Working and Sailing

Having worked (currently working) in retail, I have come to really understand that nothing is shocking. Mix necessities with the general public and you have a front row seat to the greatest show on earth. Unlike rummage sales, which provides me with a voyeuristic glimpse into the lives, real or recreated in my head, of ordinary folks, the retail outlet store is a place where people aren't guarded and are how they are in real life.

Before I continue, mentioning rummage sales in the above paragraph forced a part of my brain to slowly awaken. I must, truly must, tell you my inner most thoughts on this practice of purchasing junk (read: possible treasure) directly from its previous captor.

There are many rules to follow when you go out on this treasure hunt. This is a list that I keep in my head, although if I went to the internet and did some actual research, I could find a list or two that would be the penultimate in rummage sale lists. Also, it would be nice to have a physical list in hand so as to avoid me tripping over the loose rules in my noggin.

The first rule is to avoid, at all costs, old people rummage sales. Old people, in the rummage sale world, think that junk that has been sitting in the garage since 1953 is an antique and is so priced. A shoebox full of old, rusted, bent nails retails for $15. Wrap it up, Ethel! Do you take Visa? What is it with the hotel bottles of shampoo running $2 a piece? Does the MGM get its cut? A box of peanut brittle you got from the kids twelve years ago and is unopened does not mean that it's alright to consume. I understand that you cannot eat it now that you got the new chompers, but, I think I'll run to the store and pick up a new box and save myself a couple of bucks. I cannot count the number of little baggies filled with sugar packets that I have seen at these rummage sales. I can five finger them just as well, thief! I'll call the cops right after I buy this antique spatula. Maybe you borrowed it from Jesus?

Second, avoid the Yuppie (is that term still used?) yard sale. These people will try to convince you that with a few upgrades, the Apple IIe for $200 is a great deal since they purchased it for $2000 back in the day( a phrase that I truly love). Of course, the Apple IIe is just first gen Mac and we all know how superior the Mac is, right? These are the people that don't really need the money but are shrewd business people that know how to take advantage of us schleps that like to decorate our abodes with antiquated furnishings, not in in kitschy way. Your first warning sign is the Subaru Outback parked in the driveway. The second is the apparel donned by the LL Bean loving entrepreneurs – if you see grey wool socks rolled down to their hiking boots with a sweatshirt tied around their waist with khaki shorts and a environmental love declaring t-shirt, you know that you need to move on. The third sign is the sale lay out. It's as if they have a yearning to open their own retail outlet business. Everything is nicely laid out and clearly priced. Every good rummage saler knows that stuff needs to be haphazardly placed about. This gives the hunter side of our human nature a little work out. The last sign IS the pricing. They aren't as concerned about getting rid of the stuff as much as they are about the profit. The sole reason for having a rummage sale is to rid yourself of the junk that you no longer need or use and you want have people pay to take it away so you don't have to pay the dump it in the landfill. Don't encourage these people and avoid these sales whenever possible.

Whether you purchase a newspaper and scour the want ads or you cruise around town looking for signs (my favorite way to enjoy a sunny Saturday morning), don't be fooled by the “Huge Sale”, “Multi-Family Sale” or the “Moving Sale”. More often than not, you will be sorely disappointed. With cloy marketing, these people are looking to entice the casual rummage saler. I've been taken in by them with false hopes that this will be the exception to the rule and I will find something worth my while. Sadly, though, this has never been the case. Time after time I leave disgusted and angry at myself for not adhering to my own rules. These marketed sales are yelling “We have too much shit and we don't want to take it to the landfill”. But, unlike the yuppie sale, this shit is marked to sell. Nothing is over a few bucks, except that “never been used” breast pump on the back table which, I must admit, I was tempted to purchase just so that I could say I own one. Keep in mind that, although marked to sell, it still is what it is (my least favorite phrase) and that is shit.

Two other ones to avoid are almost one in the same: the flea market couple and the “we got involved in a own your own business pyramid scheme and now we need to get rid of all this stuff” couple. From clothing and craft items to edibles and hygiene maintenance items, all the items here are new or like new. It is sad to see failed business ventures but there isn't anything here I couldn't get at Wal-Mart or the local souvenir shop downtown at a more reasonable rate. These people clearly don't understand what the market consumer is looking for. They are looking for things that they don't need, or didn't need, until happening upon that one item that strikes their fancy. A treasure, if you will. Something that you couldn't purchase at a retail store. An item that is a one of a kind, so to speak. I didn't need the gumball machine until I purchased it for a buck and turned it into an M & M dispensing piggy bank. Who knew?

Lastly, the rummage sales to avoid are the “why have we been keeping all these kids clothes?” sale. Nothing like rolling up to see a garage full of makeshift plywood tables piled to the ceiling with baby clothes. Most people that I know, when blessed with the news of an impending newborn, are bombarded with brand new clothes, may of which will never touch the skin of the newborn. So, why would anyone want hand me down onsies and such? Beats the hell out of me. It's akin to buying used underwear (that one baffles me to this day, seriously, underwear?) Do the country a favor and box that shit up and mail it directly to the US Treasury where they can turn that junk into gold, or crisp one dollar bills as is the case. Although, this type of sale did provide me with a little bit of amusement one Saturday morning. After seeing the tables upon tables of baby and toddler clothes, drool encrusted toys and other nonsense, I was captured by a sign that read “Adult Movies in the Back”. Score! Who wants to be seen entering or leaving a seedy adult bookstore when one can grab some smut from friendly neighborhood strangers? Sadly, though, I was disappointed to find some generic, blockbuster movies (Nick Cage, Kevin Costner, Harrison Ford, et. al.) that were not “kid” movies. Ah, disappointment galore.

Sorry to have gotten sidetracked in the most heinous way. Now, the story that I wanted to tell, rather than being a paragraph or two, has turned into so much more. And, the build up has been too great to be effective in the way that I wanted it to be. But, being a brave soul, I will venture forth in telling what I wanted to tell. Here goes it anyways.

First night working alone, I was busy doing all the things that a member of the management staff has to do. Running here and there, my head was trying to stay ahead of where my body was, making sure that everything was being attended to. I was hurrying out of the stockroom to take care of a refund or change or any number of things, when I noticed a sweatpants wearing lady, in the first aid aisle, with her right hand elbow deep in the front of her pants fishing for something I wished not think of. Being that I was on a mission, I did not stop to find out if she had found what she was looking for. After finishing my business, I decided to make my rounds. When I went up front, a small line had formed, so, I decided to jump behind the register to help ease the congestion. And, you undoubtedly have figured out that the first person that I help turns out to be the crotch digger. She walks up and slams down a box of vag/yeast cream. Then she starts uncrumpling a series of slightly damp ones and placing them on the counter. I tell her that I would take care of that, give her her change and then she is gone. Ronsol lighter fluid and a match for the money, acid bath and a can of Lysol for my hands and the transaction is complete.

I recount this episode to remind people that crotch digging is not, in any circumstances, acceptable in public (I do all mine in my car). Nose picking is somewhat okay (I would like to see less and less of it) and snuggy removal is fine, as long as it is done correctly. But, do not dig in your crotch, regardless if someone is watching or not. Stop the insanity! Please!