I was having a garage sale. This was stuff that probably even a thrift store would not want, just junk I had around for too many years. I had stuff on tables and in boxes with essentially giveaway prices: a twenty-five-cent table, boxes of ten-cent stuff, even boxes of free stuff, and very few things like hardback books for fifty cents or a dollar. Most people just scanned the junk and left. One woman came and spent quite a long time looking at various items. I saw her pick up a bud vase from the twenty-five-cent table and turn her back to me. I figured she was just going to pocket the item. I really didn’t care.

She came up to me and held out the bud vase.

Customer: “I guess this will be all. It’s a good bargain for only a nickel.”

Me: “Hmm, I don’t have anything for a nickel. I had that on the twenty-five-cent table.”

Customer: *Immediately in a rage* “What? This has a sticker on it that says five cents!”

She shows me the bottom of the vase with an orange printed five-cent sticker which I’ve never used.

Me: *Just because* “Oh, I watched you put that sticker on it to try to cheat me, so I’ve decided to just keep the vase and not sell it to you.”

Customer: *Screaming* “I did no such thing! You’re just trying to make me pay more because I’m [Nationality]!”

This may or may not be the case; I can’t tell if she is or not. She grabs the bud vase and literally runs to her car and speeds off, not even giving me the nickel or the quarter, just stealing it.

Me: *Thinking* “Really, for a quarter?”

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We are about to move house, so we are selling anything we don’t want to take with us. There are a lot of children’s things that our kids have outgrown and are pretty bulky, so we want to get rid of them quickly.

Everything is clean, in good condition, and really cheap, so some items go within the hour. Others have lots of interest but just need transport arranged, etc.

One woman messages me on a few items.

Customer: “Are they available?”

Me: “Yes, they are!”

I don’t hear from her again. I get rid of pretty much everything that day, and after a few days, the items nobody wants go to the charity shop.

A whole week later, the customer from before contacts me again.

Customer: “I will collect them tomorrow and will only pay what you’re asking if they are in excellent condition.”

Me: “Well, there has been a lot of interest and nearly everything has gone. But as it happens, someone let me down on the last item and I am available tomorrow.”

Again, I hear nothing back until later that night, and it’s a one-word reply.

Customer: “Okay.”

I’m not too thrilled with her demanding attitude. At this point, she doesn’t know where I live nor have I actually agreed to sell to her, so I don’t feel like chasing her. Around lunchtime the next day, I get a message.

Customer: “I’m free now; I can collect [item].”

Me: “That’s fine. My address is [address]. How long do you think you will be? I am working from home, so I’m pretty busy.”

I get nothing back. An hour later, I see a car pull up; a woman in her early forties with nice clothes, designer handbag, etc., gets out. She strides up to the door and bangs very hard, ignoring the doorbell.

Me: “Hello?”

Customer: “I’m here for the baby bouncer.”

Me: “Yes, I—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “Is it clean? It should be clean if you are selling it.”

As I’m bringing it to the door:

Me: “Yes, it’s clean and disinfected. The lights, sounds, and movement all work fine. No damage or marks. It’s pretty much brand new and I have the box and receipts.”

She looks almost disappointed.

Customer: “Well, I, err… I can only pay you £20.”

Me: “It was £160 new; the advert was £30, no offers.”

Customer: *Smirking* “I will leave it, then.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Bye, thanks for coming!”

With that, I closed the door on her. She stood at the door motionless for a while before getting back in her car, looking shocked that her ploy didn’t work. 

I ended up taking the bouncer with us after we moved — couldn’t donate it without a fire tag — and sold it to a very grateful new mum near the new house.

About that time, we ended up selling a load of furniture after we moved. That customer commented on most of them, as well, even telling other commenters that they were sold when they weren’t.

I blocked her, but not before letting her know that I don’t sell to time wasters.

Related:
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 14
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 13
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 12
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 11
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 10

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My grandmother passed away. She was a bit of a packrat, so after going through her house for the valuable and sentimental pieces, we put the rest up for sale.

It’s an enormous garage sale that covers every room in the house, save one: the bathroom. My aunt — who is part owner of the house now along with my father — wisely locks the bathroom. We are all from out of town, so we lock our stuff in there during the day so people won’t go through our bags or use our toilet.

The sale is from Thursday until Saturday. These two encounters occur with my aunt, not known for her sweet nature.

Customer #1: “Can I use the restroom?”

Aunt: “No, I’m afraid it’s locked.”

Customer #1: “But it’s an emergency! Can’t you let me use your bathroom?”

My aunt observes the customer is not bleeding nor dancing around and there are public stores and fast food joints a few streets over.

Aunt: “No.”

Customer #1: “Well, where are you going to the bathroom?”

Aunt: “In the bathroom.”

Customer #1: “Why can you use it and not me?”

Aunt: “Because it’s my house!”

Another encounter: the local church is going to pick up the rest of the stuff for their charity sale, but that isn’t until Monday. People called the house yesterday asking if the sale was continuing, but my aunt always said no. Lo and behold, on Sunday morning, a car pulls into the driveway. By now, most of my family has left so it’s just my aunt and my mother. 

Aunt: “Hi, can I help you?”

Customer #2: “Is this the yard sale?”

Aunt: “It was, but it’s over now.”

Customer #2: “What? But the paper said you were open on Sunday!”

Aunt: “No, it didn’t. It said until Saturday.”

Customer #2: “Can I look, though?”

Aunt: “No, we don’t have enough people and our cash register is gone.”

Customer #2: “This isn’t fair! I called and spoke to someone here. They said you were open today!”

Aunt: “Lady, you spoke with me and I told you Saturday! Now leave!”

As a retail employee myself, I can honestly say my aunt is not cut out for it.

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(I am at a car-boot sale and am waiting behind an obviously Muslim lady who is going through a box of jewelry at one stall. She picks up a piece of costume jewelry.)

Lady: “Excuse me. How much is this, please?”

Stall Holder: *rudely* “$10.”

Lady: “Oh, it’s a bit much; can you make it a bit cheaper?”

Stall Holder: “Nope, $10.”

(The lady leaves and I pick up a couple of items that have caught my eye.)

Stall Holder: *sweetly, but loud enough for the other lady to still hear* ” “For you, fifty-cents each.”

(I handed over the $1. It was only later I realised what had happened. The stall holder had tried to rip off the other lady on a piece of junk jewelry, but had actually ripped herself off because later, I found out that the items she sold me were worth almost $200.)

(I help my parents put on a yard sale. Most of the morning goes without problem and we are pretty busy. Around noon, a dumpy old car pulls up. The lady that steps out is one of those “the world revolves around me” types — very fake tan, way too much makeup, latte in hand, and very over-the-top, loud clothes. I’m sitting in front of my house in the shade and she stomps right up to me, shoving other shoppers out of the way. She grabs a box near me, dumps out its contents, and shoves it into my arms.)

Customer: “Follow me around and keep track of what I take.”

(I’m a really quiet person, so I just stand and start following her. The box is very large, maybe two feet long, wide, and tall. She starts tossing junk into the box and I’m frantically trying to keep track of what she’s getting. This goes on for ten minutes. After she fills two large boxes, she whirls around to me.)

Customer: “I’ll give you $5 for all this junk.”

Me: *surprised* “Ma’am, I kept track as you asked me to, and the total is closer to $30. And I’m rounding down.”

(She tries to haggle with me for a while, but eventually, she stomps off to her car to loudly demand money from her driver. She stomps back to me and shoves the money in my face. As she’s doing so, she looks at my necklace.)

Customer: “Darling, I love your necklace.”

(She then reaches for it and tries to take it off my neck. Naturally, I back away, confused.)

Customer: “Darling, I said I love your necklace. That means I want it.”

(She tried again to snatch it. When I backed away again, she started trying to bribe me, but it was my favorite necklace so that wasn’t going to happen. After a while, she gave up and I helped her put her boxes in her car. As soon as she got in and the car started to drive away, she rolled down her window and made eye contact with me. I thought she was going to say thank you or goodbye, but no. She tossed her half-full latte out the window into my driveway. It splattered everywhere and they drove away. As if that wasn’t bad enough, when I went to count the money she had shoved at me, it was only $20 and not the $30 I had asked for.)

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