One man’s trash

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So I am slowly packing up my house for my move to Italy.

I gathered all the household items and the Knick knacks I have collected over the years that I don’t want to keep anymore and decided to have a garage sale.

So I did that one Saturday morning.

The items I no longer wanted were clean, functioning, not ancient and therefore I decided someone could make use of them.

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure….and all that jazz.

SO when the professional garage sale parasites had finished picking at the carcass I had items left sitting on tables on my front lawn that nobody wanted.

I offered them to family… and they didn’t want them.

CAN YOU SEE A PATTERN DEVELOPING HERE? ……. well I couldn’t.

I had quiet a few bags of kids clothing bundled up around the house, so I placed them along with the boxes of garage sales items, in the boot of my station wagon and headed off to Vinnies – That’s The Saint Vincent De Paul Society charity stores.

Normally here in Australia, we are invited to DUMP our goods of contribution into big blue industrial bins. I had lamps and vases amongst other things so I decided to make the effort to drive to a location where I could pull up to a loading dock and have some lovely charitable soul take them off me, give me a warm smile and thank me.

Yeah right !

I have my car backed into the dock with my tailgate open and started unloading. A twenty something year old male directed me as to where he would like me to place the bags of items and clothing.

The unloading is taking a while as I have a substantial amount. This young guy proceeded to start going through the bags and SORT my items whilst I’m still there.

Excellent all good here….. until he starts to throw items in the bin.   Thud.. Thud.. Thud.. WHAT???

I truly couldn’t comprehend what was happening. He was going through the items, taking a quick glance, obviously deciding what would sell and would wouldn’t. Then one item after another …..  thud.. thud.. thud.

What I saw go into the bin was a boxed kids chemistry set, a functioning radio and a boxed pair of kids shoes – worn half a dozen times and therefore considered by me to be of use to someone in need.

I was stunned but I don’t know at what.

I was stunned at his actions but more so I was stunned at my inability to do or say something. I continued slowly placing my white plastic bags of clothing on the dock as I fought myself internally.

“Is all of this clothing?” he asked pointing at my items.

I had the chance to protest but didn’t. I came out with no more than a one syllable “yes” and slowly hopped back into the driver’s seat, turned the key and drove off.

I got home having decided I wasn’t going to say a word to anyone, didn’t want to whine but my husband and son could see it written all over my face.

Looking for some sympathy I relayed my story – to their amusement.

Their response was laughter and the comments along the line of “Did it occur to you that nobody wants your old stuff?”

Obviously nobody does !!!

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