Facebook Marketplace
I’ve entered the world of selling things on Facebook Marketplace. We’ve bought a house and have a garage to put things in, while we are still figuring out what works and what doesn’t in each room. It just seems like the natural progression of life in America. Also, I couldn’t fit the big furniture in my car to donate to Goodwill. Why not Marketplace? There’s the new friends, the goodness of humanity, the flakers, and the chatters.
I don’t think I’ve ever met so many strangers in one weekend before. There is something freeing in getting money instead of trying to stuff more into the house. There is something neighborly about setting low prices, so they are willing to drive over twenty minutes to pick up my old side table, where they probably spent more for gas than what they paid me.
Many people are queasy about giving out their home address. I get excited that someone new is coming over. If I have to go somewhere, or they are late, I just put it on the porch and tell them to leave the money in the mailbox.
I remember the first time I bought something on marketplace and they had me leave the money under the welcome mat. There was already over $50 there from other people who’d picked up other things. There is something so wholesome about humanity, expecting them to be honorable. And there is something rewarding about being reminded that most people aren’t out to get you, and actually do leave the money. No one has ever NOT left the money, or left the wrong amount. And I’ve been doing this for a whole weekend.
The person I thought couldn’t speak much English from how they wrote message had a white Kentucky accent, while the ones who didn’t speak English never gave any warning from their messages. I brought them out the rug and they just look confused until we finally, through hand gestures, realized they were here to buy the futon. They had just smiled and nodded when I asked if they were “Lucas.” Since I’ve used the smile and nod routine many times in Brazill, it made me laugh and love life a little more.
I loved the Asian family who smiled and nodded their way through buying my girls old training wheeled bicycle as I saw the wife and daughter wave excitedly from the car. That felt good. Anyone benefiting from our over-consumerism makes us Americans feel just a little bit better about all the waste.
And then there are the flakers. I had 5 people ask for the same thing and I replied to the first one, who said they for sure wanted it and would come at 5pm. I told the rest it was sold. That person never came at 5pm, and never replied again. In one weekend of selling, this is a solid 35% of the time. Should I tell two people yes and whoever gets here first wins? Why does that feel like cheating?
What about the chatters? Lots of messages. Lots of questions. Then after they say they are coming, they mention that they sure hope I am flexible on the price. Well…no. Selling on marketplace makes you realize all the things you need to buy. You aren’t selling, you are hoping you will break even. That’s how I met Stan. He was selling a bag. I asked if it would fit a keyboard- he said it was 62 inches. Plenty of room. He has me meet at the u-store where it is in storage. He gets around on a bike. He’s a storyteller. Talking faster than he walks, he informs me it is the anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s death. When Jerry died, Stan was drunk for 11 years. Then he got sober and started taking college classes instead of shots. “You look educated,” he says, “What about you?” Freud and Strauss were mentioned. He approved of my general education degree because “You follow where your curriculum (life) takes you.” I finally see the bag and it is 62 inches total. It won’t fit the keyboard. But now I like Stan. I pay him and go, happy with a world where you can meet strangers and connect, even if you don’t get what you are looking for. That is the kind of world I choose to live in.