There are a lot of things I try to avoid with my scant weekend free time.
Clearly among the top five would be 1) confrontation and 2) shopping.
The first because I get enough of it with my day job, and the latter because, well because I’m a human male.
So when the missus informed that she 1) would be participating in our neighborhood block sale Saturday and 2) had to miss the first part due to a hair appointment, I realized that not only would I be dealing with two of my least favorite weekend activities, but that they would literally be coming to my front door.
In fairness, the kids did a lot of the set-up work after being informed that they would be able to keep the money from what they sold.
The fact that some of the items were mine and that nearly all of the money to buy the toys and games and dolls came from parents didn’t register in their cash register.
“Hey, they’ll learn the value of money and business and hard work.”
Yea, and they’ll also learn what it’s like dealing with block sale professionals.
These assassins get to 8 o’clock events by at least 7:30.
They’ve already scoped out which yards are participating and which have the greatest likelihood of having the materials they seek.
As the garage doors go up they attach to a target like a heat seeking missile and fly relentlessly to the prize.
Then the haggling starts.
“You have these for two bucks apiece, huh?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I want four of them.”
“That’s eight bucks.”
“I don’t want eight of them. I want four of them, so if you take your eight and divide by my four than that leaves two, right? So here you are, two bucks for these four.”
“Um, okay...what?”
These people are not happy unless they walk away with their definition of a bargain.
A twenty dollar item can be sitting there with a one dollar price tag but someone will stand there for half an hour until you agree to 75 cents.
“Whew, wore him down on that one. Now on to the furniture house. Away!”
And they do this every weekend?
One person talked my seven-year-old into handing over an Elvis wig (don’t ask) for nothing claiming to have no money.
My daughter’s heart is in the right place, but you came to a block sale with no money?
And you outmaneuvered someone still working on how many dimes there are in a dollar?
Nice work, Trump.
On Saturday my wife got a new hair cut.
My children got nearly 60 dollars apiece.
I got a headache.
I can’t wait for next year.
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