In a misguided attempt to sell my mom’s things after her death, I joined Facebook Marketplace.
I thought, “Everybody’s on Marketplace, and maybe I can earn a buck instead of just throwing everything into a dumpster and setting it on fire.”
Which is exactly what I should’ve done. The one motto I’ve stuck to from earliest childhood is, “Don’t do what everybody else is doing.” That goes for teams, clubs, groups, websites, and staring at an eclipse.
But the lure of easy money was too hard to resist.
I blame my new addiction on somebody I actually met on Facebook Marketplace.
I wanted to get an almost new TV out of the way and she was my first customer, a truly wonderful human being. But like all addicts, she couldn’t stop herself from encouraging others to also become addicts.
Whipping through my mom’s freezing cold house like a beagle hunting a rabbit, she said, “You know, if you’re not in too big of a hurry, you can make money from all of this.”
She came for the TV and grabbed a coffee table on her way out. One of the legs broke off in her hand. She was ecstatic.
“THIS IS GOING TO LOOK GREAT IN THE BOYS’ ROOM!”
And so, almost before I knew it, I was snapping pictures of everything not nailed down and putting it on Marketplace for ridiculously low prices, thinking it would be easier on me to get rid of everything slowly.
Boy, was I wrong.
But that doesn’t matter because I still had to sort and sift through a lifetime of old checks, letters, receipts, pictures, and treasured belongings that sidetracked my best efforts at efficiency and ate up all of my time with a black, bottomless mouth.
In the process, I was forced to interact with people. And since I’m still processing my loss and am literally desperate for conversation, I can come across as a little bit of a serial killer.
“Oh, you collect glass?” I chirped at the elderly couple who drove from two counties away for a TV stand. “Come on in! I’ve got a ton of — ”
“No!” the woman cut me off as her husband wrestled the stand into the back of their car. “We’ve got to get going. Thanks!”
They were gone in less than three minutes and I was $20 richer, but I was desolate that I was again standing alone in a driveway.
I sold my mom’s china cabinet to a woman who sent her aunt, uncle, niece, and nephew to come get it from, again, another county, using a county government pickup truck that apparently served many non-governmental purposes.
I discovered that the woman buying the cabinet and a large quantity of decorative china plates from me was adding to her already overly large collection of decorative china plates, which she used for “crafts” that never got sold, further crowding her small house.
I was aiding and abetting a hoarder.
I got to know that little family alarmingly well in the space of 30 minutes while the aunt and I stood in the garage and armchair-quarterbacked how the cabinet should be placed in the back of the truck by the uncle and nephew.
But like prostitution, Facebook Marketplace is where people like to conduct short, meaningless transactions that benefit both parties.
The seller gains monetarily, and the purchaser experiences a kind of release. The relentless urge to spend and acquire is satisfied for a few moments.
Also like prostitution, these transactions often occur on the spur of the moment. When I post something on my page, I usually get a response along the lines of, “I can be there is 15 minutes.”
This is seriously disrupting my life and I’ve scaled back a little bit. I still have somebody coming next week from 40 miles away for six plates.
Six plates.
I sold an ancient baby scale ($5) that’s going to be used to weigh baby goats for a 4-H project.
I sold a lawn mower ($50) that was picked up within the hour by a kid with his arm in a cast who didn’t really think about how much space his partner and child were taking up in his small SUV. We somehow managed.
I sold a different TV stand ($10) to an older woman who ALSO, despite having been given the dimensions, didn’t really think through how we were going to get it into her car.
The gasket on her door took a beating, but again, we managed. And she also took a very old, ugly lamp ($0). Win-win.
I sold an extremely heavy cedar chest ($50) to a married couple whom I warned several time would need a dolly to get it down the stairs. Instead, the husband deadlifted it and carried it out to their trailer, somehow without having a heart attack, popping a vertebra, or punching a hole in the drywall.
I then led them to my house so that the wife, a true-crime fanatic, could slowly drive by Mr. Dahmer’s house ($450,000), and then they bought a rusty oil lamp ($20) I had in my basement.
In the world’s weirdest drug deal, I sold a 100% pure, uncut, pharmaceutical-grade mailbox by leaving it on my front porch with a Ziploc baggie for the cash. When I came home, the mailbox was gone and I had a dry, $10 bill.
Sometimes though, the Marketplacers get on my nerves.
I mean, if you have allergies or something, maybe don’t buy used clothing from strangers on the internet.
Just a thought.
I actually had to do this when my parents moved to assisted living. Fortunately I found a small firm run be two local ladies who offered their services in clearing out a house. For 30% of the take they came in, priced everything, gave us a chance for a last look, and then had an estate sale. Whatever didn't sell was relocated to the garage, and they had it donate or hauled off. As for funerals, I plan to go on a Tuesday. That's our trash pickup day, and I think I'll fit into the bin. Then I can make my final journey accompanied by orange peels and coffee grounds.
You're a braver woman than I. My mom's house sold last week. The buyers said that we could leave anything that we didn't want to take with us, so my sister and I plundered the house and left the rest. I'm waiting to read a headline someday "Rare ceramic thingamabob discovered in new homeowners' attic and sold for 100k!"