Mike and I drove back to Clarkston from the farm Thursday evening so that I could help at a rummage sale, a major fundraiser for my P.E.O. chapter. Set-up was Friday morning with the sale on Saturday, 8:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. Then there's the worst part – the inevitable take down, and at that point it almost seemed like nothing sold. As the last shopper walked out the door, we took large garbage bags and simply threw away the remaining house wares, decorative items, freebie mugs, etc., while packing the remaining clothing, books, and sundries for a church-sponsored rummage sale next weekend. If it didn't sell at one rummage sale, will it sell at the next? But we were grateful someone was willing to take the stuff because we discovered that local organizations such as Goodwill and the Salvation Army no longer pick up sale leftovers.
The rummage sale always makes me think about the value of things. We pay a premium for new goods, but let them show up at a rummage sale – even if they're still new – and everyone wants something for nothing. And what a statement on our changing world – two slide projectors with boxes of slide trays, two printers, one TV set, a box of LP albums, many movies in VCR format (those sold), and many used VCR tapes (those didn't sell), a set of encyclopedias (didn't sell), and boxes of romance novels (many left). The things we recognized as valuable and priced a little higher did not sell. Frankly, I made a nice donation to the chapter and "bought" whatever I wanted, including a nice Rubbermaid storage bowl, a new dustpan, my Mother's Tupperware cake carrier (donated by my sister), some fabric, a pattern for tote bags, and – this may surprise you – clothes, including a casual summer dress (Draper & Damon), a wool Koret suit (pants and jacket) in dark olive green, Alfred Dunner separates, etc. I thought if nothing else it would give me a chance to experiment with sizes and styles. No one is going to know that these things spent some time in someone else's closet before landing in mine.
After lunch today Mike and I were shopping at a real store in real time. We had picked up a few items and were standing in a rather long line with just one check station open. "Look at that," Mike whispered to me; "now the checker is going to talk on her cellphone with all these people in line."
"Hello," said the checker into her cellphone. Suddenly her face darkened, as they say, -- and I mean it was dark -- and the tears began to fall. "Are you coming in to work today? I'm here all by myself and I can't get away. I've been here alone since 8:45. I have no one to relieve me." You could hear a pin drop as shoppers began to sympathize. "Then if you can't come in, will you please find someone to come help me?" I got the feeling that whoever she called was not sympathetic to her plight, but apparently a young man in line knew another employee of the store. He said he would call "Kyle" for her. He came back a few minutes later and said that Kyle would be there in 15 minutes. KW
2 comments:
One time we were in line at the K-Mart in South Philadelphia, and when people in line started loudly grumbling about the wait for someone dealing with a credit card problem, the cashier yelled, "All yaz can just go to hell!" Barbara and I still laugh about that.
Your story had a nicer ending.
Thanks for sharing that, Murray. It wasn't good PR for the store but at least it broke the monotony. KW
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