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A passion to make junk 'feel' wanted

Would you like to buy a prosthetic human eye (colour: blue)? Or a Lord and Lady title? Or what about a Manolo Blahnik Habitat VIP shoehorn? Or, given the medical theme here, what about Smiley Hospital Nurse Car Aerial Ball Antenna Topper? Well? Any takers? I’m not selling these items, you understand, but... I know a place that is.

I’m terrified of eBay. For as long as I’ve known about it, I’ve diligently stayed away from it because I’m afraid I’ll behave like I behave at traditional auctions. I have only just managed to rid myself of the various lots of rubbish I’ve bought over the years.
There is, for me, just something irresistible about an auction and I have learned that I just mustn’t go there. I’m a disaster. I promise myself that I’ll sit on my hands and buy nothing but I never manage to do that. I’ll invariably come away with a box of rubbish, convinced that the treasure of the Sierra Madre is contained within.

I have this fantasy of seeing myself on the Antiques Roadshow with all the experts oohing and aahing over my wonderful item and me telling them that I bought it at an auction for a few quid. Then Sotheby’s or Christies will be beating my door down inviting me to sell this wonderful item (I still don’t know what it is... maybe a clock, or a painting) and I’ll be in clover for the rest of my days. Quite a nice little dream really. But, thus far, very much a dream.

Like a superhero

Reality is different. I’ve bought some truly dreadful rubbish at auctions. Bits of furniture that didn’t even make decent kindling; paintings that, on closer inspection, you could see the paint-by-numbers numbers underneath; cracked pots; broken toys; “gold” jewellery.

All common sense and logic deserts me when I enter the auction rooms and I get swept along in the tide of bidding and competition. And, totally illogically, I’ll bid for things I feel sorry for– that’s how I end up with the broken toys and such. I hate the thoughts of them “feeling” unloved and unwanted.

I feel like a superhero when I liberate them. Mind you, the feeling of omnipotence diminishes as soon as I get the rubbish into the car. By the time I get home, I feel like the mug that I am. I should take out some sort of restraining order on myself that makes it illegal for me to go to auctions.

Terrified by eBay

So that’s why eBay terrifies me. I’d always sworn to myself that I’d never go near it. But, just before Christmas, I had to. Every year, the greater Cox family congregates on Christmas Day and, rather than everyone buying everyone else socks and hankies, we operate a Kris Kindle system with an upper limit of €30.

I drew a football-loving brother-in-law and, for once, I knew exactly what to get him. He’s a big George Best fan so I reckoned I’d get him one of the commemorative fivers issued by the Ulster Bank in November. (And maybe socks as well. Even allowing for Sterling conversion, I don’t want to appear to be a skinflint.)

Liberating a fiver

As anyone who knows anything about these things would have known, easier said than done. I rang the Ulster Bank head office and they couldn’t help. “Ha, Ha, Ha. Not a hope”, I think were the exact words. They reckoned the million notes that were issued will never go into circulation. Purely collectors’ items.

Then I rang a few mates in Border areas. “Nope.” “Sorry.” “Can’t help.” “Er... why don’t you just get him socks?” At that stage, I refused to give up. So I logged on to eBay and there was the object of my desire. At that stage, it was €14. I didn’t know how to bid or how to pay and I wasn’t prepared to learn. I rang another brother-in-law who had eBbay experience and he did the biz for me.

One week later, at a cost of €23.99, my fiver arrived in its commemorative paper wallet. I felt good about liberating it. (By the way, the recipient was delighted with it. I was so pleased with myself that I forgot to get the socks, though). And, like a junkie, I’ve been visiting eBay regularly since. Whatever is your heart’s desire is there for the buying.

There are hundreds of categories each containing thousands of items ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. In the books, comics and magazines section alone, there are almost 300,000 items for sale. Cars, parts and vehicles, a mere 219,000.

Weird stuff category

There’s even a “Weird Stuff” category that had 3,001 items for sale. I heard an urban myth in the early days of eBay that someone advertised a human kidney for sale. I didn’t believe it at the time. Now I’m not so sure.

I still don’t really know how to bid or how to pay and it’ll have to stay that way. If I knew how to do it, it would be disastrous. I’d be back to liberating the junk. I have to admit I found myself looking at that prosthetic eye and feeling sorry for it. It all but winked at me.

Posted in Life itself on 19 January 2007
Tags: eBay