All I wanted to do was advertise my lawnmower for sale. You'd think that would be quite straightforward. But noooo, not with The unAustralian newspaper.
"Can I take your ad?" a cheerful typist answered when I called the hotline.
"Ah ... yes, I want to sell my lawnmower," I said.
"In the Wanted to Sell section? Certainly, sir. What do you want to say?" she said, fingers obviously ready at her keyboard.
"Um ... what about 'Lawnmower' and then my phone number?" I said.
I sensed her apprehension and I heard no typing.
"Too much information?" I asked.
"No ... er ... sir, actually you probably need a few more details to attract prospective buyers," she said. "Concentrate on some of the selling points."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well, sir, perhaps you could say what kind of lawn mower it is."
"It's an orange one ... or at least it was when I bought it nine years ago. You can still see some bits of orange though between the caked-up dry grass."
"No, I'm not sure the colour - or even the colour it used to be - is all that relevant," she said. "How about telling me what make of lawnmower it is?"
"I dunno," I said. "There used to be a model number on the side. I know they don't make them any more. It's probably still there under all the dried crud, but I can't see it."
"Um, let's see," she said. "Maybe you can tell me if it is a two-stroke or a four-strike engine. Prospective buyers probably would want to know that."
"It's neither," I said. "It used to be electric," I said.
"Used to be? How do you mean, sir?" she asked.
"I think the engine is shot," I said. "All it does now is go rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and blows one of the house fuses."
"Oh, that doesn't sound very good," she said.
"Too right," I said. "I took it into the repair shop, and they said it would cost just as much to fix it as buy a new one. That's why I want to sell it."
"I see," she said. "Perhaps a handyman will buy it and do it up more cheaply than the repair shop can."
"Yeah, that's what I reckoned," I said. "I just hope they can fix the wheels, too, though."
"The wheels?" the typist said. "What's wrong with the wheels?"
"Nothing," I said. "They're nearly as good as the day I bought the lawnmower. Good tyres and they go round and round and round, no worries."
"But you said you hoped the buyer could fix them?" she said.
"Yeah, well, they keep falling off, that's all," I said. "They're good wheels though. If someone fixes them on really tightly, they go round and round and round, no worries. Unless of course, the engine is burnt out. Then the wheels just seem to sit there doing bugger-all as the lawnmower goes rrrrrrrrrrrrrr and blows a house fuse. That's not the end of the world though, unless you don't happen to twig what's happening and great uncle Isaac, whose head you are cryogenically storing in the freezer, begins to thaw out. Could be worse though. The lawnmower engine could suddenly start, unexpectedly, roar into life and you could accidentally run over the power cord and electrocute yourself and short the power circuit at the same time. Then your wife really would have some mess to clean up."
"I see," said the typist. "And ... er ... how much do you want to ask for it?"
"As much as I can get, or nearest offer," I said. "How much will this ad cost me? I'd better factor that in."
"Ten dollars a line," she said.
"So what do you reckon I should say in the ad?" I asked, hoping to get some expert advice.
"Oh dear, let's see," she said. She coughed. It sounded a bit like suppressed laughter. "How about just 'Lawnmower' and your phone number?"
©February 27, 2001 John Martin. All Rights Reserved
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All stressed up, no way to mow
I should have known that you get what you pay for.
I bought a push mower for $5 at our local recycling centre last week.
"Hey," I told my wife Katherine. "Who cares if I does not work too well. It will give me some good aerobic exercise pushing it."