Story about 1688time moderator contacted me to send him $4000 worth of watches to be listed as a trusted dealer
The ping on my phone was sharp, a tiny intrusion into the quiet concentration I’d cultivated while regulating a vintage Omega movement. It was a DM, from a name I recognized with a jolt: the r/1688time moderator. My breath hitched. r/1688time. The sprawling online marketplace, a chaotic bazaar of horological dreams and, let’s be honest, a fair share of nightmares. I sourced parts there sometimes, a risky gamble every time, but occasionally, you unearthed a treasure.
This message, though, was different. It wasn’t a question about a specific part. It was an offer.
“Your work has come to our attention,” the message began, the tone surprisingly formal. “We are impressed with the quality of your modifications and believe your pieces would be a valuable addition to our platform. We would like to offer you the opportunity to become a trusted dealer.”
My heart did a little flip. Trusted dealer. It was the holy grail for a modder like me. Visibility, credibility, a direct line to a massive, if somewhat unpredictable, customer base. But the message didn’t stop there.
“To finalize the process,” it continued, “we require a selection of your most representative pieces for evaluation and listing. We estimate the combined value of these pieces should be approximately $4000.”
Four thousand dollars. The flip in my heart became a nervous flutter. That was a substantial investment, especially for someone like me, a small-time modder working out of a cramped spare room, not a sprawling workshop. I usually worked on commission, building pieces for specific clients. I didn’t have a spare $4,000 worth of watches lying around.
I stared at the message, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. It all felt… too easy. Too good to be true. I’d heard whispers in the community, stories of “trusted dealers” who vanished after receiving their “evaluation” pieces, leaving modders like me high and dry.
I spent the next few days wrestling with the offer. The potential rewards were immense, but the risks… the risks were terrifying. I imagined my best pieces, the ones I’d poured my heart and soul into, disappearing into the void, never to be seen again.
Finally, I made my decision. I drafted a reply, careful to keep my tone polite but firm.
“Thank you for the offer,” I wrote. “I appreciate you recognizing my work. However, I’m not comfortable sending such a large quantity of watches without a more concrete agreement in place. Perhaps we could discuss a different arrangement, one that doesn’t require such a significant upfront investment?”
I hit send and waited, my stomach churning. The reply came quickly, and it was exactly what I’d feared.
“Our process is standard,” it read. “If you’re not willing to comply, we’ll move on to other candidates.”
Just like that, the “opportunity” was gone. No negotiation, no discussion. It was a stark, clear message. This wasn’t a genuine offer; it was a shakedown.
I sighed, a wave of relief washing over me. I’d dodged a bullet. Four thousand dollars. They were playing with people’s dreams, preying on their ambition. I thought of the watches I’d almost sent, each one a testament to hours of meticulous work, each one a piece of me. They were more than just objects; they were expressions of my passion. And I wasn’t about to gamble them on a suspicious offer from a shadowy figure on the internet.
The experience left me wary, but also more determined than ever. I continued to build my reputation, one watch at a time, through word of mouth, through online communities, through the shared appreciation of horological art. I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes, the best deals are the ones you don’t make. And sometimes, the most valuable currency isn’t money, but your gut feeling.
