I’d Rather Be (Garage) Sailing

Saturday morning Greg and I forfeited our Saturday morning sleep-ins in favour of taking to the streets and attempting something I’d wanted to do for a long time - a Garage Sale Au Go Go. Well experienced in similar, batched op-shop extravaganzas, I wanted to take it into people’s backyard, cut out the middle man, and see what people were willing to spread on their grass for a day.

Starting out bright and early at 7am, we didn’t wrap up till about 11am. That said, neither of us bought a single thing. Out of the 15 or so home-made markets, not one item plucked our fancies. What we did find were a few cold hard facts about the human condition, and better still, they were free for our taking.

Greg and I were both very much novices at this, and we weren’t sure what the rules were. Do you make chat to the house owner? Do you linger if there is nothing you’re interested in just to raise their hopes a little? Can you bargain? Can you steal?

At our very first stop, we picked up a few tips to help the process go a lot smoother. Firstly, it’s never good to engage in conversation. Anyone who turns their garage into a makeshift shop front will fancy themselves quite the amateur salesman. As we flicked through half a dozen ratty paperbacks, the woman spotted we were talking about the David Niven book and approached us, “Oh yes, I’ve read his other book. It was very good.” Spruking like this seems tolerable when it’s a commercial product and you’re getting paid to do it, it’s somewhat less comforting when it is actually a birthday present from your Aunt Joyce in 1973. We also learnt not to linger. There is no shame in doing a full 180 and walking straight out if there is nothing of interest. Ultimately, you’re saving yourself time, and the house owner can go back to talking to the neighbour or whatever.

We were, however, lucky enough at our very first stop to meet our first professional garage saler, and we continued to spot her in action at other houses throughout the morning. She seemed entranced by this small box of half-used hand lotions, and was secretly trying them out when we had distracted the owner with our David Niven talk. She pored over the few gunked up bottles for a few minutes. I like to think she didn’t buy anything, but that by the end of the morning, she would have had her full makeup and beauty regime completed.

Our second stop was just as disappointing. Greg assumed it was the result of a breakup, but the owner had interestingly laid the items out in aisles, as if were were identifying bodies in a mass grave, marking the prices on masking tape like makeshift toe tags. The major problem with this sale was not the preparation or display, which were both above average, but the atmosphere. The much younger owner looked visibly uncomfortable by the fact that people were rummaging through her (or as Greg assumed, her ex-partner’s) belongings. This situation soon explained itself as I noticed a small, ape like woman with long mulleted hair as dark as the skin between her toes crouched in the corner over a few piles in the 20 cent aisle. Suddenly she swung a rusty knife to the air towards the owner who was standing far too close and shouted, “This cut good?”. She snarled it again as the owner probably attempted to dial 000 on the mobile through her pocket. “Um, it’s sharp.” We didn’t hang around to see if this woman bought the knife or if she slit the owner’s throat to avoid paying 20 cents.

The rest of the morning proceeded in a much similar fashion. One woman had prepared a ‘Welcome Speech’ to be presented to each guest as the arrived, and included the line “Feel free to haggle with me, ignore the marked prices.” Unfortunately she wasn’t exactly true to her word when an elderly lady approached her with a small linen doyle and asked how much. “Fifteen dollars.” The old woman furrowed her brow, “Oh dear, I couldn’t give you more than a dollar for it.” I thought even that was exceptionally generous. “Sorry, I know what it’s worth” replied the owner as she snatched it back. As I rummaged through a few torn Agatha Christies and water damaged Bryce Courtneys, she approached and declared “The paperbacks are five dollars each. Known authors and books with more than one story are more.” Honey, someone needs to talk to you about eBay.

Most displays of the day were pathetically inadequate. I had delighted in sharing tales with Greg of buying 100 comics for a dollar when I was a kid, of finding awesome gadgets and boxes of mystical wonder. Instead we were greeting with piles of people’s trash, quite literally in some cases. One house had crates of dirty old jars that hadn’t been seen since the ’80s. Another woman was literally trying to sell a used ice-cream container.

One experience which Greg and I would probably rather forget, was entering the dark carport of an elderly couple to find that tales of “Garage Sale within” with two large stuffed toys were actually rather misleading. Instead, these old people were hocking ferns. Many, many ferns. That wasn’t the worst of it. When we entered, suddenly this stench hit us. Like 300 rats eating each other as they died, the smell made us all a little woosey. So much so I even looked at the ferns for half a second and thought, “I guess I could use a fern.” I’m going to put that down to toxic inhalation and an immense feeling of unsatisfaction.

Our earlier trepidation quickly turned to elite ‘tude. We strutted in, shoulders back and silently shouted, “Impress me.” Alas, by the end of the day I was so underwhelmed that a sausage mcmuffin from MacDonalds became the best purchase of my morning. We even had to go out to an op-shop just to remind ourselves of what can be.

Some people, including myself and Greg, might describe our morning as a complete and utter failure. True. But in fact, if you really stretch the truth, it turns out we got a lot of trash and just a little treasure in the hearts of those who’s fingers flicked through the same boxes of garbage that morning with us, and those special souls who wake up one morning and say, “Yes, my garbage really is worth spreading on my lawn and guilting someone into purchasing.” Amen.