About four months ago, I decided it was time to lighten up the foliage around the house that I'd been so lovingly tending for the last year. A search of Craig's list turned up just one landscape lighting dude, so I gave him a call. "Ass Face" (my pet name for the guy) came out promptly and gave me a smokin' low estimate. A few days later, he returned with  about 20 cool looking fixtures and schlamped them in. A.F. assured me that his installation was guaranteed by the company as well as free bulb replacement for the first year.  Life was good.

Last weekend, I noticed three lights under the camphor tree were out . I rang up A.F. only to get a confused sounding young woman who explained that  her husband  is no longer with the company and they've moved out of state- "but he'll call you back with the number to call for service."  A.F. never called, but at least I now know why.

After calling the company  in Lakeland A.F. supposedly represented, I heard a tale of treachery and betrayal worthy of a Grisham novel.  A.F.'s former partner said I was one of many customers calling for follow-up service who he had no record of. That's because A.F. was freelancing, baby! Drumming up bidness on Craig's list, collecting the jack and failing to cut his partner in.   "Lancelot" (the noble, but duped small businessman in Lakeland) sounded sincerely hurt. He'd known Ass Face for 10 years. Their wives were close friends.

The bad news is that I'll be paying for the eight dollar replacement bulbs. The good news is that A.F. charged me about half of what Lancelot's company would have for the same job.  Moral of the story?  You tell me.