3D had to meet its untimely demise.  But - wait a second - what if someone were to buy the business? The customer list? The equipment?  

And with a bit of networking and a lot of luck, my husband found that special someone who was ready to wear the 3D mantle with pride and pick up servicing suburban housewives carpet cleaning customers where he left off.  This young gentleman was keen and from what we could ascertain, honest and reliable.

The terms of payment were one major down payment and a 10 month series of post-dated cheques.

The first payment cleared.

A few of the monthly payments cleared.

Then there were the inevitable NSF cheques, some phone calls, and well, we never heard from keen young gentleman again.  

We chalked it up to life experience and went back to studying for our exams.  

That was in 1991.

Two days ago, my husband gets a LinkedIN message from keen young gentleman.  I know it's been a while, he writes, but I owe you money, and I'd like to set matters straight.

My husband opens his filing cabinet and - twenty years, eight moves and three cities later - pulls out a copy of the purchase agreement.  

E-mails keen boy back saying I am not sure exactly how many of the post-dated cheques cleared, but here are the amounts.  

Twenty four hours later my husband is holding a bank draft.

They are having lunch next week.

LinkedIN reminders drive me insane, but they are now going to send my kids to summer camp, replace my windows and buy me a new fall status bag.  OK, I'm dreaming.  But I could probably squeeze a decent dinner or two out of this pittance windfall.

Sometimes something you complain about can end up having value (that was the tie-in, were you waiting for it?)

And - if you owe someone something - knitting patterns, a book or money - don't be embarrassed to give it back.  If nothing else - it will make a great story.


  1. I *SWEAR* I didn't borrow your knitting book!

  2. Great story, told with flair. Love it!