The Southern Art of Buying Junk

Americans love bargains! Yard sales are the place to find them. Forget trying to beat some Turkish rug merchant on a deal. You’re not in his league until you’ve cut your teeth on the art of negotiating for junk.

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If you don’t think America has been on a buying binge, go yard shopping. Junk abounds. My bargaining skills get rusty, so I dust them off and go shopping at some ‘Estate’ sales. Here are a few pointers, and caveats for buying bargains in the arcane world of ‘too much junk.’

Never get in a rush! Leave that to first-timers. Seasoned yard shoppers know: shop late for low prices. Last Saturday we fueled up on caffeine, a couple of Red Bulls thrown in and prayed for rain. Yes, rain. Why? If you have to ask, you’re not ready to shop.

Sufficiently primed, we stuffed a wad of George Washington’s in our jeans, gassed up the pickup and headed out. Pickups are essential components of the ruse. They say, “I’m here to buy!” Same with clothing. No jewelry, no Rolex watch, no tortoise shell glasses. Just the basics: jeans, tee shirt and yesterday’s stubble.

We scout out several sales sites. At the first house an expectant couple greets us. She’s horrified at the public airing of their household follies. Hopeful anticipation is stamped on his smile. It’s early yet. Change is coming. Panic will etch itself on his face as the day wears on. She’ll hide in total humiliation.

We stroll around casually. Time’s on our side. We comment on their keepsakes in whispers just audible enough to hear. We snicker for effect. Their intuitive responses reveal their horror of failure. We assess their attitudes. I remove my wad of cash and count it for effect. The man hyperventilates. Cash does strange things to people.

Sellers must be sized up carefully. Are they greedy? Early on, they all are. They want to recoup something, anything, from that precious heirloom that’s now become an albatross. Will their face-saving pride get in the way of a sale?

Do they have emotional hang-ups with their castoff crap? Like the sofa the baby was conceived on, or their dog’s favorite chair? Are they desperate yet? They soon will be. We buy nothing here and move on. They’re dejected at our rejection of their treasures. I think I saw her cry.

All savvy yard shoppers know the first rule of buying bargains: you gotta risk losing it to get it. It eliminates the sense of urgency to buy. How does a seller read that? Buyer disinterest. The price free-falls.

We hit several more yards and perfect our disinterest with the stale aura of detachment. Acting is an art. It’s everything. Nothing works quite so well as wandering among people’s rejects and shaking your head. Sellers intuit this maneuver to mean you see through their stupidity in having bought such rubbish. Nothing works to soften up a seller’s perspective like exposing stupidity.

My favorite strategy is to ask, “What’s your bottom line?” Sellers sweat. They shuffle, hem and haw, tremble with fear of offending a buyer. Whatever the price, I whistle in shock disbelief. It sounds something like, “Whew.” Then I stagger backwards a few steps and utter “Whoa!” It’s a sledge hammer to a seller’s fragile ego. Prices collapse.

After assessing the day’s opportunities, we take a long lunch break. No need to rush. It’s cloudy. Rain’s coming. Prayers answered. Rain is a yard seller’s worst nightmare. Nature beats down prices better than we can. It’s now time to buy. We climb in the pickup and return to the first house.

Furniture galore awaits us. Shoppers avoid the rain like a plague. The owner runs from the house. He’s delirious. He grabs me by my Elvis tee shirt. “Just take it, take it all, it’s free. Take it outta my sight,” he shouts. I feel a twinge of conscience as he begs me and sobs uncontrollably on my shoulder.

“But sir, surely…” He cuts me off. “I’ll help you load it.” Deal done.

We shake hands. I admit to feeling a little cheesy, but hey, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure.

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Yard sales are the ultimate in recycling junk. Our good fortune furnished an entire rental house. Free. Yard sales are Gump’s chocolate box…you never know what you get unless you show up. Sounds a lot like life, doesn’t it?

Sometimes you just get lucky in both….