Garage Sale

I hate garage sales. To me, they're all just a slight upgrade from the junkyard in the front of Fred Sanford's house. In fact, every time I see a garage sale I hear the Sanford and Son theme song playing in my head and I look for Lamont's truck. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled this morning when I found out that multiple houses on my block would be hosting several of their own.

Didn't EBAY render garage sales extinct? Instead of the junk sitting on your front lawn, you simply put pictures on the computer and let the games begin. You don't have to worry about negotiating, and unlike the haggling that's built into the bazaar like atmosphere of a garage sale, the final price usually settles higher, and not lower than the original price. I guess not everyone is computer savvy and there is something nice about not worrying about delivery, as these crazed bargain hunters will haul your trash away for you.

I purposely slept late hoping to snooze through the junk tsumani block party. And just when I thought I was out of the woods, my kids arrive home from dance class, see the neighbors' sales, and their brains begin moving at the speed of light. It's that instant epiphany where the mind races and kids see dollar signs under their eyelids. So now that they agreed upon a sale of their own, it was time to take inventory.

I didn't want any part of this. A garage sale? Coming from my garage? Now I'd have to contend with all those professional garage sales people. You know who I mean. Those people that drive around with special Garmins that are programmed to find every garage sale within a 50 mile radius looking for that one lamp that matches the paisley couch they bought in 1965. Or that Mom with young kids that negotiates every toy down to a nickel even if when you originally bought them, you paid more than a nickel just for the tax. Did I really need this on a Saturday. Or did I?

My basement is filled with Fisher Price toys, baby dolls, plastic food, Dora action figures, and a series of other items that were taken out of the playing rotation years ago. And my attic was filled with old DVDs that we've held onto despite the fact that we don't have an active DVD player in the entire house. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all. Maybe I would even help. I immediately snapped into salesman mode and began pitching the kids of what to throw in the junk pile based on how much they could make. I won a few and lost a few. How was I supposed to know that their first drum and tambourine actually had sentimental value? But none of that mattered. The end game is what counted and I was about to unload some very garage sale worthy items.

The kids worked like pros, using all the classic sales tactics like buy one, get one free and bulk discounts. Some of the day's highlights included selling a DVD box set of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" to a man who had never even heard of the show and the sale of two Cinderella chairs to a woman in a minivan while the car was still moving.

They generated $100 net for the day minus a 10% commission to our young next door neighbor who didn't have any "junk" of her own to sell, but was willing to help with the labor intensive set up. Our shoppers were all very cordial and we even met one nice family where we exchanged phone numbers for a future get together.

I asked my young entrepreneurs what they planned to do with the money, and they quickly responded that they would both like a new bean bag chair for their rooms. It seemed like a perfect choice as a reward for a hard day's work. I just had one thought on my mind.

How long would it be before they're hawking two bean bag chairs in an upcoming garage sale?