Portland Craigslist is surely the most flaccid marketplace in the history of economics. It's the polar opposite (which is redundant, by the way) of the “flea market”.
That term actually scared me as a kid. I imagined an actual dermatological threat lurking under those tables, sure to offset their promise of bargains. But at least, by name-dropping a parasite, you can fend off a lot of jerks.
Not so with the Craig. Long-since devolved below the ability to actually haggle, many Craigslisters approach the buying and selling of goods with the same vigor they do leaving a post-it note on the fridge for their housemates. With noses aloft and tails tucked, straight from the weed store/barber shop, they come without even the most basic ability to conduct commerce.
“This AC unit is worth $150,” I say, “and I only want $40 for it. Can you please just give it to me?”
“Hmmm. I dunno. I don't feel hot right now.”
“But are you aware of the earth's rotation around the sun? Because, in about 9 months....”
And on it goes.
This cocksucker could be my child, easily. And he could also buy everything I have ever owned, 20 times over, and fit it into the back of his Mini.
Also he wears a t-shirt bearing a logo of a fixed-gear bicycle that says “JAMA”.
“Huh,” I say, trying to keep things from escalating to the violence he deserves,
“is that the Journal of the American Medical Association?"
He actually smirks, and says “no, it's a software company."
Of course it is.