Mark and I had a very active Sunday. We got up very early so that we could get to the I-80 Flea Market in Tinley Park on time. The last time we went out there, we arrived around nine in the morning. Plenty early by my standards. Obviously Mark and I are not veteran flea marketeers and weren't aware of that flea market's protocol. They actually start packing up to go home at nine in the morning. If you haven't shown up by seven, you aren't a serious buyer. So we got there early and started roaming around. Mark quickly disappeared into the crowd while I scanned each vendor, not sure of what I was looking for. About twenty minutes later Mark showed up with a bag full of "things". He proudly boasted that he had purchased two posters.
"What of? What are the posters from?" I asked. Mark mumbled something, but the only thing I could make out was that they only cost two dollars. Well, such a bargain.
"Look what else I got." Mark perked up and pulled an antique seltzer bottle out of the bag. "The guy wanted thirty dollars. I got it for twenty five."
Mark seemed proud of his cunning, getting the guy to come down five dollars. But alas, with all his shopping prowess and know how, Mark does not know how to shop at a flea market. If I had found that bottle we would have had it for fifteen dollars. The man would have said, "Thirty dollars." I would have countered with, "I'll give you a quarter for that bottle." After which, a back and forth would ensue until we arrived at the price of fifteen dollars. That, is how a flea market works. And if as a seller, you are insulted by my lowball offer, you should not be there.
|It does look cool on the bar.|