I don't think there is anything more quintessential rural Albertan than a good old- fashioned ...auction. I know I have written about auctions at least once before in this space, but a recent visit to yet another country selling spree has inspired me once again.
I'm not the shrewdest nodder near the trailer, but I'm getting there. So I thought it might be helpful, based on my ten years of auctionholism, for all you newbies and novices, if I could pass along my wisdom and warnings.
They are, as follows:
One, choose an auction that is no more than an hour from your house, so long as it is just the usual run-of-the-mill sale. If it is a specialty item you need (operative word: “need”), and it is sitting up yonder in, say, Lloydminster, go for it. However, if it you're just looking for a good deal on a screwdriver, a crowbar, or a ladder, well, save the gas and go to Canadian Tire.
If your “need” lies somewhere in between, apply the one-hour rule I just suggested.
Two, be careful who you take. You take your kids, they want to eat; you take your wife, she may want to eat and shop--but for new things, say, at Walmart. Suggestion: Drop them all off where they can eat and shop, then you go ahead and, well, eat and shop yourself at Auctions-R-Us, wherever that may be for the day.
The result will be happy and full family for the rest of the day--not a bad trade-off at all.
Three, wear a straitjacket under your overalls. Do not--I repeat, do not--pick or scratch your nose; do not tell any jokes that necessitate using your arms; and do not wave at anyone you know. In fact, don't even nod at your friends; you may end up buying a hoe, hose, or hosiery, all because you're a friendly guy.
Auctioneers are simple folk and could easily misconstrue any hand or head movement as a legitimate bid. I almost bought a rotary telephone recently, when I nodded at one of the ringmen, a neighbour of mine. Next time, I'll just send him a note. (I'll try not to start the note off with “hi”: He might misunderstand and think I want to go “hi-gher.”)
Four, buy only what you need and do it without any emotion—emotion such as pity, grace, or even vengeance. It is a simple business transaction, and despite the circumstances for the auction, you are not responsible to line the seller's pockets. If that's your motivation, then go to an art auction instead. That's where you can buy things for hundreds of dollars more than they're worth, getting something you can't afford and something you don't need.
And that's about it for advice. The other tip I would give is this: Plan to stay as long as your feet allow you to. Auctions are a great way to catch up on the local gossip. Gossip could include the price of beef (hopefully not too much “bull”), the price of grain (well “grounded”), and the usual politics and hockey talk and state-of-the-world issues.
Auctions are a strange event, in that, I actually enjoy just being a number. Craig Funston never bought that bat, bit, or beaut; #45 did. Though I must say that I am only a number until I traipse up to the trailer and pay for my purchases.
In addition to being a mere number, the anonymity is refreshing. I may or may not see anyone I know; and if I did, I may or may not feel the urge to talk to them—especially if I feel they are bidding against me.
All in all, I would say auctions in rural Alberta are an eight out of ten. Or do I hear a twelve? Fifteen?
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