One person's trash - part two

Listen to this.

It’s crowded in here. Crowded, loud, gritty, and poorly lit; but for some reason, I love it. The auction room has the same vibe that causes the visceral turbulence in a concert hall seconds before the main act hits the stage. In addition to the auctioneer’s voice echoing from the PA, a hundred or so bidders yell toward the front of the warehouse attempting to out-shout one another and draw the auctioneer’s attention. There are arguments amongst groups of men, but no fights are breaking out yet. I’m told by one of the bidders that most of the others have unwritten agreements between them as to who can bid for what types of merchandise on any given day. So on Tuesdays and Thursdays you agree to bid on clothing, tools, and small appliances, and Monday, Wednesday and Fridays, you can only bid on consumer electronics, large appliances, and furniture. The arguments break out when someone fails to stick with their agreement – say, if a bin of furniture is about to be sold for far less than it’s worth, and, despite not being your ‘furniture’ day, the temptation to place a bid is just too great. In addition, I’m told there’s a hierarchy amongst the bidders that is constantly in flux, depending on their perception of their own seniority on any given morning. If someone sees himself as the senior potential bidder of a particular lot, and it’s at a price that can’t be passed up, all bets are off, all agreements null and void. So there’s more than one way to pick a fight here on the floor, and, according to my source, there are plenty of them.

The atmosphere here is about as far from Sotheby’s as you can get. And while an upscale auction house relies on high quality offerings, impeccable standards, and established decorum, this auction relies on quantity over quality, the momentum of mayhem, and a climate of spirit that rides somewhere between promise and anarchy.