Miscommunication

Today I got off work at 6:30 AM and drove down to Fountain Inn in my truck to buy a bagger for my lawn tractor. First of all, my truck is leaking power steering fluid so I have to fill it up every time I stop. Secondly, Fountain Inn is in the opposite direction of home from where I was working last night; way in the opposite direction. Thirdly, the seller misrepresented where he lived. He said he lived in Fountain Inn; apparently he meant that he lived in the same state as Fountain Inn. He told me to call him when I got into Fountain Inn around 8:00 this morning and he would give me directions to his house. I called him at 7:55 and he gave me some simple directions to get to Main Street and then turn left onto a country road. He said "when you get to the church call me again and I will give you more directions." (This is Greenville County, SC, how many churches could there be?) I finally passed the right church and called him back. His update was: "keep driving until you cross a bridge over a river then call again." Why didn't he tell me that the first time? About 20 minutes later, I crossed a bridged and looked down and, sure enough, there was a river down there. I pulled out my phone and redialed him. He answered and I updated him on my location(at this point I was about 10 miles into Laurens County); he then said "Okay up ahead on your right you will see my house with some lawnmowers out in the yard." Apparently he thought that I had stopped while talking to him because as he said that, his house was not up ahead but immediately to the right (as evidenced by the 30+ lawnmowers in various states of disrepair in the yard to my right). Turning in required that I pull a maneuver that I usually reserve for the big white and orange vehicles that I drive (i.e. the ones that I don't own and pay for repairs on). I pulled in and looked at the bagger which he assured me would fit my mower. He also informed me that he only took cash, which I don't carry. I then got more directions from him to the nearest bank and withdrew the money. I returned, paid him, and took the bagger, then started the long journey home.

Turns out, the bagger does not fit my mower. Apparently by "yea, that will fit your mower" he meant "that will fit a mower, somewhere." Not even close. I determined with my amazing Sherlock Holmes-like detective skills that I would need a welder, a torch, and several trips to Home Depot to adapt the bagger to the mower. So I did what MacGyver would have done . . . I advertised it in the classifieds. Oh well, a waste of 3 hours, 10 gallons of gas, and a large amount of money. Now I am just afraid that the evangelist tonight is going to preach on patience. That will be rough.

PS Anyone want a Craftsmen Bagger?