I am my father's daughter, so naturally, he has instilled in me an inherent sense of a good and bad price for something. As you heard, my sewing machine broke down in the depths of an important (to me) project, so I was quite intrigued by a call from Mrs. T. that she was at an estate sale, and had seen a machine. Somewhat assured that it was in good condition, Mama persuaded Daniel to take me down to the sale, and inspect it. Before we left, her parting admonition was: "Offer 30 dollars!" (they asked for 50 originally)
Those of you who know me, will realize that I am quite shy around strangers. We first stopped at a house with a "garage sale" sign in the yard. After knocking on the front and side doors, we determined that it was, indeed, the wrong house! *blush* This unnerved me a bit. We drove further down the road, and found the estate sale. After getting out of the van, we were met at the door by a meek, pale, elderly man with a small moustache. He held the door open, and his wife met us indoors. Daniel, thankfully, did the talking for me: "My sister was looking for a sewing machine?" The woman ushered us into a cluttered room, where a vintage sewing machine sat upon a table amongst a motley array of other items. She was not a seamstress herself, but I sat down, and tried the machine. It sewed in a strange fashion, so I checked, and discovered it to be threaded entirely incorrectly. That being remedied, we soon determined it was a suitable machine for my needs. The only thing now was to offer the thirty dollars. My bashfulness was heightened by the sensibility of this being the pale, meek, elderly man's late mother's sewing machine. I did not want to haggle with them! A desperate plan entered my head. "Daniel!" I hissed, beckoning to him. He returned to my side. "You pay for this! Offer thirty dollars! I'll be out in the car!" and with that, I prepared to flee. But Sarah hemmed me in while my good brother, who will not allow me to slip out of things said, "You must pay."
"But how?!? Please Daniel!" (Obviously my face was neither endearing nor pitiful enough to sway him) "No Rachel, you must just ask them if they are firm on the price!"
I gathered my courage. On the way over, I had played the whole scene out in my head, being a shrewd enough haggler: I would offer 30 dollars, but expect to pay 40, and haggle up to that.
The woman came back into the room. "Well?" she said with a tiny hint of impatience.
"Are...are you all firm on the price?" I asked, sounding to my ears dreadfully cold. She glanced at the machine. "I could maybe give it to you for 40."
Rejoicing, I snapped up the price without haggling. There is where I left behind Dad's teaching. I followed the woman out of the room, trying not to squirm as she whispered the diminished price to the meek, pale, elderly gentleman with the very small moustache. I felt, somewhere behind me, the rolling over of the dearly departed in her grave. ;) I blushingly paid the price, and fled to the car with a polite, "Thank you!"
When I got home, I announced the price to Dad, and told him the story. He merely smiled. "If they offered to decrease it to 40 right off the bat, you surely could have gotten it for 25 dollars!" and he shook his head sagely. But all's well that ends well! I still have much to learn from Dad, but I've now got a working machine! :D -Rachel
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