Last week my friend Crystal introduced me to the world of live auctions. On a Tuesday afternoon, we entered a warehouse, where she walked up to the ticket counter with authority and picked up her bidding number. I picked up my number with a little more hesitation. Number 152? There were a lot of people, all trying to pick through the same stuff. This could be interesting.
Having never been to a live auction before, I intended to spend the entire time observing and noting the prices of items I might have been interested in. Yes, I planned to be a chicken. Life on the sidelines is safe – or so you would think – but I quickly realized there’s no safe place at an auction. What if I sneezed and accidentally bid on a $300 item that I had no use for? What if I wasn’t paying close enough attention and I bid really high when I thought the numbers were still low?
While I was over thinking things, Crystal’s right arm was getting a work out, flashing number 151 all over the place. If the price got to high, she would shake her head like a pro when the auctioneer looked in her direction. Often when she won items, the auctioneer would look her dead in the eye and say, “SOLD.” She grinned from ear to ear. This was not Crystal’s first auction.
I felt like I was still finding my footing while my fists were clenched pretty tight around my cash. I was in the wrong place to not be in a spending mood, but I was content taking mental notes for next time.
We moved around the auction house for the big-ticket items, like large furniture and an industrial ice cream maker, but when it came time for the smaller household items, everyone gathered in the available seating area. I started to zone out a bit in the third row, still careful to never lift my arms over my head.
That’s when it happened. The auctioneer looked in my direction – either at me or through me, I couldn’t really tell.
“You almost owned that,” he barked.
I have no idea what “it” was and I can only assume that he was looking at me. What he said next confirmed all of the fears that I had accumulated in the previous two hours.
“Any movement above the waist people…fair game.”
I knew it!
I sat on my hands.
I was like a squirmy toddler in church. You know you should not move, make noise or even itch your forehead, but that’s all I could think about.
“Well put your head down and itch your forehead,” Crystal whispered.
Good idea. Ah, sweet relief.
The low buzz through the hall of people chattering got to be too much for the auctioneer’s right hand as she hissed, “Shhhh!” a number of times throughout the three hours of bidding.
Then a funny thing happened: I became comfortable. (It just takes me a little while to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings.) I looked at Crystal’s fabulous pile of loot and I began making plans for the next auction outing. I will be much more willing to spend my hard earned cash now that I know how this entire process works.
I’m going to have to find a truck for next week.
Well done! “This was not Crystal’s first auction.” elicited a bark of laughter. :-)