Thrift is a constant and unpredictable mess. There are patterns to it, but you never know what will come in the door, or in what form.
(Or when.
Sometimes a customer will ask, "When will you get XYZ?"
Let me get my crystal ball...)
In comes...
Heavy metal objects in lightweight paper bags. (Lift bags from their bottoms, not their handles)
Fragile glass in flimsy bags, not infrequently pre-broken. (Don't plunge your hand into bags.)
Mouse droppings in the bottom of boxes and bags;
objects covered in mold and mildew;
objects smeared with fluids and sticky substances.
There are treasures too, of course.
A first edition. Vintage designer shoes. Gold (very rarely). Relics of saints, for godsake!
A volunteer takes beat-up silver objects to a buyer when enough pile up--we get a few hundred bucks for things like a pile of single dented silverware that wouldn't sell in the store.
Mostly we get perfectly decent, useful items, like mugs and T-shirts and almost-current bestsellers.
Anyway, you never know, and that makes it fun, but the flood gets to be a bit much sometimes, and everyone can feel overwhelmed.
If I do, I usually feel less whelmed if I stop. breathe, and create some order, however fleeting.
Ass't Man creates the end-cap displays in Housewares. Sometimes I add to them, but it's his deal. He does a great job, but I notice he tends toward dark and earth colors in his displays. (He's Taurus, an earth sign.)
Even this summer, one of his displays is all red and black objects.
Ass't Man is on vacation for two weeks. Yesterday I set up a bright display, at the entrance.
I mostly chose multiples or things with repeating patterns--lining up the sort of thing that calms me down.
I was especially pleased to come up with table knives, on the orange plate. (Though they wouldn't stay in any particular order, they make their own.)
And those vintage Pelicans!
This is what it looks like when you first walk in the store:
Outside the store, rampant disorder is on display. Street business is on high again the past couple weeks. People dancing half-clothed in the street, etc.
Nothing much you can do about it in the short term.
Yesterday Jerry asked me to help him move a longtime regular, a once-lovely guy who has gradually slid into deep alcoholism and unlovely behavior.
This guy was lying, half-passed out, IN the alley, where a car could easily run him over before they saw him.
Jerry had tried to get him to move, and he'd refused. Knowing I like this guy, and he likes me, he asked if I'd try.
At first I said no, I wouldn't. I didn't think this guy would move for me either, and honestly, I was just fed up with all the need and futility.
But I did try. Of course. Because Jerry looked at me with his "I am a fan of the Grateful Dead" eyes. [That is, the eyes of people who think Love & Tie-Dye is stronger than Fear.]
What helps, I've found, is ... SUBSTITUTION.
Swap one thing for another.
I said to Jerry, Okay, let's get him a lawn chair or something comfy to sit in instead of lying on the ground.
So we did that, and with much persuasion--"Remember how I love you!" I said--and a literal hand up (he couldn't really stand), we moved the guy to a slouchy chair on the sidewalk.
(No point in calling detox, the guy has been in the drunk tank a thousand times.)
So, it's disordered out there, for sure. You do the little things you can. Or not. I'm not judging anymore.
Let's listen to a perky song!
The Righteous Brothers, "Substitute" (1975)
