A Bad Day In The Auction Business, August 24,2013

Yesterday, August 24, 2013, I got a call from an individual I do not know asking me if I would come to Means, KY, in Menifee County to work a small consignment auction at his auction house. I generally always say yes to such requests for several reasons. First, it is the right thing to do to bail out a fellow member of a licensed profession when circumstances make it necessary for them to ask for help. Secondly, it is a good way to have my work as an auctioneer seen by people who don’t usually come to my own sales. Thirdly, it gives me a chance to see how some of my peers and competitors are operating their own businesses. Therefore, I always keep my name on the contract auctioneer page at Auction Zip. I agreed to do the sale and made arrangements to go there with my wife Candice. We arrived the building which I had seen about a year and a half ago when I was searching for a location in Eastern Kentucky to set up my own auction house. I had not been impressed when I saw it the first time and I was not impressed when I saw what had been done with it by the current operator. It was an old store located directly across US460 from the Means, KY, post office. The building is probably 50 to 75 years old and has little or no upkeep since it was last used as a grocery. The parking lot was nearly bereft of all its original paving. The only bathrooms were in a small concrete addition on the outside of the building. Grass and weeds were growing in every spot which was not heavily trafficked. The auction block was a cobbled wooden structure above the floor with three rickety steps staggering up to the tiny platform behind the auction block. The table for the auctioneer and cashier was built with a steep downward tilt so that a roll of duct tape had been place on it to hold the auctioneer’s water. The sound system was average or above with a hand held wireless microphone which quit once on me during the sale. There were two or three large steel uprights obstructing the view from the block to the back of the room. The merchandise which was waiting to be sold pitifully reminded of my first few solo sales when I was buying out yard sales, accepting box lots of junk, and taking anything of any hopeful value on consignment in order to have enough items to sell to entice a few people to come back the following week. It was heavily used in general with obvious flaws, defects, and shortcomings. The crowd, if it could be called such, dwindled in by ones and twos. Nearly all of them were dressed in clothes which appeared to have been bought in boxes at estate sales of the working class. Most were not very verbal before the sale started and talked only to those they knew. The two or three which the operator identified as sellers looked, at best, only a little better than their potential customers. In general, they seemed to be a low income, sultry, and sullen bunch. The operator started the sale about 15 minutes late which I always detest. It is my firm belief that a scheduled start time should be honored in concrete. As I like to say, “when the big hand hits the twelve I am going to make somebody happy.” The operator and one other man acted as ring men and merchandise movers. Their bid spotting was weak and they both liked to occasionally shout as if the noise might scare a bid out of someone.