One-one-eight-two-point-five-one. Just under $1,200, spread across four auction listings, the heftiest of which closed at $711 in the last 10 seconds of bidding. That was my take from Sunday night, after peddling garbage to discriminating fans of garbage on eBay, but make no mistake. It wasn’t an easy $1,182.51, nor did it even amount to $1,182.51, after fees and shipping, but it’s a few hundred bucks I didn’t have, reclaimed space I’ve long needed, and it’s a road I must tread now.
There was the initial euphoria of discovering found money, to be sure. But then the grim truth dawned on me: this is going to be a part-time job. Posting auctions is time-consuming, but straightforward enough. It’s the customer service that’s maddening. Questions, so many questions. Part of the challenge stems from the merchandise being peddled, and the strange population of bidders they seem to attract. It’s, like, no, sir, I don’t know if Optimus comes with all his parts, nor do I frankly care! That’s what an “as-is” auction is, is it not? I merely need to know I’m selling a Transformer, not actually sit down and see if he still transforms.
The hope of a better day comes from slinging a speaker set, for instance, or a DVD. Plug that shit in and it lights up–check. Crack open the DVD case and see a disc there, free of scratches–done and done. But even then, there will be the issues I cannot escape, such as chasing down payment and the fees. Oh, god, the fees. eBay takes a 10% cut. Paypal takes a 2.9% cut. Printing a shipping label? Time to lube up and pay with Paypal dollars. This eBay-Paypal union conjured images of a coal mining company, complete with scrip to be used at the company store. My standing policy has been to fish my money out of this shithouse as soon as humanly possible, and it’s served me well so far.
But that’s the cost of doing business, I suppose, the admission fee for accessing these garbage connoisseurs. I’ve managed to scavenge some items that should streamline my time and costs–a few large boxes, packing materials, a stack of UPS forms, even a camera. I’m going to take a break after this first round to hone my auction copy and figure out how to operate a digital camera. Then, it’s back into the fray. Trash by the pound! Get your like-new trash right here, shipped free.
Secondhand Rants will return on Tuesday, April 23.
On a normal Sunday afternoon last weekend, which started out much like the normal Sunday afternoon prior to it, something extraordinary happened, a seismic shift of self. I’m of the belief that, especially as you get older, changing yourself requires a herculean amount of effort, if not outright cataclysm. That’s why I’m regarding this episode as a freebie because, out of the blue, I’ve started selling the clutter in my life. I’ve caught the bug to divest my unwanted possessions, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to stop anytime soon, such is the lure of capitalism.
I’ve mentioned this plan to sell before, but after my last cleaning coup, the convenience of dumping stuff at Goodwill looked like a far easier option. When my old man left the country, he dropped off relics from the house I grew up in. A speaker set. A receiver. Board games. Two chess sets. Toys from the ’80s when I was, what, seven or eight? Books. Records. Nine cardboard boxes of refuse that have proved too mentally daunting to process. Why not just haul them to my trunk and get that tax-deductible receipt? There would be the warm and fuzzies to be culled from altruism as well–the thought of little Jimmy gleefully discovering Optimus Prime, for instance, on a Goodwill shelf for three bucks.
Well, as soon as I threw a few of these artifacts onto eBay and one of the listings hit three hundy in 20 minutes, with six days left on the clock, it was, like, fuck you, Jimmy. I’d rather sell Optimus to the grown man online. The old Yamaha receiver? Market’s valuing the remote control itself at $45. Suddenly, these ancient cardboard boxes transformed from garbage into pure cheddar. After I clear out this batch of stuff, it’s onto the things I no longer care for: DVDs, for instance, or old computer games. I have fond memories of them, to be sure, but nostalgia’s nostalgia. You don’t step in the same river twice, so goes the saying–the new memories I’ve been making here, now, are what entice.
Am I simply trading materialism for greed? Perhaps. I see the tension there. There’s a sense, too, of freedom, of clearing the clutter from your life. But yeah, the second income is nice. It’s like seeing money fall out of the sky, every time you refresh the screen. Take a few pictures, write some snappy copy, and presto! Junk to gold. It’s a change I need at the moment–a different alchemy for a different time.