I had a yard sale once.
I was feeling lonely, so why not offer up what I’ve got?
The only buyers I had at first were of the passing kind.
Eventually, I lowered the prices, and a few takers stopped by.
They were quick to snatch up the lower value items. You know, the stuff that requires no serious commitment.
A brief storm then suspended the sale momentarily, giving me time to regroup, reorganize, and reassess.
Little did I know, I would soon be in the clutches of success.
The “big spender” came, his dress reflective of his ironically cheap persona.
Having already lowered my prices once, I wasn’t willing to drop them once more.
I needn’t have worried; he flashed his cash effortlessly.
I gained confidence in his spending power, so naturally I gained foolish confidence in him.
I even shared with him my high value possessions, those not for sale.
He smooth-talked his way into a one-side negotiation that I, smitten, accepted.
High on success, I brazenly showed him the key to my safe.
Inside, I kept my priceless treasure.
He bought the key, and thus the contents.
I sold it to him.
Shortly thereafter, my stock was depleted.
I sold him everything. I sold out.
He even got my mailbox and wasted no time in painting it black.
I wanted to call the cops; “THIEF!” my lungs were aching to accuse.
But—what had he done that I had not allowed?
I fell victim to a not-so-ruthless negotiator. I succumbed to a fool.
I grossly underestimated the value of those items I had so carelessly displayed for the taking.
Since then, I have kept my place locked up.
My fence is back up.
Nothing leaves or enters under my cautious watch.
No buyers allowed.
No sellers allowed.
I’ve got nothing left to sell and I’m done buying shit.