Whenever I turn up at a garage sale and encounter a raft of assorted used (and new) items strewn about a front lawn, I am inclined to quip:
"Where's the garage?"
Yeah, the joke usually falls flat!
Bright and early this morning, there was something more sinister going down on Orlando Street, though.
As I headed out for coffee and the morning daily at the crack of dawn, I spied a large moving truck - and at least two workers - unloading a myriad of household goods, antiques, and brick-a-brack on a lawn just below Waring Street.
Curious, that!
Instead of marching the goodies straight inside out of harm's way, the gentlemen started to place the items in an eye-catching strategic fashion around the dewy ground.
So, I sauntered over to investigate on the down-low.
Quite a few of the items were of fair quality and gave off the impression of having been "hand picked" for the "yard" sale.
But, the truth really rang home when I overheard a couple of the "handlers" chatting among themselves on the sidelines.
"I gave him a couple of items on commission. He sold the stuff right away, but it took a while to get my money."
"He has some good stuff at that location," the other idly responded.
Clearly, they were talking "shop".
It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks.
None of the items were cherished keepsakes being offered up for sale, at all.
The whole shebang was shipped in under the cover of darkness that morning - from a handful of second-hand stores and antique shops around town - with the ultimate aim of rustling up a tidy profit in sales in West Hollywood.
I expect the organizers made an agreement with the owner of the house to fork over a percentage of sales in exchange for allowing 'em to facilitate that prime neighborhood location for the weekend event.
Later, when I dashed off to do chores, I even spied hand-crafted signs alerting passers-by and motorists about the "garage sale".
Clever!
The script was in a casual scrawl - and gave off the impression the sign was crafted by a desperate housewife anxious to make-ends-meet - or in the alternative a struggling student looking to unload some unwanted household effects for a fast buck at Christmas.
Gee, what a deception!
Judging from the prices I overheard quoted to the carpetbaggers who spilled out of their cars on the turn-of-a-dime, there weren't many bargains to be had, either.
When one dude scooped up about four books and queried about the price, he fell back a little in amazement when the response zinged back at him.
$30.00.
At yard sales, paperbacks and used books normally go for fifty cents or a buck each. Unless they are adorned with lush color plates inside or fall under the category of specialty books.
Even still, the price quoted appeared a tad steep under the circumstances.
I wonder if the neighbors on the street were clued in about the thriving enterprise underway on their tony residential street?
Surely, the IRS would perk up, if they knew that sale items were being sold - in an organized business venture - without receipts or taxes paid - don't 'ya think?
What will greedy scoundrels think of next?
No comments:
Post a Comment