VALERIE SCHULTZ: Tacking on an annoyance tax at the garage sale
| Wednesday, Oct 21 2009 04:05 PM
Last Updated Wednesday, Oct 21 2009 04:05 PM
A garage sale is a commitment to decluttering your life. It's also a way to get adult children to go through the boxes they've been storing in your garage indefinitely. And you make some cash, even though you are selling things for a fraction of what you paid for them back when you had to have them. As summer wound down, my husband and I placed a garage sale ad in the paper.
Our garage sale was really a driveway sale. We closed the garage door so that people did not wander in and make offers on stuff. The stuff in the garage may look no different from the stuff in the driveway that we don't want, but for some reason, we believe we want the stuff in the garage. At least until the next garage sale.
Garage-sale aficionados make offers on some weird things, and pass over other things that the owner considers real finds. One person's treasure is another's junk, and vice versa. Some people will only buy an item if they've successfully made several counteroffers to the stated price, as though the bargaining is more fun than the acquiring. At one point, my husband gave in and said that something was free. Then the woman didn't want it.
Some garage-salers drive very luxurious cars. One elaborate SUV roared up in front of the house. A well-dressed, well-coiffed, well-manicured woman emerged. She offered me a dime for the purse I said was a quarter (and which I paid 20 bucks for two years ago). I thought: Seriously? I'm sitting out here in my driveway since 7 a.m., offering my treasures to the world at bargain-basement prices, and you want to take me for 15 cents? And then she wanted to pay the dime with a 20 dollar bill. It seemed the nicer the car was, the stingier the driver, reminding me of my time as a bank teller in the 1980s: generally speaking, the more money in a customer's account, the meaner he or she was to the hired help.
Some folks just wanted to talk. And talk. And talk. They wanted some companionship along with their purchases. And that was OK, really: what else did I have to do? I had taken a furlough Friday off from work, and had all morning to hang out in my driveway, to squint in the sun and put people's folded-up dollar bills in an old cocoa tin and shoot the breeze. Earlier on, I'd been reading a novel while people were browsing, but I am the kind of oblivious reader that people had to demand my attention several times before I looked up and realized that they'd been talking to me.
If you are a part of a retired couple, making the early morning circuit of all the garage sales in the neighborhood apparently takes the place of a real date. "We don't need anything else crowding our house," said one woman. And then: "Bill, would you look at this magazine rack? Bill, do you have three dollars?" Bill did.
One fellow, as he ferreted through things, was yacking about how Fox News brilliantly exposed the first lady as the pompous twit that he believed she was. I guess he hadn't noticed the Obama/Biden bumper sticker on my car. Or maybe he had. So: no bargains for him. Full price on the video of "The Fox and the Hound." Full price on the shirt with the monkey on it. Plus an added annoyance tax.
The early hour might have brought out my unpleasant, sarcastic side. A guy in a plaid flannel shirt asked, "Do you have any hunting or fishing gear?"
Yes, lots, I wanted to say, but I'm hiding it from you. I just wanted to make you ask, and then I'll bring it out. Why would I not put something out in plain view if I wanted to sell it?
"Uh, no," I said.
I was amazed by how many people still watch movies on videotape. I've assumed that the whole world has adopted the DVD format, with Blue Ray now beckoning for our business. But some movie lovers have dug in their heels and said enough. On the arc of technological progress, they have stopped at VHS and said: no more -- here is where I'm staying. My family hasn't looked at a videotape in five years, but as soon as I sold or donated ours, an indignant outcry arose from the younger generation. I had given away some beloved possessions. They are still upset with me.
All told, for several hours of organizing, two mornings in the driveway, and a few more hours of hauling away the leftovers, we netted $250 and some space in the garage. My dream is to fit my car in there, since that's what garages are designed for. A couple more sales, and keeping my husband away from other people's garage sales, and it just may happen.
