The Call

Every day I carry my list.  You know the one.  The store inventory.  Waiting for a call to come asking me for a price.  Today it came.  First time.  I thought I was ready for this.

They wanted fifteen percent off the price.  I proposed ten.  Then didn’t know what the result was.  The store called to ask what I could do with the price, then hung up.  I felt pretty good about it.  Then got nervous.  What if they quibble over a couple of dollars?  Will the person at the store offer a deeper discount on my behalf?  Should I call back and offer the discount myself?

I’m still learning in this biz.  I felt good about the price.  Someone else will come along with a desire to buy.  Don’t want to miss a sale over a couple of bucks.  Don’t want to give anything away either.  I’m in business here ya know.

It didn’t help that what they wanted to buy was one of my personal favorites.  Oh, I love that piece.  I can’t bear to part with it!  Wait a minute.  I’m in business here.  Right?  The business of selling antiques.

Sometimes I feel like I’m using the store as a museum exhibition space.  Or maybe just as an extra storage space for my stuff.  I love my stuff.  But I need to share.  To sell it and pass it along.  I need to remember that!

It’s all for sale.  Well, maybe not that one thing.  Then again…

That’s part of my story.  What’s yours?  www.personalhistorywriter.com

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