The Grumpy Dealer
One of the promoters at a show came to me and introduced me to a reader who wanted to meet me. He said that he wanted to meet the grumpy dealer with the funny column. I’ll take the funny for sure, but grumpy? I’ll cop to snarky, critical and sarcastic. But grumpy? I plead “guilty with explanation”. Which you should never, ever say. Bit of free legal advice: one of my dumbest clients (my co-counsel who handled the criminal defense nicknamed him “Felony Stupid”) cooked his own goose when a detective paid him a visit to investigate a complaint and he said, “guilty with explanation.” Believe it or not, cops do not have a sense of humor about crime, so when you get questioned by the po-po, don’t get cute. The only words out of your mouth should be “I want to speak with an attorney”, followed by silence.
I like to think that I only give the treatment to those who deserve it, the ones who do stupid, ignorant, inconsiderate things, but maybe I am too critical. It’s just that my pet peeve is humanity, and I have a low threshold for people and what they do. Always have, and sometimes it gets me into trouble. When I was about 20, I nearly got into a fight in art class (seriously) because some guy was standing in front of my work when the professor was trying to look it over, and I may have said (in my classic New York accent): “you gonna move, or what?” He turned around (did I mention his back was to my drawing), got in my face, and asked “or what?” I said “yeah” (“yeh” in Manhattanese) or what.” I guess the gods of accents were in my favor that afternoon because he backed off; maybe New Yorkers are tough or maybe he decided we’re just blunt, I dunno. Anyway, you decide whether these numbskulls are justifiably grump-inducing:
--One guy asked me for New England Patriots cards. I took the time and pulled a few dozen for him from my commons boxes. He said: “They’re nice but I don’t have any money.” Then why did you stand there and ask me to pull them, nitwit?
--One couple spent about forty minutes looking at every shiny card I had before deciding on a $2 card. They asked me to cut the price. I said no (see the column on why I can’t afford to discount a $2 card). They dropped the card back into the box and walked. If you spent all that time and you’re tossing it back over a buck, you don’t need cards, you need credit counseling. I got the last laugh, though. It was a good item that I priced below market and I sold it for full price the next day. With the extra buck I got the taco with tomatoes at Del Taco on my way home from the show. Winning.
-- I’m no choir boy when it comes to language (‘Freddie-Uncle-Charlie-Katy’ and related choice four-lettered words pepper my texts to such an extent that my iPhone no longer tries to auto-correct away the expletives), but when I am talking around little kids, I try to refrain. I wish others would too. Every show, I see at least two or three young men a day walking the aisles, yelling into their phones, loudly dropping F-Bombs and spewing a torrent of other cuss words with no regard to the large numbers of kids at the show all around them. Like it or not, us adult collectors are modeling behavior for the next generations of collectors. You’re at a card show, not in a strip club, so how about a little awareness of the family-oriented atmosphere we are all trying to give the kids instead of behaving like the foul-mouthed, self-centered incel jagoff that you are?
--I am all for legalizing pot. I partake regularly (hell, I am going to the weed store this weekend; gotta love Cali). But we need some commonsense regulations around events like card shows. Keep it away from the show, guys. I don’t want to run a gauntlet of young men vaping and firing up doobage every time I go in or out of the show. Again, have a little consideration for people with children at the show; when they are bringing their tweens to a show, some parents would prefer that the convention center entrance just smell like hobo pee, like it used to before legalization.
--Keep your stuff off my cases and inventory. How many times do I have to say this, you inconsiderate jackholes??? One guy had a want list and decided that my table was his desk. He took up 50% of my table spreading his notebook and notes across my display. Another guy decided to park his backpack on top of my publications section while he had a conversation with his friends; he wasn’t even buying from me, just decided that my table was his to use. You are interfering with other collectors trying to look at my stuff that I am selling, and like Guido the Killer Pimp said in Risky Business, “never fuck with another man’s livelihood.”
--Oh, and the biggest PITA of all, THAT person. You know him or her, you’ve all met them. No matter where you go, they infect every organization and bureaucracy, some functionary taking a job too seriously and tossing common sense into the trash in the process. I actually think they enjoy it. I once had to make a claim for my mother with Social Security because they didn’t pay her my father’s death benefits. The hoops I had to jump through were unreal: they actually expected me to find my father’s 1951 military discharge papers in 2022? What are you, kidding me? Well, joke’s on you, assholes. I’m a lawyer: I know how to work a system, find information, and put together a brief, so challenge accepted. I got everything and went to the appointment. The functionary behind the glass had a big smirky smile on her face when she started to look at the package and check it against her worksheet, but her smirk turned to a frown as she realized that I had every damn item on the list. She was shocked; apparently, no one gets it right the first time, or so she said. Even though the payment was approved, it never showed up. I still ended up having to go to my congressman to get the benefits paid. My mother died before she ever saw a dime. Well, that clerk’s relatives must work security at card shows. One time it was someone who forced me carry a heavy load around a doorway to a loading dock because he didn’t want to open it. At another show it was someone slapping a random time constraint on me to load in or load out. Which I did not follow. Tip to the petty bureaucratic tyrants out there: get a life.
So, grumpy? Guilty as charged. But like the paranoid who was actually being followed, doesn’t mean I am wrong.
Oh, and on the subject of shows, I’ve decided to stop doing them unless I am working with another seller. It has gotten too rigorous and too dangerous, frankly. The money sloshing around the hobby is so big and the thefts are getting bigger and more brazen. From sneak thefts to car break-ins, the risks are rising. It is just a matter of time before a dealer gets jacked in a parking lot or followed home and held up. I’d prefer it not to be me. Until promoters take security seriously, I just don’t see doing it again. Plus, I gotta admit, on an hourly basis, eBay selling is more lucrative. A two-day show takes about five days in all to plan, stock, set up and work. I can list hundreds of items for sale in that time and move more of them than I would at a show. Definitely going to go to shows, though, so see you at the picking boxes. I’ll be the guy with the sharp elbows.