Recently, I asked a friend, Sterling Swann, to staff the antiques and art gallery I share with Pierre Boulee, Boulay Antiques, in Hudson, NY. He had an experience of some interest. We thank him for his forebearance!
Tending an antique shop is a unique experience in human dealings. The novice would think that the sitter would do just that: sit and wait for the customers to stroll in, make their selections, swap a few words of pleasantries and collect the proceeds. Sometimes that's the scenario. Not always.
Saturday afternoon, I am sitting in shop in Hudson New York. The day is brutally hot, punctuated by the drone of the air conditioner struggling to keep the inside temperature lower than the sweltering outsides. A gentle mix of customers passing through. Some have questions, most "just strolling".
One particular customer came in with a party of three other adults and a youngster, maybe age 7. I serve up the usual greeting and encourage them to take their time and look around. They spend time looking at many objects throughout the eclectic collection of glassware, furniture, collectibles textiles and much more. Finally, the group stall in the art books section and spends considerable time glancing through pages while having a muted discussion on the offerings. I can faintly hear an ongoing discussion on one particular title. It seems that one of the browsers has an interest in the book. Finally, the well heeled browser approaches the desk where I am sitting. I look up from my own edition of the NY Times. "Excuse me, sir. What is the price of this book?' He's clutching the fabric covered hardback publication to his chest. I reach out, and take the book which he seems reluctant to hand over. The price label is in plain sight. "Thirty dollars", I echoed the price on the label. "Well, can you do any better," came the immediate response.
Me: Maybe some better.
The book was a handsome volume. The cover intact, in new like condition.
He: I want it but I don't want to pay thirty dollars for it.
Me: Well, what do you want to pay for it.
He: Twenty dollars. I want it for twenty dollars.
Me: I can't do it for twenty dollars.
He looked crest fallen.
He: But that's what I want to pay for it.
Me: Why don't we meet in the middle. I will sell it for twenty five dollars.
I felt that a five dollar discount was a fair discount on a thirty dollar item. After all, there are expenses. The air conditioner continued its incessant drone.
He reached for the book and clutched it again near his chest, like a prized possession. Finally, he reached for his wallet.
He: I have twenty two dollars.
A twenty and two ones appeared.
The youngster was telling him that he had some money and would be willing to lend him enough to get the book until later.
Me: The price is twenty five.
Back to the NY Times.
He: Well, I am not sure that I really want this book. I thought I would get it for the right price. It might not be of any use to me.
Me: Well, sir: That is something you have to decide for yourself. But the price is twenty five dollars.
He: But it might not be of use to me.
Me: Twenty five dollars. Not bothering to look up from the NY Times.
My attention went to the Michael Vick, gambling and dog fighting. The air conditioner labored on. Peripherally, I could see the group of browsers huddled in the book section. Circling the wagons?
"Excuse me sir, came the lilting voice. What is the best price you can do on this book?."
The youngster was standing before me holding the same book as the previous adult. His innocent eyes punctuated his question. The other adults remained in the circle with all eyes on the younger.
Me: Twenty five dollars.
Younger: (Sweetly, only as a child could say it.) I mean what is the rock bottom price for this book.
Me: The same as it was ten minutes ago, twenty five dollars.
The younger clutched the book and rejoined the circle.
"He wouldn't budge", one of the adult voices waffled from the huddle.
Finally after some chatter in the group the original browser came to the desk. I look up and smiled. Sweetly.
"I'll take it he said"
Me: That's great.
He went through the ritual of extracting a twenty and five ones from his designer leather wallet. I held the and looked at the money on the desk. Frozen, not moving. Waiting.
"Oh, can I have it without paying taxes"?
The air conditioner droned, the huddle watched from a safe distance.
"Why sure! Enjoy".
Sometimes, it is better to accept a compromised victory.
"Please come again", I said as the entourage moved towards the door , led by the browser clutching his new purchase to his chest.
