This past Memorial Day weekend, we had our garage sale. It was a mammoth 3-day event reminscent of a tent sale, but did fairly well. We got rid of a gool deal of useless crap and put it in the hands of others for whom it will not (yet) be considered useless crap. However, one meets some strange characters at these sales. There are a few major classes we've found, especially living in the area we're in.
First, there are the pros. They sweep in based off of the ad in the paper and come to ask for specific things. Tools? Watches? Antiques? Photo equipment? Extremely valuable objects you want to sell to someone for 1/100th their price? I guess they get enough hits to make the thousands of "um...no?" responses they get worthwhile.
Second, there are the families out for a drive. Volvos. Saabs. In one case a Hummer H2. On a drive, usually from place A to place B just happening across a sale. They don't seek it out, but will stop to buy a wetsuit. Or a mattress and boxspring. Or an armoire. Just 'cause.
Third, there are the serious "bargain hunters." These are the people that will tell you that a Quarter is just "crazy!" and much too much to ask for a slightly-used Boeing 747 Jumbo Jet, and would I take a Dime. They will pick over 5000 pieces of clothing and pull out 6 random items 15 minutes after the sale has begun on day one and ask if they could have it for half price. They are the people I have the least patience for, and the ones that went away mostly frustrated. Buh-bye.
Finally, we have the serious oddballs. We got two or three of those. People you can spot from across the county as "um...I think they're coming this way. Better hide." Here was one story:
There was this one woman yesterday, built like a fireplug, who came bounding up looking like something out of "Awakenings", asking what we had that's Disney, because "I collect Disney". The fact that every square inch of her body was festooned with disney memorabilia probably would have hinted to us that fact had she not mentioned it, but of course, she did. Several times. And yet, when we offered things like Finding Nemo happy meal stuff, she said, "no, only classic disney," which she also said to Tigger slippers and some other apparently-not-classic-enough-disney. Eventually, armed with 3 random stuffed animals, only one of which was disney as far as I could tell, Tinkerbell wandered off to spread Disney goodness and light for anyone else who happened to have cheap crap that resembled a mouse or a duck on their lawns.
Oh, yes, and I'm sore as hell all over from the seemingly endless stairs between the attic and the basement. But at least we delivered the bomb.
