Ahh, the pleasures of being a WIS.
True story: Mrs. C, who was known to be a watch lover for some years (until I bought her a Fitbit for Christmas last year, and now it's the only watch she wears) was asked at work by a guy she works with, who had inherited some old watches from his father, if she could bring them home for me to look at. Included was a Cartier that he was pretty sure was fake, but wanted my humble impressions. Mrs. C asked me if that was OK, and I said sure, and a couple of days later she comes home with a Zip-lok bag with a half a dozen watches.
Most of the stuff was honest but cheap fashion stuff, all quartz, none of them really nice (or really bad, like Invicter.) The Cartier looked real enough, but I know fuck all about Cartier, so after a strenuous ten minutes online I realized it was a fake. I emailed what was what about the watches to my wife's company account so she could relay it to the poor guy who now owned about $30 worth of watches.
A couple of days later Mrs. C comes home with two more watches, which she said the "poor" guy asked if I could change the batteries, as they were both dead. Now, I've changed plenty of batteries in the past, mainly for Mrs. C, who owns about seven million quartz watches. I don't really enjoy replacing batteries for schmucks I don't know, but whatever. So she hands me the watches--one was a fake Rolex Datejust two tone, the other a fake Rolex Submariner. These were the real shit fakes, like the kind you can get on the street in New York for twenty bucks. I had to go into the whole fake thing with Mrs. C, explaining that real WISs look at fake buyers as the NAMBLA of the hobby, and asked her to let the stupid fuck at work know I couldn't change the batteries, telling him that I didn't have the right caseback opener.
Cream rises to the top while jackoffs only leave puddles of rancid jizz.
--Temerity, regarding Bazinga!.