Wednesday, October 8, 2008
It all comes out in the wash
I won't sell my dishwasher for 80 euros. I won't do it. I don't care if we are moving Saturday and have to carry it 10 miles and store it in the middle of the living room. I'd rather chop it into pieces and eat it than take so little for it.
D gave me a hard time for not taking 80 euros when a guy and his wife came to look at it. I wanted 100, he bid 75 online and wanted to come see it. He upped it to 80. I said 90, he said 80, I said 85. He said 80. I said "thanks for coming. Don't let the door hit you on the ass when you leave."
First, he said it was too big. Then, no, maybe it would fit, but there's a little scratch on it. Then he said he saw another one without the plastic cover for 35 euros. Then it wasn't a good enough brand name for me to get 100 for it.
My father told me I did the right thing. (My father is dead, but he still talks to me sometimes. I know it's weird, just take it as a given and don't worry about my mental state.)
My dad had negotiating and bargaining in his genes. (He was an Arab, and they're cool like that) and I think I did what he would have done.
He taught me that you always have to be ready to walk away. Really walk away. He also taught me that there is always another one like it, no matter what "it" is. You think you'll never find something as unique or cheap or pretty - whether it's a house, a car, ahem - a dishwasher, or what have you.
Now if he was REALLY right, they'll call me again tomorrow having changed their minds. I'll let you know.