The ballad of "Be Nice to Me or I'll Take Your Signs Down!"

You may have gotten the impression that everything is buddy-buddy-oaky-dokey-honky-dory between antiques pickers and sellers - the simple fact is, nothing could be further from the truth. There is a constant battle being waged underground, beneath all the smiles and hello's & thank-you's, and the following story serves to illustrate that point.

Many, if not most pickers who earn their living off garage and estate sales tend to resent the professionally organized sale, and, to a lesser or greater extent, those of us who organize them. And, for those who REALLY resent us, the ultimate weapon is the ability to knock down the street-level signage so important in directing the public to our sales. So lethal to our clients' revenue is this attack that some sale organizers actually chain their signs to posts, and in my case, my staff is instructed that, no matter how rude or intimidating a picker might be, they are always treated courteously, with a smile, and, when necessary (and most often when not) with apologies.

Nevertheless, you can NEVER please everyone, and that is where this story begins.

Once upon a time Timothy Loughmiller Estate Solutions was contracted to do a sale in a nice little semi-detached home. It was a nice clean home full of nice clean treasures, but also fitted with nice clean brand-new floors which my client didn't want damaged. So, for that sale, we asked that everyone remove their shoes (something I don't normally do) and advertised the request plainly.

Needless to say there was one or two grumbles, but everyone complied willingly, anxious to purchase the treasures within. I say everyone with the notable exception of one lone foul-mouthed picker, a man I'd never seen before, of whom it later became obvious that he could hold a mean grudge.

"Why the H--- do I need to take off my D--- shoes? he demanded as he blocked the door, raising the eyebrows of those trying to enter past his substantial girth. "Is this place so D--- special?"

I replied as calmly and plainly as I could (without any H's and D's) that it wasn't MY idea, adding that my client made the rules. That's when he became even more hostile after learning that the sale was professionally organized (my guess is that he then realized he was wasting his time, with no chance to get something for nothing). Anyway, after about 50 people squeezed past him, curteously depositing their shoes by the door, he relented, discarded his worn loafers, and entered.

I thought that was the end of it... how wrong I was THAT day.

The next thing I knew, he was shoving his way out the door, cursing my cashier, cursing the sale, cursing me, cursing whatever he might have deemed to have offended his dignity. I just looked at my cashier, who was standing there staring shell-shocked, shrugged, and guessed about what would happen next. I thought that I knew EXACTLY what was coming, but I couldn't have guessed as to the extent to which it would be escalated.

Retrieving MY shoes I located my car keys and took a little drive. Sure enough, I was in time to see him kick over one of my steel-framed signs. Stopping to pick it up and set it right, I followed his route and recovered five more signs from where they'd been kicked over, ripped down, or thrown into trash cans.

At that point I was beginning to get mad - but no real point to that, so I simply reset all the signs and returned to the sale.

A bit later on, looking out from the sale, I was shocked when I thought I saw his car drive by (perhaps on his way back from his anger management class). Repeating my drive of earlier that day, sure enough, he'd taken down more signs, some of which I could no longer find. Lucky for me I had spares, and was able to replace the missing signage.

Twice more this happened that day before he tired of the game, and twice more I reset the signs - extra work for me, but we depend heavily on our signage and I had no choice.

But, at the end of it all we had a great sale (despite the permanent loss of 10 signs), everyone else was nice, and I made new friends as I often do - of course, I tend to think they only like me for the stuff I sell them, but hey, that's okay, it's what I do.

As for Mr. Curse-a-lot, we haven't seen him since... but we're ready for him with courtesy, smiles and apologies (whether deserved or not, whether they help or not) and, oh, yes, with LOTS of extra signs!

The Fabulous G2

Last season Timothy Loughmiller Estate Solutions was contracted to host a sale in a nice little Oakville backsplit house. It was a nice sale with Mid Century furniture and accessories, and did very well. During my interview with the client, she informed me that her father's old broken stereo was in the basement, and that it didn't work well, and, that if it didn't sell, I could just place it at the curb. I examined the stereo, assured her I was certain I could sell it, and not to worry.

On the day of the sale people were lined up at the door to buy the stereo, one lady even flew in from Montreal and took a cab to the sale. The first person in line for the stereo bought the "old, broken stereo", sight unseen, later sending a friend to pick it up.

After the sale, when I told my client the stereo had sold, she was indeed surprised. But, when I told her how much I had gotten for her dad's "old, broken stereo" her face went pale and I thought she was going to faint. Little did she realize the gem she had in the basement, for, it was one of the famous Canadian-made Clairtone G2 stereos from the 1960's (endorsed at the time by none other than Old Blue Eyes Frank Sinatra himself), and worth thousands of dollars - and that's exactly what I sold it for, thousands of dollars.

Just to think, without my help, she would've placed it at the curb - what a garbage find that would've been!

Black Thumb Syndrome

When Timothy Loughmiller Estate Solutions hosts an estate sale, we price EVERY OBJECT, unlike many companies that run sales. Pricing everything is a laborious, time-consuming process (which is why many don't attend to this detail) but it's VERY important to do.

To speed the process up, often we will write the price right on some objects (mostly glass and metal items) with a felt-tip marker - one, it's quick, and two, it doesn't damage the item because it wipes right off again with your thumb - which brings us to the topic of this story.

Occasionally (but more often than we'd like) a customer will bring an unpriced item to the cashout, hoping to literally get a steal of a deal. I say unpriced, but recall that earlier I stated that we price EVERYTHING. So, what happened to the price?

Now, I won't say that anything untoward is afoot, however, a cursory examination of the customer's hands will reveal that, yes, the dreaded "Black Thumb" syndrome has yet again affected another unfortunate buyer.

I say unfortunate because there is only one cure for this dread disease - the automatic doubling of what the price would have been before it mysteriously vanished (five dollars becomes ten, ten dollars becomes twenty, and so on). Many times the stricken individual will resist treatment, and sometimes, astonishingly, they will blurt out "but it said such-and-such price before!" (how could they know?).

Fortunately, though, once a particular customer is so treated, they seldom experience a recurrence of (drum roll please) the dreaded Black Thumb Syndrome!

Let's hope it never affects YOU!

Hoarder's House of Dolls

Last summer my company was contracted to sell the contents of a collector's home - or, more accurately, to liquidate a hoarder's house.

By the time I'd arrived on the scene, the family had already emptied the main floor, making my job simpler, right? WRONG! The main floor may have been empty, but the basement certainly wasn't, and that's where the fun began.

For three weeks we painfully dug through the 2,000 square-foot basement, sometimes sleeping there, gradually bringing upstairs the treasures(?) from the depths of the basement. By the time we were done we'd completely filled the upstairs, and still had a basement full of stuff - essentially two floors stuffed with articles for sale. It was scary.

A partial list included a half-dozen polka accordians, twelve short-wave radios, 1,000 articles of clothing, 250 cameras, roughly 400 pieces of china, 3,000 LP records, 2,000 books, 100 pairs of shoes, dozens of power tools many still in boxes, 150 square feet of Christmas decorations, eight typewriters, ten movie projectors, 200 VHS tapes, a dozen wool carpets, dozens of lamps, six telescopes, and, of course, over 300 dolls.

We had a kitchen sink to sell, and the Christmas decorations even included a partridge in a pear tree!

It took three days of continuous selling to make a dent in all of this, and buyers would buy, go away, come back, buy more, go away again, then come back for more. They'd fill boxes with stuff, take it home, and bring the empty boxes back to fill over and over again - we came to know everyone by name.

"100,000 Items for Sale!" our newspaper ads proudly proclaimed, making us a local sensation for a week, and a legend for a month or more. We sold and sold and sold. Through all of this, we had only one complaint, that coming from some sharp-eyed customer who coyly quipped "There's no way there's 100,000 items for sale in here! It's more like 300,000!"

Hmmm. No wonder I was tired!

My Life Inside Estate Sales

For 20 years I've been active in the field of Estate Sales, Antiques and Collectibles. Over the past two decades I've accumulated a number of stories from Inside the World of Estate Sales, many funny, some sad, but all entertaining and revealing. I hope through this blog to reveal many of those inside stories, as well as general observations and wisdoms from both inside and outside of the business of hosting estate sales through my business Timothy Loughmiller Estate Solutions