“Can I have it tonight? I live close,” she messaged me, as though getting a secondhand wine rack with eight basic wine glasses is an emergency at 9:45 on a Saturday night.  

“I was just going to bed,” I responded. 

“Be there in 10 minutes.”

“OK but I can’t leave it on my porch all night.”  I was a bit annoyed. It was Saturday but there’s nothing like getting into jammies and watching some Food Network in bed before I sleep.  

“On my way!” 

I hauled myself off the couch and went down to my Facebook Marketplace store - a corner of my basement dedicated to the scores of items I’m parting with. There’s so much in my store that finding stuff is the problem.  A more organized person would have established an inventory. Found it - a nice wine rack, a gift from my parents years ago.  It displayed wine and glasses in my last three homes, and it looked particularly good on the end of the bar that’s been the heart of this house.   But I can’t keep everything. I gave it a cursory dust. For the rates on FB I don’t kill myself to make stuff look just so. The number of wine glasses in this place is embarrassing. I’m glad to see some go out the door. 

I deposited the rack and a box of glasses outside, turned on the porch light, and settled back on the couch. 

“OK everything is outside for you to pick up now.  Leave $35 in the mailbox.”  I messaged.

No response.  Made sense, she was likely driving.   

Usually the dogs hear someone on the porch but they’re old and sleepy so she might have come and gone.   I peeked outside 15 minutes later. Box still here.  Damn.  

I messaged again “You coming?”  No response.  

I waited another 15 minutes and looked out again.  Still there.  

I returned to Facebook. Still no message from her.   “I’m removing them from my porch. I guess you decided against.” I never heard from her again.  One of the more frustrating Facebook Marketplace exchanges. 

***

While I have recently unveiled myself under my own name, I have been lurking on FB for awhile under an alias. For security purposes, it’s the alias who operates the FB Marketplace page. (The alias also has her own gmail account to receive e-transfers.  It’s very easy to establish an alternate identity, I’ve learned. Next I’ll get a burner phone.)  

I’m grateful for the anonymity a few times but none more so than the time I was standing in my garage showing some potential purchaser Jack’s tools, appliance parts, and other whatnots.  The guy, Joe*,  was telling me at length about his life - his second wife Brandy, his first wife also named Brandy (really?!?), his friend, Fred, with whom he owned 18 vintage Ford trucks, etc. etc. I was letting him chat me up because he seemed interested in what I’ve been dreaming - that someone will give me a price for the whole lot, take it away, and sell it off for a profit.  I would love nothing more than to make all this stuff Joe’s problem.

“I don’t have much space left for new tools in my garage at the co-op where Brandy and I live.” Joe prattled on.

I’d been only half listening, uh-huhing when necessary but my ears perked up. “Co-op? Oh yeah, which one?”  Celia, the co-op lawyer, emerged into the conversation, not my FB alter ego.  As soon as the question comes out of my mouth I thought, OK, that’s a weird question. Who would care what co-op someone lives in other than someone from the sector.  Joe didn’t miss a beat though. He named the co-op, a client of mine. 

Then it hit me. Fuck!!! Joe and Brandy!  This guy and his lovely wife are the ones I wrote a cease and desist letter to a few months ago for causing all sorts of problems at the co-op. My N95 does more than just protect me from COVID, catching my falling jaw. I was fully protected through the alias but still:  I gotta get this guy out of here. 

He left shortly after and as I closed the garage door behind him, I crouched in the corner half silently laughing, half shaking with fear.  The world is small and this alias business is a helluva good idea.  

***

Other shoppers have been much more pleasant.  A young man who turned out to be a neighbour came by a few weeks ago to look at the tools. It’s hard for me to price things I can’t identify and most of what’s in the garage falls into that category.  This guy helped me out, writing prices on a few bits that he thought would be attractive to other buyers.  He left with an armful of new treasures and I was $60 to the good. 

Another purchaser bought a 1950s German radio that Jack had acquired. The radio didn’t work and the cabinet looked pretty rough so I let it got for $50, down from the $70 I’d wanted. The next day the purchaser messaged me a video of cool jazz coming out of my former radio. He’d worked overnight, replacing the tubes and polishing up the cabinet. He was selling it for $175.  I was thrilled. Having something escape landfill and provide someone with entertainment in the fixing and ultimately the listening makes me very happy.

Buoyed by my vintage radio sale, I decided to put another radio on the great book of Face for $100 just to test the waters. I remember how proud I was leaving Bay Bloor Radio with my first adult tuner/CD player 15 years ago. Nothing at BBR is cheap and this was no exception.  I still listen to CDs but this player needed some cleaning as I explained in the posting.  I wasn’t surprised when I got no immediate response.  CDs are a bit OG.  And then, just like that, someone inquired. He came by and tested it out on the front porch while I stood inside my front door chatting through the screen.  Nearly my age, he reported, like me, he still had a big CD collection. He left with a bounce in his step thrilled to get something good quality but yet the right size for his small basement apartment.  Another win-win as I added $100 to my stack of cash.  

More than once, people have noticed I’ve underpriced things and have alerted me to the value. For example, turns out Tracy Chapman’s album from 1988 is worth a lot more than the $3 I was asking because it was never re-pressed. I quickly pulled it from the listing and reposted at $20.  Sold in a day. 

Since early October, I’ve sold 70 items through Marketplace, putting nearly $5000 into my bank account, mostly $5 and $10 bills at a time.  I’ve winced a little: “oooh that hurts” as some things left: the stunning yet too-large yellow leather Natuzzi chairs, the vintage coffee set that looked great but unused in my china cabinet, the Marimekko-style garden umbrella, the 22 Champagne flutes that started me off on my collection of 5 dozen(!).  Seriously, who needs all this crap?   

Transactions haven’t been all one way. I’m putting together my house suitable for renting out and there are things that I need.  I’ve driven to Oakville for wall sconces for my living room and to Newmarket for a clock for my office.  I doubt I will ever shop retail again.  

The share economy is new to me.  But not to masses of others. Facebook launched Marketplace in 2016 and it’s estimated that a staggering 1/3 of Americans use it. You have to wonder if it’s making any dent in tax revenue. And it raises other broader issues too about responsibility for product defects, liability, stolen goods, potential for money laundering, safety (think Tim Bosma), and so on.   

But for me it’s provided a peek at the range of human behaviour, especially during a time when it’s unusual to connect with new people. A pandemic pursuit well worth the effort! 

* names made up to protect us all.