Going, Going, Gone

Tonight Jeff and I attended an auction. The only thing this activity has to do with food is the fact that we were hungry the entire time. It started at 6:30 and we rolled in at 6:35 unaware of the order, rooms, and protocol associated with such an event. Being late wasn't a problem, but because we grew up in the era that being early means you're on time, we felt we didn't have time to eat anything before the auction, especially since we dropped our son off at a friend's house and made a pit-stop at the bank along the way. (The auction house requires a cash deposit to get a bidding paddle.)

Our adventure began when we arrived to the sound of an auctioneer buzzing along with the stereotypical jabber of yesteryear. This is particularly interesting because when I see auctions on television shows like Cash in the Attic, the people in charge never sound this way. The loudspeaker also supplied us with the auctioneer's explanation of the rules of the game. "Be careful," he cautioned the crowd. "This is the only place you could fan yourself and wind up paying for it." In reality, the bidding wasn't that touchy. It required a definitive hand signal or raising of the bidding paddle.

However, bidding is thrilling - even when the item is old and cheap with a price to match. I should know because I bought a French provincial desk for $10. Of course, a 10 percent buyer's fee is added along with sales tax, so I actually spent $11 and change. The desk is the same style furniture I always loved as a child. I always associate fairy princesses with this kind of furniture complete with billowing canopies made from pink chiffon parading over the bed like cotton candy clouds. Never mind the fact that this particular examples needs to have a few screws tightened and some wood glue applied to one side. Why, you may ask, would I buy such a thing. Honestly, it has potential. I plan to take my hand sander to it, prime it, paint it, decorate it, and make it into something interesting while experimenting with what I might do to my kitchen cabinets. This cheapy little desk represents the fun of the auction - seeing what something could be and figuring how much (or how little) to pay for it. (We saw a solid-wood queen-sized bedroom set - headboard, bed frame, chest of drawers, night stand, and dresser go for $250.)

While I only came home with my little treasure desk, we went to the auction to bid on a china cabinet. Unfortunately, the one I fell in love with was part of a set with a table and chairs. Jeff and I examined all the pieces and decided we could pay up to $500 just to get the china cabinet, but as an added bonus we could refinish the eight wooden chairs as well. (We thought we might just ask them to resell the table for the few dollars we'd probably get off of it.) The trouble is, the auction runs in "rooms" which means they have items sorted by value in four different areas with the china cabinet in the most expensive of these. We weren't worried we couldn't afford it, but it did take quite a while to get to the item we wanted - nearly three hours, to be exact. By the time the action reached the dining furniture, I was tired, hungry, and not nearly as enamored with the bidding process. In addition, I had my heart set on that cabinet and eight chairs, so I was taken aback when the auctioneer called the set as a china cabinet, table, and four chairs. "Aren't there eight chairs?" I asked - apparently breaking some unwritten rule that bidders aren't allowed to speak to the auctioneer since everyone stared at me in disbelief. "Yes," came the rather snarky reply, "but we're selling the set with four." Now, this thoroughly ticked me off. I had already decided (in my mind) that those chairs belonged to me - all eight of them. My discomfiture at this set back kept me from bidding at all, even though we could have won the day with a bid of $500, since the set went for $475. I just couldn't bring myself to bid on four chairs when I had expected eight. In retrospect, we should have bid the $500 and had the auction house resell the table with the four chairs on another day. (By the way, the other chairs were sold separately. Go figure.) Alas, indecision cost me the cabinet. I was crestfallen, so we paid for our Charlie Brown desk and headed home.

All in all, we learned a lot about auctions and timing. Though we didn't bring home the object of my affections, I shouldn't complain. I do have a nostalgic 1970's desk with curvy lines and girly flourishes sitting in my garage waiting to be polished up and given a new home. My mind is already picturing the possibilities and convincing itself that all those papers in my briefcase don't actually have to be graded this weekend.