“Haggling (as dad used to call it) is apparently half the fun. Seeing if you can get a stranger to accept even less money for the junk he doesn’t want anymore is supposedly quite a challenge.”

“Quick, turn right here!” my wife shouted unexpectedly on our way home from church last Sunday.
“Where?” I replied, trying my best to comply with her ever-so-polite request.
“Right there,” she shouted, grabbing the steering wheel herself to assist me.
“Thanks for the help,” I said sarcastically. “You almost took out two mailboxes and a stop sign. There are laws against that kind of thing, you know. Plus, the kids are in the car too. Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Stop overreacting. There was nobody coming in the other lane. And besides, we merely grazed the side of that fence. You can be so dramatic sometimes. Really. Anyway, we simply had to make that turn. Didn’t you see the sign?”
“Nope. Guess I missed it paying attention to oncoming traffic,” I said, still a little rattled at her passenger-seat driving.
As I regained my composure, I realized what my dear, sweet wife was talking about. Coming up on our left-hand side was another one. The words “GARAGE SALE TODAY” were hand-written in black magic marker on a piece of white poster board. I should have known. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I realized our swerving vehicle had taken out the sign on the corner.
“Nice job, hon,” I said (again with heavy sarcasm). “You took out their nice homemade sign with your craziness.”
“Oh, relax,” Shannon said. “We’ll pick it up on the way back. And this will help us avoid some of the competition. At least for this yard sale.”
The competition my wife spoke of was the other people attending the sale. Her fear, of course, was that they would either beat her to the “good stuff” or eliminate her ability to barter. If another person wants the same item you do, she reasoned, the owner would be unlikely to come off their price. In the worst-case scenario, it may even turn into a bidding war. This is more like an auction and, as my wife is quick to point out, the odds shift heavily toward the “house.”
And “haggling” (as dad used to call it) is apparently half the fun. Seeing if you can get a stranger to accept even less money for the junk he doesn’t want anymore is supposedly quite a challenge. Often, you can shave at least a dollar or more off your day’s booty with even a modest effort to wheel and deal. It’s very rewarding.
“You sure know an awful lot about garage sale-ing” (perfectly acceptable slang) I said, only half joking.
Truth be told, she often comes home from such escapades with a whole box full of these valuable treasures. DVDs, toys for the kids, board games, and anything else you could imagine. I must admit, she did find some pretty cool stuff at those darn things. And it’s all so cheap. But it just isn’t my cup of tea.
My one and only attempt at bargain hunting came on the way home from my brother’s house early one Saturday afternoon. Noticing a nice, brightly colored sign in an affluent neighborhood, I decided to try my luck. It was awful. My fatal flaw, as my wife later pointed out, was that I arrived way too late to find anything worthwhile. All the best stuff is usually gone by nine o’clock or so. Apparently, if you want to score a hardly used weight bench for under thirty bucks, you have to get up pretty early in the morning. Deals like that simply don’t make it past lunchtime.
“Everyone knows that,” my wife stated flatly.
Everyone, that is, except me. I had no idea the extreme these people will go to to get a good deal. For all I knew, my wife enjoyed getting up at five in the morning every weekend. I never dreamed this so-called competition really does exist. But they do. And they are relentless in their hunt for value. Some are even known to camp out all night at the bigger “neighborhood” garage sales in hopes of being the first to arrive. I guess it’s true what they say: one man’s junk truly is another man’s treasure. I think from now on I’ll leave this area to my wife’s unquestionable expertise. I just hope she leaves the driving to me.
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