My nana had this great painted black lacquer jewelry box. When I was a kid, I thought it was so beautiful and elegant and this was the type of thing that classy adults had. For this reason, if I see one at a flea market I. Must. Have. It.
We are walking down the street in Frederick. There in the window, I see a lovely one with cranes and golden branches. In the hospital thrift shop window. Did you hear me squeal with delight? I'll bet you heard something. I go in. "I'd like to see that black lacquer jewelry box in the front window, please." Older lady gives me a look. "We can't sell that yet." Excuse me? "The items in the window aren't for sale?" I ask. "Not yet." Okay, I'm confused. She tries to explain to me, because, clearly, I am an idiot. "If we sold everything in the front window, well, then we wouldn't have anything to put on display." Of course. "So, I can't buy anything in the front window?" I am clearly trying her patience. I may be one of the dumbest people she has ever met.
It will be for sale, in a few weeks. Ah. Obviously. I can look at the list, but I can't touch it or buy it now. This is an unusual business model.
Of course, I am completely pissed off, but that damn box, it's haunting me. Yeah, I'll probably bust on up to buy it, but I'll be annoyed! Yeah, that'll show 'em.
1 comment:
Let's start a bidding war for that box. Then, everyone retracts the bids. The volunteers are disappointed. What will we do now? they wonder -- a sure sale gone.
You step in, get the box for 50 cents.
Done deal.
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