Huge Profits and Their Hidden Costs

“That old cracked up uke?  Oh, give me a hundred dollars.”  The year was 1999 and I was in a pawn shop in one of the big cities I frequented at least once a month then. My intent was to buy used musical instruments which I could put a little work into and resell for a profit on eBay, the popular online auction website.  The ukulele was an afterthought, discovered hanging on the wall while I was waiting for the clerk to find the case to a nice professional trumpet, for which I had negotiated a fair price.  The old Martin uke was battered, with a crack in the back, and missing a couple of strings, but I thought that it should surely be worth the price and agreed to pay it.

Upon reaching home, I did as I always do, researching the instrument, finding to my gratification that it was a fairly rare, 80 year-old instrument, made of Hawaiian Koa wood.  Not being able to find an authoritative resale price, I started an auction with a reserve price much higher than I actually believed the battered instrument would bring.  To my surprise, the first bid reached the reserve price!  After that, my bewilderment increased each day of the seven day auction, as the bids mounted up, raising the price $1000 per day from the original $1800 bid.  My son’s friends watched the auction each day at school, incredulous that an old beat-up ukulele could actually bring such a price.  At the end of that seven days, the final auction price for this “oh, and I’ll take that too” purchase of mine, stood at an astounding $9000!  Nine thousand dollars!

I had spent a couple hundred dollars more, when it became obvious that the instrument was valuable, to have an appropriate hard case overnighted to me, and the auction site took a fair amount of the proceeds as a commission, so I actually had invested something between five and six hundred dollars in the deal, but I can safely say that this was the highest percentage profit I have ever made on a purchase, either before or after.  The congratulations were flying, from the high school boys, who were in awe of the whole process, to colleagues in the music business, who had also watched the auction with keen interest.  But I actually tell the story almost with shame, because I have never felt so distraught in making a sale.  It just felt wrong!  To this day, people who hear the story assure me that there was nothing to feel guilty about.

Their words remain unconvincing still.  I understand that the auction process allows folks who really desire something, to pay as much as they are willing to spend, regardless of the real value of the item.  The man who purchased the ukulele was beside himself with glee.  He was the new owner of the only Martin Style 3K Tenor ukulele known to be in existence then and it filled out his nearly complete Martin uke collection.  He was more than content.  But, I wasn’t.  It’s funny how events affect your subconscious choices.  Within a year, I had stopped making the monthly trips to big cities to scour the local pawn shops and junk stores.  I explained it to those who asked, that I had found the “Holy Grail” and could never top the experience, so the thrill was gone, but actually, over the intervening years, I have come to realize that the opposite is true.  I’m afraid that it could happen again.  You see, in that week that the auction was in process, I got a good look at the greed that was inside of me.  I actually found myself disappointed when the auction ended at $9000!  Why not $10,000 or $15,000?  There was real money to be made and I wanted more!  I had never known an experience like this and put simply, I was shamed by the desires it awoke in me.  And, I don’t want to experience those feelings again.

I sell items at a reasonable profit every day.  I don’t experience any guilt about that.  It is the system of economics which makes our culture thrive and rise above many others.  I have made a living in providing products which I believe are relevant to our culture and the fact that my business is successful attests to that relevancy.  I have recounted the story of my triumph/shame only to shine the light on how an event that most would view as a huge success, can actually be a huge disappointment to those who see if from a different perspective.

The experience of the Martin uke is just another gauge, a reference point, if you will, that shapes who I am and how I want to live my life.  There is nothing to praise in it, but much to be learned from it.  How I wish I had met the test better, but perhaps, if the opportunity ever arises again, I’ll pass with flying colors.  Where there’s life, there’s hope…

“…Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too.  They live inside us and sometimes, they win.”
(Stephen King)

Perfect attendance!

“Twenty Dollars.”

These two words, spoken listlessly by the scruffy, not-quite-clean, but once-proud man were exactly what I had expected to hear, as I looked at what he had to sell.  The now-commonplace scene was repeated again one day recently and I’ve got to tell you, I long for the days when the musical instruments coming in my door are being brought by folks who want to sell them.  I love a good bargaining session where the give and take, the reciprocity, are mutual and spirited.  I make an offer, they counter-offer.  I balk, they come down a bit, and we come to an agreement (you know, like Pawn Stars on The History Channel).  I now own an instrument which can be resold for a reasonable profit and they leave with money in their hands, usually more than they came in expecting (and sometimes less).  But they wanted to make the deal and leave satisfied.

Today’s specimen is not such an example.  The instrument is a no-name, beat-up, barely-playable electric guitar in a non-matching and groaty case.  And yes, I realize the term “groaty” is an obsolete fad-word, used by my generation in our prime (a long, long time ago) to describe a gross, disturbing mess, but that describes this case precisely.  It is almost slimy with mold and putrid with the stench of stale cigarettes and cat.  If I were anyone else (you know, like Pawn Stars), I would probably order them out of the shop with it, but I cannot.  This is not about an instrument, a case, nor even about money.  This is about the person holding the monstrosity.  I don’t need that guitar.  I already have a back room filled to over-flowing with such unmarketable eyesores.  But, I do need to buy the instrument.  He doesn’t want a hand-out, but he needs one, so he’s brought the only thing of “value” that he can let go of.  This man needs to walk out of here with dignity (but with money in his hands) and I rise to the occasion.  Why?  Because I have to.  It’s my reason for being here.  Well, one of them anyway, but an important one.

When I wrote my first post, I said I needed a “pulpit from which to preach.”  So here’s a little of the preaching part.  When Jesus said, “The poor you have with you always,”  as He gave permission for an extravagant gift to be given for Him, what He did not mean is, “Don’t help the poor.”  He meant exactly the opposite.  Give to the poor and give extravagantly to God.  We are not excused from helping them, simply because we can quote Paul’s instructions to the Thessalonians,  “If a man will not work, neither shall he eat.”  That phrase is so overused and incorrectly applied that it has lost all of its original meaning. When uttered today, it means, “I really don’t want to share with you and it’s your own fault that I have an excuse.”  In its original context, it was never to be applied to unbelievers, and certainly not as an excuse for selfishness!  If love is not the purpose of our actions, they are wrong. Period!

Wow!  I’m almost done preaching now…But I do laugh at how people (notice; one finger pointing outward, but three pointing back at me) just don’t “get it.”  The other day, one of my “always with me” guys (let’s call him Joe) was in as I was bartering with a different “always with me” guy (call him Jack) for an amplifier.  When I gave Jack too much for the amplifier (because he needed a break), Joe waited until he was gone and asked, “Is he somebody special?  You gave him way too much for that.”  Picture this being said as Joe was pocketing the proceeds from the sale of his guitar, for which I paid him well more than Blue-book price, simply because he needed money to make a payment to his creditors. But that’s all of us to a tee isn’t it?

I like to think that I’m a student of human nature, but my guess is that I’m just as blind as the next guy when it comes to recognizing the gifts I’m given.  Instead of simply being grateful, I point to what others are given and talk about how little they deserve it.  Look around you, you may also see what I mean.  We’re surrounded by examples.  You can probably find one if you try…

“Twenty dollars.”  I paid the man and later threw away the case and added the guitar to my ever-growing collection.

I’m hoping someday to find plans for an art project that calls for electric guitars without pickups, trumpets with missing valves or slides, and moldy saxophones with broken keys.  Any suggestions?

The Genuine Article!

He was back again today.  When he said, “I hope you’re doing well”, I think he meant, “I hope your doctor got the meds straightened out.”  Stradivarius violin discussion, Part 2.  This time with new evidence.  Really irrefutable evidence.  Three knockout punches!

1) “My Dad says it’s real, because he’s read the label.”  Even the following quote from the Smithsonian didn’t make much of a dent  “Therefore, the presence of a Stradivarius label in a violin has no bearing on whether the instrument is a genuine work of Stradivari himself.”  Dad said it!  Who is this Smithsonian organization anyway? 
2) “My Grandpa found it in an attic around 1900.”  Me:  “Stradivari built his violins in the late 1600’s and the early 1700’s.  Thousands upon thousands of fakes had already been made in the intervening 200 years.” Still no help…
3) “It has a real wood case and only the genuine Stradivarius violins had that case.”  Now, the fact that I could show him that eBay has these things available at $20 was helpful here...But still he was not convinced.

As he left, muttering that Grandpa and Dad both couldn’t be mistaken, and promising to get the violin to an appraiser to prove me wrong, it struck me…We all do that!  In the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, we believe what we want to believe.  Hey!  As I write this in the wee hours of the morning, not two miles away from me there are Don Quixotes throwing chips at the roulette wheels at the casino, knowing that it’s a fool’s game, but believing that this time, it will be different for them. (“To dream, the impossible dream…” Sung in the key of B-flat busted…)

“Statistics!  Phtooey!  Who needs ’em?  I’ve got a feeling that tonight’s the night!  Besides that, Jack’s cousin’s girlfriend’s brother won $10,000 out here a week ago (or was it a year?).  I’ll win for sure!”

We laugh, both at the Stradivarius guy and the Casino guy, but I’m convinced that we all need a little of that.  No, I’m not saying that we should live our lives based on the ridiculous falsehoods of easy money and hidden treasure.  What I am saying is that hopes and dreams are amazing motivators and, kept in perspective, goad us on to do things we might never attempt otherwise.  “Hope springs eternal in the human breast…” is not just the first line of an old, dead piece of prose, but it’s true.  We always hope for better, always believe that we can do more, and always reach for the future.  (And yes, I know there are times when the flame of hope dies down, but that’s a discussion for another time.)

Twenty-five years ago this month, I sat in the living room at the late Dr. Marc Gilbert’s house, having gone to him for advice about leaving the steady job I had (and really wasn’t fond of) and buying a faltering music store in the small town in which I live.  Dr. Gilbert advised strongly against it.  “The numbers just aren’t there.  You’ll be much better off staying where you are.”  But he, wise man that he was, also inquired, “You really want to do this, don’t you?”  Boy, did I ever!  The early years I had spent in music and the few years previous when I had worked in this very store were all I needed to know that this was it!  This was what I was made for!  Not a huge aspiration, as aspirations go, but it was mine!  And he, listening to me talk, knew a dream when he heard it and simply said, “Well you already know it won’t make you rich.  But it looks like it will make you happy.”  Yep!  Right on both counts, Dr. Gilbert!  But still loving it and thankful to the Lord for making it possible.

“There’s a time I can recall
Four years old and three feet tall
Trying to touch the stars and the cookie jar
And both were out of reach…”  (from “Reaching” by Carolyn Arends)

“A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a Heaven for?” (Robert Browning)

Aim higher!  Whether it’s cookies or stars you’re reaching for, you can’t get to them standing flat-footed in one place.  Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just stand there.

Keep hoping!  It’s even okay to look for the Stradivarius violin, but honestly, unless it’s just for entertainment,  the casino’s not gonna work out.