When it’s on Freecycle, clearly. I yesterday advertised a rather fetching (if not to my taste) gold / blue pouffe with a “fleur de lys” pattern, which I had inherited with my rental flat. A lady called Nerys responded in the unctuous manner typical of Freecycle offering the pouffe a “lovely new home” and thanking me for my “kind consideration” (it’s apparently quite a tussle between second-hand furniture resellers to secure the best Freecycle items these days, so politeness is all) and, true to her word, she sent round her “husband” (or co-reseller of Freecycle furniture, whatever) to pick it up.
I opened the door to a strapping lad with a fairly broad Glaswegian accent, who said, slightly hesitantly: ”Erm, I’m here to pick up a… erm, footstool?” I looked at him in brief confusion, not having used the word “footstool” once in the advert or my dialogue with “Nerys”, before realising what he meant, giving him the item and sending him on his way. It was only afterwards that I realised he must have been agonising over what exactly to say when I opened the door for his entire journey over here.
To the day I die, I’ll regret not having (loudly) said something along the lines of “Ahh, you mean the Pouffe. YOU’RE HERE TO PICK UP THAT BIG POUFFE YOU E-MAILED ME ABOUT, AREN’T YOU??”