Our neighbourhood had a massive garage sale recently. I love garage sales — giving them, not necessarily going to them myself. I love them because it gives me a chance to chat with neighbours, meet interesting people with weird hobbies, and generally make a bit of a spectacle of myself.
The kids hate my garage sales…but, to give them full credit, they do always manage to help me out. Last year, since she was living with me, Gill was the one drafted. The year before, Crazy D volunteered…yes, you heard me right…he VOLUNTEERED! We had such fun — until some motorcycle dude, during an animated conversation they were having about bikes, referred to me as his ‘old lady’…in the ‘ball and chain’ sense, not mother and son. I was flattered beyond belief. My son was not amused…serves him right for having prematurely grey hair and not using Grecian Formula occasionally. But I digress.
I firmly believe that the main reason one has kids is so they can help at garage sales. Sure, there’s the ‘joy of forming tiny minds’ etc., but really, who are we kidding? It’s all about the garage sales. And it’s a fair trade. After all, if you didn’t have kids, you probably wouldn’t have so much shit to get rid of!
So this year it was L’il Sis’s turn to take one for the team. Gill, I can hear you laughing from across the pond. Your turn is coming up again next year so you’d better plan on being here.
All three kids think I should have been in retail since I love to chat people up and am not above using the hard sell to move items. Also, being a writer of humour, I use any opportunity to have some fun. I make signs for the sale items. For example, I had one funky looking bird ornament for the garden. When I say ‘funky’, I mean it’s the kind of stupid, cartoon-like thing that only a true bird freak would love. I probably paid twenty bucks for it. I was asking five. A bargain in anybody’s book. So I put up a sign saying, “Come on, you know you want it…’ And sure enough, two middle-aged guys came along, egged each other on to take my dare, and trotted happily down the street with their weird prize…looking for all the world like two fierce hunters who’d spent their day on safari and bagged their elusive prey. It was classic and everyone had fun…including the onlookers who were also egging them on. Gill, I’m sorry I sold the bird. I know you loved it. But you weren’t here to stop me, so you lose!
L’il Sis brought her dog, the infamous beagle (aka The Pig) to draw in the crowds. And draw them in she did. Tied to the front tree, she used her adorable face to bring in a steady stream of buying customers. I should have set up a booth charging twenty-five cents for a beagle kiss! She had a wonderful time with everyone fawning over her. It was only later that L’il Sis confessed, as she was suspiciously stuffing old sheets and towels into MY laundry machine, that The Pig, true to her reputation, had upchucked in my car on the drive over. Guess a kissing booth wouldn’t have been such a good idea. Vomit on the lips probably smells…
The best thing about garage sales is that you can catch up with neighbours. After the long winter’s hibernation, folks are out and about, eager to spill their guts about what’s happening in their lives. And, since you already have chairs out for sale, and probably a scratched-up table on which to put your coffee, comfort is assured. This gab session has the added advantage of providing a cozy atmosphere for customers. They feel they’re joining you in your living room (actually they are and you want to move it at bargain prices so you can buy more crap), they’re relaxed and READY TO SPEND.
While I appreciate Gill’s efforts to help in the past, I have to say that L’il Sis’s efforts were a bit more ‘perky’ in nature. She’s in retail for real and is used to dealing with difficult people. She also is more of a morning person than Gill. Gill, as I recall from last year, tended to hide at the back of the garage with her coffee, muttering under her breath about the ‘cheap bastards’ trying to haggle me down from 50 cents to 25 cents for a book. “Really? You haven’t got 50 cents for A BOOK? Books are great things! If I could LIVE in a library, I would. ” At this point, she’d run out, grab the book in question from the stupefied customer, and scream,”Just for that, you can’t have it! We don’t want anyone here who doesn’t love books!” We lost a few sales….
One of my favorite sales areas this year was my ‘It’s (probably) a guy thing’ spot. I wanted to unload a couple of electric tools — a router and sharpener — divorce booty, I like to call it, from my ex. I had hoped Crazy D would take an interest in carpentry, but no such luck. His former live-in girlfriend once had to take over the picture hanging in their apartment since he couldn’t do it. But give him something, anything, and ask him to make (and record) a weird noise with it, and he’s your man.
I also found a set of small wrenches that I collected and displayed in an old plastic hummus bucket. The men loved the sign…until the end of the day when the wrenches were all that remained of ‘the guy thing’. Men were giving me funny looks. I was hard pressed to explain my original rationale with the manly (and large) electric tools. At this point, it might have helped to alter my sign…something like “Tools don’t have to be big to get the job done’…any double entendre you imagine shows YOUR dirty mind, not mine.
The sale day ended successfully…although Gill was quick to point out, “Ma, why are you so happy to have made $300 for stuff that cost you four times that? That’s a sucker’s game!”
“True, but at least I recouped some of my money. Plus, I don’t have to store the stuff any longer. And I’m sure the people who bought my lovely items will enjoy tham as much as I have. That is a good feeling.”
“Ma, that’s a losing attitude. You don’t have the killer instinct required to do a garage sale properly. I could be much more ruthless and you’d sell more crap!”
“Really? You think so? I bet you can’t.”
“Can too.”
My final parry drove the deal home. “You’re on. Next year, you can run it.”
“Done!” Gill said. “Oops, I’ve just been conned, haven’t I, Ma?”
“Yup…I shoulda been in retail, as you’ve always said…”
