Boxed on the Curb

I answered a call the other day. The voice on the other end asked for a trainer. I asked if he wanted a stationary trainer or one he could mount his bike to. He told me he wanted one to mount his bike to. I told him all about the models that we had in stock, including one model which I personally owned and had been using for six years. He asked me which one I would get if I was buying one. Trying not to sound like an asshole, I told him that I would probably get the one which I had been using for six years. He said that was the one he wanted. Then he asked: “what it would take to have that boxed on the curb for me?” I was not sure I had heard him correctly, so I asked him if he wanted it in a box on the curb. He told me that was correct. He wanted to give a credit card number over the phone, and for me to put the trainer, in its box, on the curb for him to drive by and pick it up. I asked why he would possibly need to do this, and he told me that he was late for an appointment in town at noon, and it would take him thirty minutes to get there. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was twenty minutes before noon. I suggested to him that it would take literally thirty seconds for me to run his credit card when he arrived at the shop. I managed to refrain from asking him why he couldn’t just come by after his appointment.