(I offer to clean some football shirts for my seven-year-old son’s team in our village. One of the mothers says they will send someone to pick them up next Sunday at noon. About that time, the doorbell rings and my son and I go to answer the door. The woman standing there is too young to be a mother. I assume she is maybe an older sister. She is carrying a bag containing some bulky items.)
Me: *to son* “What do you say?”
My Son: *handing the clothes over in a shopping bag* “Here you go.”
(The young woman looks surprised for a moment, before she smiles, takes the bag, thanks my son, and walks away. Twenty minutes later, one of the mothers comes to the door.)
Mother: “Hi, I’m here to pick up the clothes.”
Me: *confused* “But you just sent someone.”
Mother: *just as puzzled* “No, I didn’t.”
(I go into panic mode, and start feeling a little embarrassed. I immediately tell her everything that happened. The neighbour, hearing us talking loudly, interrupts and says that a young woman just gave her some goods she had ordered that matched the description. Another neighbour says that the woman in question was selling goods to various houses in our street.)
Mother: *loudly* “YOU GAVE OUR CLOTHES AWAY TO A SALESWOMAN?!”
(A third neighbour, as told to us the following day, had also ordered some goods. The woman giving them to her had asked if she also wanted to buy some clothes for “a cheaper price.” The neighbour brought the clothes for £20.)