Did I Really Push an Old Lady?

Okay, just so you know right up front that normally, yes normally, I am a very considerate person. I open doors for folks who need it, let people go ahead of me in a checkout line if they have far fewer items, give sales clerks a smile and a kind word. That sort of thing. But today…well, let me set the stage.


A table full of nice pottery pieces. Love the smaller gold pot in the middle which I managed to get.

I had decided to go to an intriguing looking estate sale this morning. It opened at 8:00 and so by 6:50 a.m., before it was even really light out, I had found the house and put my name on the list.  Number 11.  Not a bad number. I went back to my car to read a bit and try to keep warm. I also amused myself by using the voice recorder on my smart phone. I recorded little pep talks to myself.

By 7:30 I went back to the house with my bag to mill around with the rest of the folks. I spent most of the time chatting very happily with another woman, also named Karen, who is thinking of opening an Etsy store! As it neared 8:00 I got closer to the front door with the other folks who were at the top of the list. And here’s where it gets dicey.

The door opened and the names started being called and as some folks skipped into the “promised land” of the house, outside others begun pressing in towards the doorway. It was rather a scrum, and when my name was called, I couldn’t get through. I said, ever so politely, “Can I get by please?” And NO ONE moved to let me by. People behind me pressed closer. I raised my voice, “My name’s been called…CAN YOU LET ME THROUGH?!!” Again no one moved.

Things get a little fuzzy here. I remember feeling trapped and slightly panicky and a bit angry. (After all I had gotten up before the crack of dawn and waited for over an hour…and I was number 11!  Let me in already.) I’m pretty sure at this point, much to my shame, I pushed up (ever so slightly) against the bulky, gray-haired old lady in front of me to try and get by. She still wouldn’t move. She was the Rock of Gibraltar.


My Wedgwood jug and a book of Longfellow poems.

Finally the owner of the estate sale business stopped calling names until the way was cleared for me to get through and I found myself finally in the house but embarrassed by the drama. And sad.  Sad by my own behavior and sad by the behavior of others. I mean honestly, this is just a sale of second-hand stuff, not the last lifeboat off the Titanic!

It got better inside. People were polite. Some guy even helped me get to a book that I couldn’t manage on my own. I was polite. I felt like myself again.

I lost out on a few pieces I had seen in the preview photos, but snagged the gold ceramic pot I liked and found a sweet Wedgwood Jasperware jug with a sweet price. Throw in a couple of books and that was my haul.

But I’m thinking I might take a break for a while from being part of the first-in crowd to estate sales!!  Too much drama!

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