We sold our stuff this morning. As always, the things I thought would go immediately, we're left lugging back up the stairs to our house. Crazy how that happens? I don't understand it. The things that I saw as just "ehh" sold like hotcakes. The things I loved, and put time and thought into pricing fairly and arranging on our table -- nothing. No interest.
Sean was, of course, thrilled to wake up at 7:30 on a Saturday, carry heavy boxes and bins filled with stuff down a flight of stairs, down a hallway, across the parking lot to the car, only to sit outside for hours dealing with people bartering to get something for .10 cents cheaper... only to pack up and carry all the stuff that didn't sell back to the car, through the parking lot, up the hallway, up the flight of stairs to the second bedroom.
I don't know that this could be a career for me (sitting outside and talking to people all day who PS aren't that friendly) but it was fine to do for the morning. It was nice to sit outside with my husband and just hang out. We got a very shady spot... Sean was pumped -- I was so sad since I wore my sunhat and sunscreen in anticipation of being in the sun. I smiled at everyone (they only sometimes smiled back) and I sold things that were still in original packaging and had never been used... but at the time of purchase "I had to have it". Of course.
Some people were all business. I like to call them the "professionals". They seemed to carry a fanny pack, and had a pocket filled with quarters. While they can sure barter with prices, I enjoyed them the most because they had exact change.
Some people were all stressed. I like to call them the "I needed something to do with my kids so I came here and now they don't want to be here and I no longer have time to look at your crap". They did not tend to have exact change and in fact paid with $20s for items that were .25 cents. Yes, it happened, and yes I was super frustrated.
Some people were all leisure. I like to call them the "I don't need anything here but could probably find a use so let me just glance and pick through everything five times until my husband tells me it's time to move on". They mostly bought scarves and paper.
Some people were like a hurricane. I like to call them the "I'm going to destroy your whole display by picking up every single thing and putting it down on top of something else and then just walk away". They didn't buy anything, ever.
What did I learn?
- The elderly are cute and nice until you talk prices. The gloves literally come off and they make you feel teeny-tiny.
- Some people lack politeness and thoughtfulness. (Side note here, they will cough all over everything and then expect you to take something from them -- have hand sanitizer for these moments).
- When you leave the table to go to the bathroom, and leave your husband to "man the booth" -- no one stops at the table filled with women's stuff being sold by a man covered in tattoos. No one.
We left the yard sale with $101.25, sounds good, right? Well let's factor in this:
For five hours of work divided by two people... in addition to subtracting:
-$15 for the cost of selling stuff
-$40 for the amount of money we had to take out of the bank in order to have change
-$1 for the cinnamon roll we had to purchase so we could break the $20 the bank gave us
That's a grand total of: $45.25
That's roughly $4.50 an hour. Ha. Jeez.
So was it successful? I guess it depends on how you view success?