Spokane yard sale follies: The good, the bad and the downright ugly
Years of wheeling and dealing at Spokane yard sales have left my basement storage room brimming with boxes of Beanie Babies. I once donated over a thousand of the collectible critters to Toys for Tots, but later suffered from Beanie remorse. I’ve since replenished that mammoth inventory. My fondness for cuddly Ty bears with pristine swing tags once earned me the title of Beanie Lady from a South Hill seller.
Hoarding? I prefer to call it stocking up.
As I stockpile, my husband complains. His response remains consistent with each carload of “great deals” I bring through the door. “You’d save more money if you just stayed home,” he grumbles. True, but the thrill of those hunts is priceless. To appease his concerns for clutter, I’ve adopted a sneak and hide strategy with purchases. Slip them in while he’s slumbering on the couch, stash them in a closet he never opens.
My biggest weakness? Motivated sellers.
When temperatures rise, prices plummet at yard sales. On a recent Spokane scorcher, I spied a fully decorated Christmas tree on a driveway plastered with free signs. I quickly claimed ownership of the 6-foot beauty and attempted to pick it up. A mixed array of colorful ornaments clinked onto the asphalt beside me. “This would look great on our porch, but my husband would kill me,” I muttered. A woman standing nearby grinned wryly and offered sympathy to my bah humbug situation. “But those are the best items to bring home,” she said. With no further hesitation, I scooped up the tree and crammed it into the back of my car.
How could I go wrong?
But I have many times. Despite stupendous bargains from generous sellers, my shopping excursions have not been entirely void of sketchy setbacks and frustrations … some par for the penny-pinching course, others the result of my own innate frugality.
The Xbox incident
A like-new Xbox 360 with eight games for $30? It seemed too good to be true, so I walked away. That was my first mistake. The second was telling my teenage son about it. “One of those games is worth $30 alone,” he screamed. I faced his wrath for months.
The unexpected surprise
I once discovered a gold tooth buried in a plastic bag of jewelry I had purchased. Yuck! Knowing the value of that precious metal, I decided to return it to the seller. Embarrassed, she offered me a refund as shocked customers looked on. Enough said.
Going, going, gone
A South Hill guy offered to sell me an early 1960s Mickey Mantle baseball card for $10. I passed on the superstar card due to a minuscule scuff mark on it. “Ten bucks for Mickey Mantle, it doesn’t get much better than that,” the seller laughed. A man hovering behind me quickly snatched up the vintage item. Curious, I later looked up the card value on eBay and anguished for weeks over my major league mistake.
Let’s make a deal
Unpriced items create an awkward dilemma for shoppers. With no starting point for negotiation, these situations are laced with emotional land mines.
Buyer: “How much do you want for the Willie Nelson Chia Pet?”
Seller: “Make me an offer.”
Buyer: “How about a buck?”
Seller: “Oh, I can’t let it go for that, it’s like new.”
Buyer: “How about three?”
Seller: “I’d have to get at least $5, it belonged to my Aunt Gertrude.”
Haggling and lowballing are part of the yard sale game. If an item means that much to you, keep it.
The bachelor
I should have known better. The ad said “Divorce Sale.” Stained carpets blazed a path to grimy boxes overflowing with junk. Reaching into them warranted gloves and a hazmat suit. The condition of his home offered an insight to his current life situation. Disorganized. Messy. Chaotic. Judging by the prices he was asking, I could tell the divorce was costly.
What yard sale?
Nothing saps that spirit of the hunt faster than chasing neon pink “Huge Sale” signs for miles only to discover a closed garage door and tattered box at the end of the driveway filled with chipped coffee mugs, stained clothing and filthy Happy Meal toys. Before counting that money, please take down your signs.
It’s not all doom and gloom.
Yard sales are filled with heartwarming Kodak moments. Tiny shoppers rummaging through quarter boxes. Young entrepreneurs marketing baked goods and lemonade. Best yet, browsing through treasures on packed tables offers a glimpse into the personal interests of each seller. I recently bought a Dan Fogelberg CD from a South Hill woman who extended her forearm to share the tattooed lyrics from one of his songs with me. That instant driveway camaraderie with strangers is what makes shopping at these sales so enthralling.