Here’s a story about my friend Emily, who came home from work one day to find a single, raggedy shoe on her doorstep filled with crumpled up cash.
You’d think this would be an amazing surprise, some fairy godmother from Foot Locker, perhaps.
But no. The discovery was immediately followed by a text from her ex-boyfriend:
“The money is in a shoe on your porch and fuck you!”
Reading an angry text that starts with, “THE MONEY IS IN A SHOE ON YOUR PORCH” is Toolbag gold.
But let’s start from the beginning.
Emily and Peter had been dating for almost a year.
Peter (Pan), was a perpetual couch hopper and had moved into Emily’s house with dreams of opening his own record store.
(Ed note: He’d be better off buying a Foot Locker.)
But with the promise of millennials flocking to vintage anything, he made a convincing argument.
There was an old shack nearby for rent and Peter said could sell his current collection of vinyls and all he needed was $3,000 for start-up costs.
Emily had a good job and had the money. She believed in him and against the better judgment of everyone she asked, she decided to give Peter the loan.
But she didn’t just outright give him her cold, hard cash; she did what any responsible professional would do: She wrote out a contract and they both signed it.
There are few things in life that are as black-and-white as a WRITTEN CONTRACT WITH TERMS AND CONDITIONS.
The terms: He’d repay her the $3,000 within two years, plus $1,000 in interest.
Those rates really kill you!
These were the terms that Peter and Emily both signed and to make it official, they even went to a notary (who I’m sure was shaking her head the whole time.)
No matter! Emily felt accomplished and empowered to be able to help her boyfriend as an investor in what could be a successful business.
But soon after she transferred Peter the money, he broke up with her and moved out of her house, claiming he didn’t want to be “a burden.”
I don’t want to be a burden, but I’ll take your $3K and run!!!
Peter moved into the shack that was to be his super successful record business.
Six months later, Emily got a text from Peter saying that things were going GREAT but that he didn’t think it was “fair” to have to pay interest on the loan.
Emily recalls, “I asked if he’s trying to renegotiate and told him ‘tough shit’ and to follow the contract already signed.”
Peter pitched a fit about the contract—you know, THE ONE THAT HE SIGNED—still crying about the $1,000 interest he agreed to.
He insisted that he had the original $3,000 to give back (which was actually quite shocking) but didn’t want to have to pay extra.
“Tough shit,” Emily repeated.
And that’s what brought her to her doorstep that day.
The day Peter the genius thinks it’s appropriate and professional to repay a $3,000 loan plus interest in cash, stuffed in an empty shoe left on a front porch.
(Jesus, how big was this shoe???)
As if the story couldn’t get any more hilarious, Emily noted that the original $3,000 was in crisp $100 bills at the bottom of the shoe.
But, the “interest?”
The $1,000 interest was a deliberately dirty, crumply, mess of $20s and $5 bills.
(Must have been a clown shoe.)
I think it’s very big of her to confirm she even received the money in the shoe.
Especially after, “The money is in a shoe on your porch and fuck you!” text.
Right. F HER.
The one who gave him a loan, only to get dumped the next day.
Definitely a clown shoe.