About a year ago I got done. I got done good. It was a quiet afternoon at work and I was enjoying a cigarette on Elizabeth Street in the Sydney CBD.

I was skulking around the entrance of the old Globe nightclub when I noticed a man had pulled up to the curb on the street in front of me in a small four wheel drive. He was fumbling with a large sheet of paper which looked like a map. He looked up and beckoned me over with a timid hand gesture. As I walked toward the car he winded down the passenger side window and I asked if he was lost. He quickly tossed the map into the back seat of the car and asked in earnest, "Are you Italian?"

I am most definitely not Italian as any of my friends will confirm and I laughed at the suggestion. He did not change his tone but replied, "You look Italian to me. Northern Italian, maybe?" I laughed again, but was somewhat flattered.

He then began to tell me how he was a sales executive for a distributor of Italian clothing and was in town for Fashion Week. Unfortunately he was leaving Sydney the next day, but had a number of quality display garments with him that he would prefer not to take back with him because he did not want to pay the excess baggage charges. I had heard about such scam artists before, and sensing my apprehension he produced a set of airline tickets and an Italian passport to prove his story was genuine. The verification of his credentials didn't do much to assuage my disbelief, but being a slow afternoon I thought that this character could provide a little entertainment.

He mentioned that he had some designer leather jackets in his possession. He reached into the back seat and retrieved a jacket which he unwrapped and passed on for my inspection. I own a leather jacket and can tell the difference between a real and a fake, and this jacket that he showed me was definitely the real McCoy. The black leather was soft with the comforting smell of a new luxury car, and the stitching was even and strong. I knew this man was probably not a clothing salesman, but was beginning to think that the clothes he was peddling must be genuine and were probably stolen.

"How much would you expect to pay for this fine garment?" he asked.

"Maybe four'hundred Dollars" I replied, knowing that this was the balance of my savings account at the time.

"Four'hundred!" he scoffed, "This jacket, she is beautiful Italian leather, not retailing in Australia. She is latest design from Milan and retails for twelve'hundred US."

He shook his head and told me I was wasting his time, thanked me, and started looking for an opening in the heavy traffic. I backed away from the car and watched the man as he prepared to move off. After about ten seconds he gave up any attempt to move and beckoned me over to the car again. "Young man, I have been thinking. You look like nice guy. I do a deal. I can sell this jacket to you only. Six'hundred. Cash."

"I'm sorry, but I only have four'hundred to spare. I can't pay any more than that."

He considered my offer briefly, but rejected it and asked for five'hundred. Again we said our goodbyes and I edged away from the car, but seconds later he called me over again. He started showing me different styles that he had available, brown suede, three'quarter length. Some had zippers and others had buttons. As I inspected each jacket I was convinced that each one was genuine and of high quality. I was not thinking too much about where these jackets had come from knowing that receiving stolen goods wouldn't look too good on my resume. However, I was interested in walking away from the deal with something that could be sold for a tidy profit.

He started offering package deals on two, three and four jackets at different prices. I offered four'hundred. He thanked me. He told me again that I was wasting his time. He said goodbye. He said that I looked familiar. He asked if I was Italian. He said goodbye. He beckoned me over. He shook his head. He looked at his watch. I backed away. He called me over. We acted out this little routine a half dozen times before we finally struck a deal. For my four'hundred dollars I would receive four jackets of different styles. He was shaking his head and muttering in Italian under his breath, probably something about how his boss in Milan would not be happy, as if I was still believing his original story. As far as I was concerned, here was a desperate man with a whole lot of stolen goods to get rid of, and I was a sure'fire buyer for up to four'hundred dollars. I was impressed with my negotiation skills. He had moved from his original offer of six'hundred dollars for one jacket, to four for four'hundred.

I am not Italian and don't carry four'hundred dollars in my wallet, so I ran over the street to a nearby ATM to get the cash. I gave him the money and he handed me a bag with the jackets. I walked back to the office with a smile thinking about how to on'sell the jackets for a nice little sum. Do I sell three and keep one? Online auction or local paper classifieds? Either way I was going to make a tidy package.

When I got back to my desk I opened the bag and pulled out a jacket. The first thing I noticed was the stitching on the cuff was not as even and tight as I had remembered inspecting in the car. Come to think of it, the grained texture or the soft leather seemed less fine. I was starting to panic. Wasn't the lining a little less shiny? I couldn't recall. I raised the jacket to my nose and closed my eyes. I was feeling nauseous, probably from the polymer fumes. Damn!

I thought back to the moment I left the man in the car to get the money. Did he reach into the back of the car as I walked away? Maybe. Was he smiling as I turned my back? He was certainly looking smug when I placed those crisp notes in his hand.

I replayed the scene in my head over and over again and concluded that my Italian friend had switched the jackets when I had left his sight. The ones he showed me were genuine and he had exposed a weakness by making me feel like I had beaten him in the negotiation stakes. I had dropped my guard and paid the price.

The exact value of my error didn't take long to discover. On my way home that evening I happened to pass by a $2 shop on Park Street. Hanging in the doorway were a number of familiar looking faux'leather jackets with a sign in large red block letters, "JACKETS $35". Two'hundred and sixty dollars down. A small price to pay for that Italian look don't you think?