At garage sale, no price is too low for self-esteem
By BRUCE MICHAUD
Published April 25, 2004
4 a.m. Am I dreaming? Or did I volunteer to put up signs for our community garage sale?
6 a.m. Time to sell things I thought I wanted at one time. People walk the darkened street like Dawn of the Dead. The neighbor has already sold stuff to some of these zombies.
I can hear my bed calling me.
7 a.m. If I move this record player over here it may sell better. Hmmm - I don't want to panic just yet and lower prices, but my stuff is not moving well compared to the sale next door. Maybe I should brush my teeth and hair.
8 a.m. "Would you take 25 cents for that chair?"
After all the times I held you up, you're gonna give me away? I remember the day you bought me and you said I was all you ever wanted. Nobody ever sits on that museum chair in the dining room; are you giving him away?
"I'm sorry, I can't take 25 cents. A dollar will do it."
A dollar? I hope you get hemorrhoids again, you low-life.
9 a.m. Only rubber-necking drive-by shoppers. I'll move the stuffed cat closer to the road and slash prices across the board. I really want that Bucs jacket from Tom across the street. I'll wait till noon to get it cheap.
"I gave you that fishing pole for your birthday. You're not selling it for a dollar." My wife.
"You can bring that right back into the house!"
The neighbors snicker as I tell her how sorry I am.
10 a.m. I bring out things I don't want to sell, but I know I will sell, just to prove to my neighbors that I can sell. We never use that sewing machine.
Hey, no fair. Somebody parked in front of my house to buy that Elvis oil painting from Charlie!
11 a.m. I wonder if the trash man will take this stuff tomorrow. Wendi sold her gardening shoes. Who would want those?
"Hello sir. Can I help you find something you didn't know you wanted until you got up this morning at 5 a.m. to drive across town to our community garage sale?"
The customer has a poker face.
"I see you're selling that weight lifting set. Did you really buy it from the infomercial? I know they were selling them for payments of $200 for 18 months, but I don't think you're gonna get three grand for it today, son."
I don't care. The pull-up bar is perfect for hanging my shirts and I sit on the bench to tie my shoes.
Noon. "How much do you want for that jacket, Tom?"
Tom never looks up at me as he counts his wad of money.
"That jacket was just bait to get people into my driveway to sell them my other stuff. What did you use as bait, Bruce?"
Bait?
"Well, Tom. I had the George Foreman grill out front with my 8-Track player with auto reverse."
I go back to the driveway to see my final customer, a 12-year-old kid.
"You guys used to listen to music on these 8-Tracks, huh? It has auto reverse? So your generation is confused why we wear our jeans hanging below our waist while you listened to taped music in reverse?"
I explain to him that we didn't have the technology back then for CDs since everything was in black-and-white. Thank God the Wizard of Oz movie turned everything into color.
I also tell him as dumb as we were, we had enough sense to wear belts to keep our pants from falling down.
- Freelance columnist Bruce Michaud lives in Odessa.
