Enjoyed the privilege of listening to a 30-yr-old Praire Home Companion rebroadcast that also featured Willie Nelson this evening. Earlier this morning I engaged in what might best be called the local Yard Sale Wars. A friend whos sold her house to move to FL was trying to clear out the excess first, of course; she even called me to invite me over to shop. I leaped at the chance. Thats when the minor trouble started. Too many shoppers, too little help, and an unfortunate group of participants, with some of whom I share a mutual distaste. I gathered up a pretty good pile of stuff but wasnt through by any means when one of the helpers sashayed over and started to gather stuff up w/o so much as a by-your-leave. I gave a polite cough and said, Those are mine. She said, Im taking them to the pay table to bag them up for you. I had to snatch the whole armload back and say a little more firmly, No, youre not. I said theyre mine and theyll stay with me until Im ready to leave! She gave me a dirty look and stomped off but she knew better than to push me any more. Heres why I wont let people do that: 1) Its rude to just pick up somebody elses stuff w/o asking, no matter who you are or think you are. 2) Under the best circumstances Ive still seen so much chaos at a pay table that some people get sent home with the wrong bags or items, etc. Happened to me once. 3) Especially when things are not marked and the price given by the host or helpers is only verbal, or special deals have been struck, Im not about to contend with people at the pay table over what I really owe. 4) Worst case scenario, if the person with the cash box holds any grudge against you and if you let them bag your stuff, horrible things can happen. I lay things on the table one at a time, announce the price I was given, and bag it myself. People pretty much know now not to mess with it because Im faster than they are! One time years ago here in this backwater, I danced up to a table with a precious Victorian-style Santa Claus cookie jar and set it down while frisking myself for my wallet. Then I watched in horror as the woman picked up that very collectible and expensive cookie jar, and she slammed it down on the table so it shattered. It wasnt even hers. She was just helping her daughter hold a sale. But she hated Democrats with a passion, and that was her way of getting back even if it cost her daughter $40. Ill never understand that kind of thing. So now I just keep control of everything throughout the process. If some helpers less malevolent than the one described above still want to think Im rude because theyre too bloody used to getting their own way (as perhaps I am), thats a small price to pay. I literally cannot abide bossy people.
Posted on: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 04:39:31 +0000
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