We are moving again – and we are having another garage sale. This time we will embrace the garage sale concept and do it differently.
The last garage sale that I convinced Baddy we needed to have to rid ourselves of useless paraphernalia before we moved into our new home was a whole hell of a lot of work without much benefit but some of our favorite days have been when the boys and I have ridden our bikes around town searching for treasures.
Your Junk Is Somebody Else’s Treasure
Baddy came over to help me the day before the sale and found me in a heap on the floor. “HELP,” I cried in complete despair. The past week I had relentlessly immersed myself in sorting out all of our clothes and useless junk and the condo still looked like a bomb had gone off. Once again, he shook his head at me for naively leaping into an impossible task and became my superhero moving all the heavy items outside and putting them on display.
By the time the day of the sale came I was worn out and over it. When my friend stopped by to check on me she couldn’t help but laugh at my sorry-ass state and informed me that people were aimlessly walking around the parking lot unable to find where the sale was. It was so typical of me to be so organized and than fizzle out on such an important detail. Evidently my balloons, which did not have a price tag on them, were taken by some unconscious mom. My friend took charge and went out into the parking lot to direct the lost and confused shoppers my way.
Axel sat bundled by my side selling juice and donuts to the cult of bargain hunters who descended upon us an hour before we opened. They exchanged their hellos and gave each other discerning looks as they meticulously sifted through every item. They chose the strangest things and tried to barter me down in price. At first I played hard ball. The prices were already low and I was not going to play their game. They were experts and left only to come back again eight hours later when I was completely exhausted and ready to give it all a way.
The second tier of shoppers were the lonely people looking for someone who had the time to listen. One particular woman was haunted by a bread machine she had once found at a sale but neglected to buy. She could not live in peace until she found another similar bargain. I told her I had no such item and sent her signals that her time was up. I called myself on my cell phone and had a long fake conversation. When that didn’t work I started to run up and down the stairs pretending to be extremely busy. Unfazed, she kept on chatting even when I would disappear mid-sentence. Finally I redirected her to a superior sale that was going on down the street where she might find her long lost bread machine.
My last customer was a very large, unkempt woman who sifted through the clothes with a sour expression while making a huge mess. She plopped all of my skinny jeans on the table and bargained me down to $1 for the lot. I forced the image out of my head of her actually trying on the jeans and wearing them in public.
Two hundred dollars later I sat emotionally distraught amongst my still endless pile. The sale was a bust. My only saving grace was that I had a preview sale of my best clothes prior to my garage sale and made $1,500 off of all my friends. I saw it as the perfect fit, I was helping out my less fashion conscious friends who needed to expand their wardrobes at a cheap price, and they were helping me out by giving me their money. Some of them did not view my efforts in the same light and refused to pay me anything muttering that a friend doesn’t make another friend pay for their old clothes. Others were more gracious, but still make fun of me to this day for their $15 gap sweater that they purchased from their good friend Jillian that they have never worn.
Baddy and the boys were happy to hear that I was done forever with having sales (until now). They spent the next day loading up his truck and dispersing all the remaining goods to the local thrift shops. I informed them that it would be a long time before I would be ready to get on our bikes and visit another person’s discards. They told me to look at the bright side, what we had gained from the garage sale was the necessary bargaining tools we needed to find treasures at even better prices. Once my fragile state improved they were ready to practice their new skills on the other unsuspecting families having sales.