Where bobble heads reign (released 7/19/13)
By Kris Kolk
My family hosted a yard sale last week. We outwitted spiders
and bugs to unearth treasures from the basement. For a few days the house was a
frenzied prep zone.
“Sell it all,” was our mantra. My son’s wardrobe got sucked
into the fervor. We priced most of his fresh laundry before realizing our
mistake.
“If it’s nice, it gets a price,” his siblings and I jingled
in unison as he sheltered t-shirts, boxers, and jeans from his
yard-sale-possessed family.
While getting change, I told the tellers about our upcoming
sale. One of them gave me a sympathetic half-smile. I initially interpreted it
as “better you than me,” but shrugged it off. Our till was counted and put into
a powder blue plastic toy tackle box, our cash register.
Exhaustion led to giddiness. We were too excited to go to
bed at a decent hour on Sale Eve. Clothes were hung. Goods were priced. A stash
of empty grocery bags was ready for customers’ loot. We wondered if we forgot
any details.
The advertisement listed our hours as seven o’clock until
noon. We expected early bird shoppers and agreed on a store policy: sell stuff
no matter what the time.
We merchandised in pre-dawn dew. Tables almost buckled under
the weight of our inventory. We hung clothes on a rope. A stepladder offered
belts, shoes, and purses at a variety of heights.
“No early birds yet,” I said, grateful to prepare without
distractions. By opening time, a parade of cars started on our street.
“Look, here comes another one,” I’d say. “No, don’t look.”
We didn’t want to appear anxious.
Almost every potential customer slowed their car to window
shop from the comfort of a front seat. More often than not, the car accelerated
and left. We were tired and sweaty and discouraged, too.
I began hoping for just one sale. The kids worked so hard.
Our house had been in sale mode for three days and was still a huge mess. Was
it all worth it? I was beginning to wonder.
Then a family arrived. Kids poured from the van like clowns
from a miniature car. I lost track of how many there were; but one thing was
certain: they wanted toys. My kids’ faces glowed as their favorite things were
once again appreciated.
These young customers were savvy negotiators. It became
apparent that none of them intended on paying full price. Their parents stood
behind them, beaming as their offspring were successful in getting discounts
just for being so darned cute. I was grateful one car finally stopped, and it
felt good to put some quarters in the tackle box.
There was a trickle of customers after that. One man paid us
in a fifty-cent piece. I don’t think my kids were impressed but I was excited.
Shoppers wanted jewelry, bobble heads and stadium cups, none of which our
establishment offered.
We packed leftovers in our pick-up for delivery to the
donation drop. Then the most surprising thing happened: swarms of customers
arrived. Just as early birds want first dibs at the good stuff, people who
arrive after the sale want deals.
I regret allowing the latecomers to peruse what we had
already packed. There was a pillaging spirit about them as they ravaged boxes
in the hull of our truck while searching for booty. Though they didn’t buy
anything, I was relieved when the ransacking concluded.
Our profit was a mere $15. It sounds like it wasn’t worth
it; but we did get some of the basement clean, made a substantial donation, and
had fun. As we were enjoying our reward of take-out pizzas, my son entered the
room. For one moment, I thought I heard a DJ scratching a turntable.
“Are you wearing shorts and leg warmers?” I asked him.
“I hate yard sales,” he said.
Kris Kolk has been a writer and
neighborliness promoter for more than a decade. You can also visit her at www.neighborsabouttown.blogspot.com. Email
her at kris@lslneighbors.com.
