I got held up at work, talking to one of my favorite co-workers from another building.. and well I really couldn't brake myself away.
My sale started at 8.
At 7:32 after working tirelessly in the HOT HOT HOT sun to drag boxes and boxes of stuff out of my apartment I saw my first customers coming up the walk.
Whoa dudes, I am not starting till 8. 8 AM. That's 28 minutes from now. Kick rocks. I was already hot, mad and really not looking foward to dealing with Billy Bob, Trampy Sue and the gang.
But I didn't say that.. of course I let this nice man and his wife and his daughters and her 15 kids paw through the boxes of my stuff.
He was driving one of those old rickety trucks that looked like Buddy Ellison's from the Beverly Hillbillies... It looked like it rolled off the Ford assembly line somewhere in the late 1930's.
It looked as though they had hit up about a hundred sales with all the stuff they had packed into the back of that truck. How was that.. considering garage sales in the city start at 7. Hmm.. maybe they just keep that stuff in there truck to make the other people jealous? Maybe they live in the truck? Who knows. I didn't really care.
They pawed through my things, knocking things over, getting completely in my way. They turned to me and promptly told me all of my stuff was crap.
I told them thank you, but it wasn't displayed yet and maybe they should just go.
"Well if you would be on time and get your s**t out.. maybe we would have bought something."
Uhh yea. You can go now TrampySue. I am going to start on time, so maybe if you would have went to school past the second grade and learned to tell time and read you woulda known that. See ya later.
Once they had left, I had a little time to get things out and situated. I got the tables up and things started to shape up pretty nicely.
My first real customer of the morning was a lady who is well known around the Hood'. By well known, I think you probably get the drift there. So we will leave it at that.
She and 2 of her friends sat outside in there truck after the Beverly Hillbillies left and waited for me to finish setting up. Which I thought was pretty decent of them. I hate being rushed.
At exactly 8:01 am, Susie (we will call her) jumps out of the truck. I realize immediately that she is about 22 sheets to the wind. Drunk as all get out at 8 in the morning. I wish I had that kind of life.
When Susie jumps out of the tall truck, she falls, straight on her butt, HARD. But she was too drunk to realize that she would probably have a giant bruise on her hiney in the morning, or the night, or whenever Susie technically started her day.
She sauntered over and asks me if I am Hub's Wife. I tell her yes, I am. My husband would have interacted with Susie at his job, so I wasn't surprised as much that she knew him, but that she knew me.
I didn't nor do I really want Susie knowing who I am and now she knew where I lived.
Susie then proceeds to go on and on about how she loves my husband, how he is the greatest, how one time in 1974 she married a man who looked like my husband... and then she got side tracked with the fact there was a yard sale.
She walked over to a place were I had set up boxes of stuff for .25, .50 and 1.00 stuff. I just threw it in a box and told people to pick and choose.
Well it was apparently Christmas for Susie. "Hot Damn," she said, "It's my lucky day!" She took a whole bunch of picture frames out of the .50 box, looking as though she has just won the lotto.
For at least 20 minutes she was bent over, booty directly in my face, looking at picture frames.
When she finally came up for air, with a full load of frames in her hand, she stumbled backward, again, falling flat on her behind.
Susie's sister jumped out of truck and told her to get her big... something racial that I don't want to say... UP!
At this point Susie is laughing hysterically. Cackling. I wasn't completely sure why, but apparently my little sale was a happin' good time!
Susie's sister got her up and helped her pay for her items. Susie had forgotten that the best route back to the truck was straight ahead and she bolted towards our apartment complex to say "hhhhhhhhhheeeeey!" to NeighborBoy.
At least now I knew how she knew who we were.
After finally getting her corralled, Susie and her sister were heading back up the walk to the truck. Another one of NeighborBoy's friends came out and Susie caught a wiff of the fresh meat coming outside. She whipped her head around to say something that a 60 year old woman shouldn't be saying to a 20 year old guy.
She forgets that she has a handful of picture frames and drops them all.
They all break into a million pieces.
Susie laughs and laughs.. all the way to the truck.
At least she had already paid me for them.
I had a steady stream of people from then on.. one of my last customers was a very nice looking hispanic man in a very nice looking truck, who creeped slowly down my street at least 5 times. Each time he came down the road, he would slow down to a crawl to scope out what I had for sale.
Finally, on time number 6, he stopped. Thank god! A normal customer!
"Do you have a fan?" he asked in a very thick accent.
"Um no, do you see any fans?" I say, trying not to be rude, but seriously it wasn't a big sale, you could have seen a fan from the 5 times you past.
"Well I need a fan! I need a fan right now!" He's starting to get agitated.
I'm starting to wonder if he's normal.
"Well look I have a house fan inside. I can go get it if you want?"
"Yes! GO GET IT NOW!" he yells..
Um, ok, if I give you the fan will you just go??
So I go inside and get our house fan. It's old, dirty and has more dust on it than a human should be allowed to breath in. I go outside, show it too him and he is elated. Again, like it was Christmas or something.
He's still looking around at the items. He sees a few things that spark an interest but for the most part you can tell he's done. I had two permament markers sitting next to the cash box and a big role of tape. Obviously a part of the garage sale supplies. Not for sale.
"How much you want for the green marker?"
"Huh, this marker? Dude, it's not for sale. I'm using it for the garage sale. I am moving in a month. I need the marker," I say, not really sure where this is going.
"I give you .25 cents for it."
"NO. It's not for sale."
He starts to get angry, like red blood vessels popping out of his head angry.
"I WANT THE MARKER! NOW! I WILL GIVE YOU FEEFTY CENTS FOR IT!"
Whoa.. um if your gonna get all bent out of shape over a Sharpie. Take it. It's old anyway and you probably won't get another few days out of it.
Whatever makes ya happy partner.
So I give him the marker and he goes back to happy.
Easy as that. Weird huh?
For the most part, the yard sale was a success. We didn't have alot of stuff to sell as we had been really reducing over the past 2 years. Mostly it was nick nacks and a mish mosh of silly stuff.
Very small and very quickly thrown together.
But I met alot of really nice people from the neighborhood. Hard working, sweet and kind folks who just were out enjoying the morning before god turned up the heat dial.
And I made 55.00.
So all and all. Successful.
Next time though, I'm hiding the liquor and the Sharpie pins. :)