Garage-sale sociology

Garage sales are part business venture and part social experiment. That is my conclusion after my experience last weekend. Oh, and a whole lot of hard work. But that part isn't as interesting.

The sale is a business venture in that, as I explained to Jellybean, it's like setting up a store that is open for two days. You choose a location (for some, as simple as, garage or yard?), sort and price your merchandise, establish your accounting system and advertise your business. Aside from the location, the rest of those steps are pretty critical in making it successful. But the business end isn't the most interesting component.

To me, the social experiment is the diamond in the rough. Everyone knows that you see interesting people at garage sales. And I'm a sucker for good people-watching, so observing our "customers" was an added benefit for me. I feel like I have a whole new understanding of the people who live in my area -- and the whole country, for that matter.

Some of the people were kind of funny: the wheeler-dealers who will cut the price on anything just because they can, the lonely people who stay at the sale for 45 minutes mostly to have someone to talk to the whole time, the quirky people in altered states who try to stick the price tags on you when they make their purchase, you get the idea. It was great to be doing the sale with my friend, because we could exchange information about those people after they left, like what they bought and the reason we thought they bought what they bought.

Others of our customers seemed all right until you looked below the surface. There were many entire families shopping together -- dad, mom and all the kids -- and it was clear that they were there because garage sales are the source of their clothing and shoes and other necessities. I doubt many families with young kids would choose garage sales as their top weekend morning activity (some would, I'm sure, but I could tell that wasn't the case for many folks we saw). I wanted to secretly give them whatever they needed instead of making them pay.

There was another customer shopping with her little daughter whom I will probably never forget. I can't bring myself to go into detail here, but I will always question whether I should have intervened in an ugly situation. The little girl got a Dora doll, and let's just say I hope that doll will give her some sense of love and security.

As a marketing person, I can't help be most interested in why people bought what they bought, i.e., where the business venture and social experiment intersected. We worked very hard at presentation and making it easy to get to everything we had -- we had so much stuff, we were constantly shifting items around as other things were sold. We had "departments" like clothing, housewares, electronics, etc., so it was easy to find specific things.

The first things we sold? Some drapery panels, a dated duvet cover and several pairs of out-of-style ladies' shoes, including my worn-out Merrells. We had tons of baby gadgets, toys and clothes, yet that is what went first. Eventually, of course, many of those sold as well.
Children's books, old purses and baby hats all surprised us with their popularity. We restocked those for the second day because they had flown off the shelves. Same with used (once) gift bags, which we sold 2 for $1. People loved that.

The things that didn't sell? We thought these were guaranteed to go, and yet we still have them: a computer chair, a baby bouncy seat, Baby Bjorn, portable radio and DVD movies. Our stuff was cheap, so lack of demand must be the culprit.

As interesting as all these things were to Spin Mama the business person, Spin Mama the people-watcher and Spin Mama the marketer, I think it will be a while before I do another garage sale. At the very least, it will be several years (thankfully) before I can accumulate enough stuff to sell. And, even though I have an organized basement, clutter-free closets and fewer material things (ahh!) to add to my meager profits, I still put more effort into this single project than I have into anything in a long time. It's nice to have my life back this week.

Stuff

My first garage sale is this weekend. The amount of stuff we have accumulated in this house astounds me. And I'm not even a shopper. These are things we deemed "necessary" or something close to necessary to function in life. Insane.

So as I've been sifting through what amounts to almost another entire house in our basement, I've come across all kinds of items. They really are just things, and I rarely miss material items once I get rid of them. I have discovered a bit of a purpose to all this "stuff," though: It jogs the memories.

Without the junk, I wouldn't have thought of all the things I've thought of in the past week, like events of my life flashing before me. I still have -- for the moment, anyway -- some of my old cassette tapes, many from the 80s. It amazed me how just seeing the name of one singer or song could bring to mind old friends and complete scenes and events. Strangely, the same thing occurred with my old purses. I recalled carrying that purse to such-and-such event when such-and-so happened.

I'm selling all the little-baby toys, gadgets (speaking of stuff that wasn't really "necessary" -- all the baby crap astounds me) and baby clothes, since we don't plan on more kids. All except The Orange Crocs and a few other little items, which I'm keeping for posterity. Having been at home with my girls more than I have worked full time since they were born, I feel like I remember vividly all the tidbits from their babyhoods. Of course, that's through a sleep-deprived filter and covering almost four years.

So last night, I was folding baby sleepers and nighties, and I was transported by a total recall of memories from Jellybean's infancy. L usually had post-bath duty in those days because it gave him a special time with her since I was nursing. I remembered how he would always talk to Jellybean in the sweetest way. He told her every night what animal or design was on her pajamas, and he talked to her about how pretty she was and how much he loved her. I was bursting with warm and fuzzy after remembering all this detail last night, and I couldn't wait to tell L about it. His response? "I don't remember that at all." He really didn't, he had erased it all from his mind. I was galled. How dare he forget anything about our babies?

That is why moms are supposed to be the keepers of all childhood stories. Dads are supposed to choose three stories from their kid's childhood -- preferably involving bodily fluids and/or embarrassing moments -- and repeat those same stories for the rest of their life to whomever will listen. I forgive L for his forgetfulness. And I'll allow him to choose his own three stories.

Cutting the cord

I'm talking about phones, not babies. It's been about a month since L and I decided to drop our landline in favor of cell only. I always said I would never do it, but never say never.

Our cordless phone was dying a slow death, so we knew we'd need to replace it. At the same time, I needed a new cell phone because I hated my other one. It pained me to spend extra money just to have more phones that ring in the house, so we decided to go for it on the exclusive cell thing.

I thought it would be a big transition. Turns out, not at all. It's actually nice to have my "main" phone with me wherever I go. Then I don't have to worry that preschool might be trying to track me down or that I could be missing some other such hypothetical emergency.

The best result out of the switch is that L and I have discovered texting (I know, welcome to freakin' 2009). It was awesome during the holidays at family gatherings, L and I and L's brother doing running commentary under the radar amidst everyone. But it has been convenient in many other situations when talking out loud wasn't an option yet we needed to communicate.

I have had a couple etiquette struggles, though, so I need to make some rules for myself. I was at the library one day chatting with a woman I think is so cool, and my best friend was calling on my cell. That was a toughie -- I don't get to talk to either of them as much as I'd like, and there I was caught. I was able to find a way to transition each conversation and talk to both of them, and last I checked, they're both still speaking with me, so I guess it was all right.

The reason I thought I'd never drop the landline was safety. I wanted to have a phone available at all times to grab and dial 911 -- also that my kids could do the same. We do have phones, they're just not connected to the wall. We have set locations for the phones, and I'm teaching my kids our address since 911 doesn't auto-locate on cell phones (can you tell I used to work at the phone company?).

So now we're free of all phone constraints! And we pay less every month. Text me, and I'll tell you all about it!

Holding onto the baby

Peanut is getting to that stage where she's starting to shed some of her baby-ness in favor of little girl-ness. Not completely, mind you, but there are definitely shades of a more mature girl coming through all the baby sweetness these days. We won't be having any more kids, so I am feeling a bit wistful about nearing the end of my baby parenting days. There are definitely things I won't miss, but there are things I will.

So now that Peanut has come down with a pretty major cold this week, she's much more a baby than a little girl. Poor thing, she's a thumb sucker, and her little nose is so stuffy that she can't even get herself to sleep with her thumb because she can't breathe through her nose. So, L and I have spent a lot of time in her rocking chair soothing her and calming her down before bedtime and naptimes the past couple days. I hate that she's feeling crummy, but a small part of me has savored that quiet cuddle time. I know it won't be long before she'll be too old to be held at all, and she'll be back to her regular bedtime routine (which involves her declaring, "I want bed!" before any lengthy snuggling can occur) very soon once she's over this cold.

Because of Peanut's cold, she had to miss out on my playgroup's holiday party last night. L stayed home and cared for her. Although this is the giving season, we decided it would be best not to share her cold virus with all her friends. Jellybean and I went and had a really fun time, including the chance to make reindeer food, which was very cute. She and I came home at 6:45 to a quiet house and L relaxing on the couch. He had taken such perfect care of sick Peanut -- he gave her an early bath, knowing she was probably extra tired, and he put her down easily at 6:30. It's no wonder I love him so!

We are leaving this weekend for the holidays -- flying this year instead of our forever long energy-sapping drive. Hopefully this cold will have finished its inevitable rounds by then.