The private ad posted on Facebook was rather vague: “Love seat. $50.”
Other than a photo, that was it. No further description. No history. No age given or whether the love seat was male or female. (For the record, it had a lovely lilac shade and fancy stitching, so I assumed it was female.)
I had questions, darn it! I needed answers before I was going to start a relationship with a piece of furniture I’ve never met. Can you blame me? People are duped all the time by Russian loveseat scams on social media. Not me. I’m not some Johnny-come-lately who flirts with just any old piece of furniture. I have standards!
So I typed a few question under the Facebook post:
“Is there any love left in the seat?”
(After all, who wants a bitter, used up piece of furniture that spews hatred and anger all the time.)
“Is that photo a true representation of the love seat?”
(Was the photo taken in the morning when it was fresh? Or at the end of the day after dozens of butts have sat on it?)
“Has the dog ever peed on it?”
(That’s an important question because if the answer is “yes,” it will ultimately affect the final price. It will take at least $50 in vinegar to get the pee smell out of the cushions. Don’t ask me how I know this.)
While I was waiting for a response to my questions, I started thinking about creating a Facebook page of my own. I’d call it “Crap for sale that nobody wants.” Come on, you know you’d click on the “Follow” button and visit it three or four times a day. Why? Because you can’t help yourselves. It’s like driving past a grisly car accident and being unable to look away.
What kind of stuff would I sell on such a Facebook page?
A used pair of gym shorts. That gray, fuzzy stuff from the dryer’s lint collector. A love seat that was peed on by a dog (free dog included!).
Best thing is, people will drive an hour to pick this stuff up!
I’ve seen some weird items for sale on Facebook.
“Halloween candy. $4 for the whole batch. No chocolate, just the crappy stuff the kids left in the bottom of the bag.”
“Box of unused condoms. $10. Expired only 10 months! Probably still good. Personally used hundreds of these and I can attest that none of my girlfriends became pregnant.”
“Leftover chicken curry. $2. Still in to-go box. Customer left behind by accident.”
“Tanning bed. Free! One owner. Selling after getting skin cancer.”
“Fresh farts. $1 each. Individually sealed in Ziploc baggies. Perfect for practical jokes or Father’s Day gift.”
One of the best parts about selling things on Facebook is the haggling.
I saw this Facebook post: “Bath & Body Works Warm Vanilla Body Cream. Bottle is more than half full. Original price: $12. Will sacrifice for $8.”
The first written response was, “Will you take $5 and a slightly used tube of toothpaste?”
The second response was, “Will you take $3 and some left over curry chicken? I’m willing to drive 5 hours from Portland!”
Why don’t we ever see cool things for sale on Facebook?
Like an inflatable bounce house. I love those things! Forget about trying to sell me that Exer-cycle 2000. A bouncy house? Heck yeah! I could jump in one of those things all day. It’s great cardio!
Bounce houses are a great way to get more friends, too. Complete strangers driving down the street will pull right over at your house if you have one. Sometimes they have beer!
But I never see inflatable bounce houses for sale on Facebook. I guess I could always rent one, but prices keep going up every year. That’s inflation for you.
So, back to the love seat. It was 2 a.m. when I finally got a response to my questions.
The seller simply wrote: “Weirdo” and deleted the post a minute later.
That’s okay. I spotted another post: “Couch. $90.”
Other than a photo, that was it. No further description. No history.
Of course I had questions. I have standards!
I responded, “Will you take $50 and a dog that pees on the couch?”
The seller wrote, “Sure! I live on Fifth Street. My house is the one with a bounce house in the yard. Bring beer!”
Scott Graves was editor of the Curry Coastal Pilot from September 2000 to November 2017. He can be reached by calling 541-469-3123 or firstname.lastname@example.org