GARAGE SALES ANONYMOUS -( Originally appeared in the Toronto Star)

I have a garage sale at least once a year and I have two clearcut goals. To make a bit of money ( usually enough to buy a cheap dinner because I’ll be too tired to cook by the end) and to get rid of enough stuff so that a pathway through the basement to the laundry room is once again visible. However, once I drag the stuff out, price it and and spend all night putting up signs that fall down by morning, the desire to make profit sets in. My sales skills are honed by intense observation at other people’s garage sales.

Most sellers adhere to the notion that their loss should become mine. One woman explained that a dress cost her $200 dollars, but lucky me, she’d make me a deal and charge $50. “I’ve got 6 bucks in my pocket. I’m looking for a BARGAIN. I can pay $50 at a store.”
“But you save the tax here.”
“ So?” I shout back. “This stuff is in your garage. It smells like your house. You don’t get to ask $50 for a dress that has sweat stains on it.”

Unfortunately, even though this lady will never be able to fit into that dress again, she is waiting to get her asking price. So far the highest offer is a twoonie from someone who wants to use it as a Halloween costume.
I get paid back for my intolerance at my own garage sales. Then the really cheap people show up. They haggle no matter how good my prices are. Once, three elderly women with buggies arrived at my house after walking for miles. They were determined to find a bargain. We were offering glasses for fifty cents apiece. They wanted them for ten. If I said something was ten cents they wanted it for five. If I offered to give it away, they said, “ throw in the dishes and you’ve got a deal.” It’s as if the law of Canadian politeness is temporarily suspended. Turn down an offer, that is a tenth of the asking price and you’re risking physical violence. “You’ll never get that, you’re crazy,” a man screams as he shakes his fist at me, makes a getaway in his minivan filled with bargains like 8 track tapes and manual typewriters.

Some people just make up their own price. “I’ll take this for a dollar,” says a man from behind dark sunglasses, as he scoops up my popcorn maker clearly marked ten. “It’s old, it probably doesn’t work, I’m doing you a favour.”

Another neat trick is to show up without money. “All I have is a dollar fifty” mutters a woman sadly as she tries to make off with a twenty dollar item. This in front of about 10 of her relatives who are in town for the weekend. “No, you can’t come inside to see what else I have to sell.” I yell, while trying to shake of the youngest daughter who is on the ground prying my shoe off. Seems she needs shoes in that colour. Meanwhile, mama is slowly counting pennies out of her change purse, even though the twenties stuffed in the side pocket are a dead give away.

My theory is that everyone who frequents garage sales is looking for that unknown treasure, the kind you see on the Antique Road Show, that looks awful but is worth thousands. Meanwhile everyone who has a sale is fantasizing that their castoffs will bring in enough dough to buy that new couch. Both improbable situations but tempting enough to brave the elements for a day and mingle with neigbours and other strangers. What’s peace of mind compared to tax free money?