Friday, October 29, 2010

Out In the Cold ; Or Longing to List


It’s dark and cold today and I would love nothing better than to hunker down with the books from the auction. I’d make a pot of strong black coffee, get my favorite mug from the dishwasher and wile away the hours in bibliophilic bliss. For me, listing is never a race to see how many titles can be uploaded in a single day. It’s dipping into random pages, reading about things I know nothing about, poring over beautiful plates, taking frequent side trips to google to find out who exactly Lucius Verus Bierce was, or what year Hoover closed their local plant, and of course trying to keep my descriptions shorter than a doctoral dissertation! But there will be none of these pleasures for me today. In an hour and a half we’re leaving for an estate sale so highly touted for its numerous antiques that as we speak dealers are probably asleep on the front lawn from last night

I tried to talk myself out of it. It’s dark and cold (I know I already said that, but it IS) and  I hate the long wait. And even with a three hour lead time we may not be amongst the first group to see the books. And the prices are guaranteed to make the national debt look like pin money. And it’s dark and cold. And they won’t give out numbers until three. And it’s dark and cold and ..

But we need to be there. So we are going. Sometimes even when you love what you do, you still have to face the dark, the cold, and the exorbitant.  In a perfect world wonderful old books could be ordered by phone and arrive on the UPS truck in a couple days. But given my experience with ebay this week even a pot of dark roasted Arabica couldn’t keep me away from this sale.

Speaking of the ebay experience, I learned something worth sharing after returning the books yesterday. Because I sold on ebay too for a long time I understand how miserable these sellers are right now, so I didn’t rant and rave, threaten their rating, or do anything else to add to their stress.  Consequently, every return I had, three altogether, not only turned out well, but provided some insight into why things went awry. In each case I approached the seller politely, complimented what they did right, and then explained the problem and why I wanted the refund. Just as I suspected, all three were “book sellers”, not booksellers, and all three are working under extreme stress.

Seller one lost her job and was selling anything she could get her hands on to make ends meet. Seller two mostly sells other types of antiquarian items, knows little about books, and is worried sick over her mother’s serious illness. Seller three, an elderly man trying to augment Social Security,  normally sells vintage linens, but was asked to sell the book for a friend. In each case three very nice, earnest people got in over their heads with a product, or a process, they didn’t understand. All three feared for their rating and all three displayed exemplary customer service skills.  I liked every last one of them and gave them each a superlative rating.

Should I have done so? Some would argue no. But after mulling it over all afternoon it occurred to me that anyone can make a mistake and maybe how you handle it is as important as the mistake itself. 

I remember one time my younger daughter Caitie ordered something from Nieman Marcus. I forget what it was, but the order totally went amok and she never got it. When she called to complain the customer service department  apologized profusely and reordered it for her. Unbelievably, it arrived in the wrong size or color! So she called AGAIN and explained what had happened. This time they not only got it right, but sent her a beautiful silver train case with their compliments.

Which do we remember, the problem or the resolution?  Long after I have forgotten the three books involved I will remember the kindness of these three sellers. In the meantime though I still have to go to the estate sale (in the dark and cold) because I am temporarily burned out from buying inventory online.

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