Pat’s Point of View

On the weekend, I took part in an age-old Australian tradition, a garage sale (see also ‘yard sale’ or ‘car boot sale’). The ringmaster of this sales spectacular was my father in law, but we had a total of four vendors vying for shopper’s attention: my wife and myself, my sister in law and her two kids, my brother in law and his two kids and of course the ‘godfather of the garage’ himself :)

As I quickly found out, a Fenech garage sale is like no other garage sale. Weeks, nay months, of preparation preceded the event, including an ad in the local paper and the production of several attention-grabbing signs for placement along key local traffic routes. Not to mention the furious activity at the home of each vendor, as anything not bolted down was considered for sale. I myself offered up a number of items, but as time would tell, they weren’t exactly hot items.

The actual day of the garage sale was absolutely military in its precision and execution; 6:00AM was the advertised start time, this was serious business! Unfortunately this required an excruciating 5:00AM start for us, on a night where temperatures reached zero in many parts of Sydney. Absurd I hear you say, who would rock up to a pre-dawn garage sale?! Well bugger me, people were lined up waiting when we arrived! It was still dark. But as I learnt, this is when the real professional shoppers arrive, to get the best bargains. Some of these early birds commented that they were surprised we didn’t get more the night before. Evidently, this is a key strategy employed by the most cut-throat of bargain hunters, to secure the best buys before the sale even opens….we only had one such person the night before.

We had quite a variety of ‘goods’ for sale, including kids clothes and toys, CDs, videos, shoes, tools, small appliances, computers, stereos, lounge suites, washings machines and a commercial fridge (see photo). But, as a relative newcomer to the world of garage sales (it was seldom practised by my family), what really struck me was the number and variety of people who showed up. There were locals who were responding to the splattering of hand-made signs mounted all over the front of the house, then there were those ‘doing the rounds’—apparently they went from garage sale to garage sale as a hobby. Of course we had the pros who appeared in a flash, assessed our collection for potential collectors’ items (”unopened boxes” are the key) and then disappeared as quickly as they had popped up. There were ‘drive bys’, most of whom did a double-take as they drove past and ended up reversing back down the street. We had shoppers who seemed to shop this way out of necessity rather than choice, and then there were people you would never expect to go to a garage sale; European-luxury-car-driving people.

Some had definite shopping objectives (”you got any mobile phones?”), but most would simply browse and discover. Some people came and went several times during the day (we were open for business for an exhausting 11 hours). Some haggled like their lives depended on it (if you fail to realise the value of 50 cents these days, drop in to a garage sale or local market) and others would happily pay the sticker price. Some people left with one item, others seemed determined to fill their car with stuff.

It was a long day with several quiet periods, so I took to making signs. Leveraging any scrap of marketing and psychology theory I could infuse into my signs was an enjoyable way to pass the time. One of my goals was to help clear the big ticket items (the actual underlying reason for the garage sale–clearing stuff out of the garage) by bringing them to shoppers’ attention and highlighting the phenomenal bargains on offer ($20 a piece for lounge chairs, $50 for the matching sofa!). Another goal was to point out that prices were negotiable, for the benefit of those people who didn’t try to haggle us down in 10 cent increments. There was much use of the phrases “make us an offer” and “everything must go” :)

Despite the fairly high foot traffic, we didn’t sell as much as we had hoped, but each vendor made over $150 each. Not bad for one Saturday. Or should I say, not bad for a pile of junk, which may be the more appropriate conclusion—you would not believe some of the things people actually paid money for. In terms of clearing out the big stuff, we didn’t do so well. The “Oasis” commercial refrigerator didn’t sell, so if you’re in the market for one, let me know. It’s in good working order and as big as a bus, even if it has seen better days. Same goes for a lovely two-seat sofa bed, which other than having changed hands more times than a rented pair of gloves, is in fairly good nick and a bargain at only $50 o.n.o. Make us an offer!

The funniest thing about the day would have to be watching two young entrepreneurs in the making; my two 11 year old nephews transformed from mere children into omnipresent salesmen that any used-car salesman would be proud of. There is nothing they wouldn’t try and sell, and if that failed they could always act cute and sucker the old ladies out of at least $5. But none of this is a surprise considering the example their grandfather was setting, never giving a second thought to selling a lump of wood for a dollar or selling a can of paint to someone who came in looking for a painting.

Would I ever throw a garage sale again? Well maybe, but I’d probably go to a car boot sale or street market. There’s something oddly attractive about selling stuff that you would otherwise probably have to spend money to dispose of. Will I go bargain hunting myself? I may do, I think it could be pretty interesting, even if the intention is never to buy a single thing.

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