Mare's Crazy Adventures and other silly things

Dunce

Being in a new country is hard enough, speaking in a different language is even harder but to be scammed, in a different language, in a new country, may probably be the hardest experience of all.

With the parents gone and the children at school, I alone was sole inhabitant of 6 rue Caulaincourt, apt # 5. I was not supposed to be there, I was supposed to be out exploring the wonderful quartier of Montmartre but oh no, I just had to waste my time choosing what to wear. Therefore, I was there to open the door when the bell rang.
A fat jolly man stood outside and blasted off in French. I kept thinking “what the hell?” and should have slammed the door. Should have, but I chose not to because I thought, “hey, here’s a perfect opportunity to practice my French!” So, I listened and talked to him. From what I had gathered he was there to clean the chimney. He went off about things exploding and fires that I thought he must be the maintenance man and the parents had forgotten to tell me about it (it happens in Dubai all the time). I let him in and he cleaned it and then proceeded to ask me for 70 euros. 70 euros! I was shocked. I thought he had said 10 euros whereupon I would have given him 10 of mine and asked to be reimbursed. A thought had crossed my mind that perhaps this man was not from the building so I thought if I lost 10 euros it would not be too bad and just a mistake on my part. But 70! I did not have that much on me and I was starting to doubt this man who wanted so much money for just thrusting his sweeper into the hole. So I got rid of him, told him to come back tomorrow and talk to the parents; all in perfect French might I add.

However, when I picked the children up from school I mentioned the incident to Salome, the eight year old who thought the man was nice enough to clean the chimney and asked why I hadn’t paid the 70 he asked . 8 year olds, *sigh*. Unfortunately, she told her mother about it before I could and it turns out that the man was a scam; a possible ‘cambrioler’. His phone number did not work, he was not listed. Everything he had told me was a lie (which included that he got the code to the building from the restaurant downstairs; one of the reasons why I had thought he was legit). He was not supposed to be there. I was not supposed to open the door. There was not supposed to be any thrusting of any sort by anyone in any part, of the house. Right then I wanted the ground to open up and eat me alive. I wanted to jump out the window because I cannot believe how stupid I can be. Every parent, no matter in what part of the world, always tells his/her children to not open the door for strangers and I broke that rule. To some, I might be the rebellious sort, but this does not qualify. This is just plain stupid.

Thankfully, the parents did not yell at me too much. They just warned me and became a lot stricter with me. They cannot be blamed for that. I really ‘trompe’d big time. At least I did something right and that was not to let the man out of my sight. Maybe I am not that dumb after all, but I do believe my hair is starting to become blonde.