#and i came here to VIBE not run customer service for my hobby

[dreameasel]

REMINDER!! as I'm clawing my way out of my own open grave that I beg you to at least SKIM my LORE DOC since i make MASSIVE changes to the lore of the whole universe he lives in. like the name and location of the school are now different okay, i've mixed it up a bit and i put a lot of effort into it. I learned about fucking connecticut for this. If i see someone say nevermore in a thread i'm gonna lose it and just stop talking to them completely.

[thepheonixesorphanage]

30 Day OC Challenge

So my friends and I decided to do a 30 OC Challenge just for fun! I’ve decided to post the first 10 days here. Feel free to read and give me any feedback. I’d love criticism or comments on what you think of them. Very much looking to improve on my writing.

Days 1-10 below the cut. 

DAY 1: Introduction

Elliot was red. She was cherry lollipops and red vans. Her skin was tan and freckled like constellations, but inside she was burning a dark red that was hot to the touch. Her personality singed skin and left marks that you wanted to show off. With determination and confidence, she owned herself and didn’t let anyone forget that. She was a touch of spice you didn’t know you wanted until you got a taste. And it burned. But oh was it just right. Elliot Katherine Demarco. Even her name rolled off the tongue like waterfalls crashing onto rocks, or the sheathing of a newly forged blade. She was the jump out of an airplane, the start of an avalanche, the build up of adrenaline, and you couldn’t get enough.

June was just as June as her name portrayed her to be. She was vibrant in an array of colors only she could see and outgoing like a bird eager to take flight. She was dark skinned with soft edges that made you want to get lost, with hair just as all over the place as she was. A standard unto her own that no one could take. Her mind was scattered, tangled in thought and question that never seemed to stop. She was warm summer nights that left imprints of curiosity and wonder, a desire unspoken on the tip of the tongue. Her dark brown eyes were filled with a never ending burst of excitement and fascination that you didn’t want to look away from. June was warm, sweet, intoxicating, and everyone craved more.

DAY 2: Job

Lulu’s Cafe was that small coffee shop in downtown San Francisco. It had a cute hipster vibe on the outside with a calm rustique charm on the inside that was always thriving during lunch time no matter the day. Lulu’s cafe was the place that attracted the young teens and hipster wannabes. Mason was made for Lulu’s. A coffee enthusiast, with a love for the simple things in life, and not to mention, a hipster girls wet dream. Mason was a doc martin’s, plaid shirt and leather jacket kind of guy, complete with a close shave and thick, wavy, brown hair.

The customers loved Mason. His customer service routine was equipped with big smiles, laughter, and pleasant conversations between him and the guests. This is what made him so good at his job. Everything he did was genuine. But that’s the kind of guy Mason was. Lulu’s was happy to have Mason, and Mason was happy to have Lulu’s.

Monty’s theater was a fifty plus year old theater in the heart of San Francisco with the charm of a typical grandmother’s home. The type of home with a bowl of strawberry candies and pillow mints that no one knew where they came from or how long they had been there for. The theater smelt of fresh popcorn and at times, the vague lemony scent of furniture polish. As anything over fifty years would be, it was falling apart, with its fading carpet that looked like it belonged in a blockbuster video store, and cabinets that were barely hanging on to its last nail. Even though the theater was a bit “outdated”, to Kam, it was home. Or at least a second home. He had become close friends with the people he worked with and enjoyed his time there. Even though the pay wasn’t the best, Kam treasured the small theater for the people he met and the coworkers he had befriended, and goddammit, he knew he would be stuck there forever.

DAY 3: Hobbies

June spent 90% of her time with Jamie her best friend. At school, after school, before school, at home. They did everything from getting coffee to sleeping over to sneaking out at night. June typically had free range to do whatever she wanted when it came to her dad as long as it wasn’t illegal and she was home before 11pm. June often followed Jamie around after school. Instead of doing her homework she had taken to accompanying him to his improv practices in drama club on tuesdays and thursdays. Every other day, she spent the remainder of her time in her room either watching tv or “attempting” to do homework with Jamie. When Jamie was busy, June didn’t really know what to do besides watch TV or sit on the computer. Hobbies weren’t something she picked up on. Sure she didn’t mind reading but her attention span didn’t really allow her to sit for too long on one thing.

DAY 4: Family

Adopted from Hawaii just after birth, June was very much loved by her mother Stella and her father Aaron. Or so June thought. Four years later, June began to wonder how much her mother really loved her when she left them for another man and his family. Over the next 13 years, her mother kept in contact with her father but June wanted nothing to do with her. So much so she purposely went by June, the abbreviated form of her middle name Juniper, instead of her first name Stella; of course named after her mother. Just saying it was like vile in the back of her throat. June however, loved her father very much. He worked long and hard hours as an accountant to provide for her and gave her a wonderful life full of everything she could want and she saw that everyday when he came home from work with tired eyes. It was just the two of them, and that was how she liked it.

Two older brothers, one younger, her grandmother, a rather young mother and father, and of course, Elliot. The Demarco household was always full. Together Elliot and her family lived in a tiny trailer park that barely housed the lot of them but nonetheless, they made it work. There was never a dull moment. Noah and Liam, the two oldest fought over the dumbest of things. “Those are my fucking socks!” Liam would shout. “We have the same fucking pair!” Noah would shout back. Their mother would simply shake her head. The youngest Ben was always going on about the latest fad or interest. One week would be painting, the next would be basketball. Her grandmother, Camille, hogged the one tv they owned in the living room, always watching TLC or HGTV. Between that, or talking to her friend Janice on the landline from her weekly knitting club. John and Theresa, Elliot’s parents worked early in the morning and came home in the afternoon. Family time was important to them and even though they didn’t have a lot of money, they were happy. It was crazy and loud, and sometimes Elliot thought she’d go insane, but it was home nonetheless.

DAY 5: Friends

June was rather well known in school for her loud and funny personality. She didn’t care what people thought and loved making people laugh. She had a few people she might consider friends but they weren’t really the friends she went to for things or asked to hangout with on a daily basis. Jamie however, was her best friend. Like her, he too, didn’t care what anyone thought and just like her, had a big mouth, except he didn’t have a filter. They were the comedy duo of Ulysses Memorial High School. Jamie was openly gay and proud. He wore collared shirts buttoned at the top with pants in various patterns that changed depending on the day of the week. Every conversation he had usually consisted of, “So listen hoe,” or “Honey you did not?”, and 90% of the time, “Okay sunshine, calm down.” Sunshine was his nickname for June. No real reason in particular. Jamie happened to say it one day and it just stuck. He was the God of nicknames. June tried one day by calling him the “Full Moon” to her “Sunshine”.

“Are you calling me fat? Juniper Martell, calling her best friend full to his face. Okay hoe, I see.” Needless to say it didn’t catch on. Despite the terrible nickname, their friendship was like that of the sun and the moon. They both came with a strong force that brought them closer and no matter what came at them, they would always be there for each other.

It was Linda, Martin, Chris, Jack, and Elliot. Always together, anywhere in town, anytime of day. Besides school of course. Elliot shared a class with all of them except Martin, but they spent enough time outside of school that it didn’t matter. Most of the time they could be found in The Main, a small part of town where a lot of the local businesses were located, one in particular being Fun Center USA, their favorite. Linda and Martin always competed for the top score on Space Invaders. This typically took hours with a small crowd joining in to see the new record. Jack talked to the girls that came in on friday nights, and when there were no girls dumb enough to feed into what he had to say, he hit up the arcade. Elliot and Chris went straight to the batting cages. There was nothing like the rush of the impact and the sting of the bat in their hands. Seeing the ball shoot across the field made Elliot’s adrenaline pump and they constantly fought to see who could hit the ball harder and farther. Chris always said it wasn’t a contest and didn’t matter, but Elliot liked to argue it was because he couldn’t admit to losing. Elliot wouldn’t say she was exactly close to them all, but as far as friends went, she guessed they were a pretty cool group to run the town with.

DAY 6: Guilty Pleasure

Elliot could spend hours upon hours watching TLC. She blamed her grandmother of course but like she said, “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink.” She was right of course, but Elliot wasn’t going to admit it. Cake boss was the shit. The cakes where beyond amazing. How in God’s name do they create these sculptures that you can EAT?! And the drama??? The show consumed her. She could care less whether it was real or not, that shit was entertaining. That and Four Weddings. Elliot never knew if she wanted to get married, or if she’d even get the option, but that didn’t stop her from rating other peoples weddings and seeing how terrible or great the night went. Some of the women on that show went all out spending thousands on a dress they’d only wear once, and the perfect venue they spend maybe five hours of their life at. Her favorites where the more bizarre brides. The ones with a halloween theme, or a batman themed wedding, or a fucking underwater theme. The list could go on. She would never outright tell anyone, but she had a soft spot for family and home channels.  

DAY 7: Casual Outfit

It was all bright colors for June. From yellow polka dotted pants to blue dresses to checkered skater skirts with bright purple tights. June’s closet looked like a rainbow exploded in her room. She accessorized with sparkly rings and necklaces that caught the light and large bangles that matched the days color scheme, if you could say she even had one. Her favorite shoes where a pair of basic black flats that buckled at the ankle and match anything and everything. Her go to pair for any outfit. June’s clothing was loud and bright just like her personality. It wasn’t a secret that she stood out in school, but if she was going to, she was going to own it.

Three pairs of ripped jeans, one nice for special occasions. Graphic tees galore. That was mostly what people gave up to thrift stores, but Elliot was happy to take them off their hands. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure right? Her favorite piece however, was her shoes. Red checkered vans, a birthday present from her parents. She wore them everywhere and anywhere. The only other pair was a beat up pair of off-brand black vans that she wore for when she was running out for something real quick. Elliot wasn’t one for accessories but she was always seen with a faded red backwards hat. It was against school dress code of course, but that didn’t stop her from carrying it along with her for when she decided to leave. Fashion and clothing wasn’t Elliots main focus. They were second handed and worse for wear, but her style was hers and no one could take that from her.

DAY 8: Formal Outift

Elliot was a same four outfits a week kind of person with only one formal outfit for whatever special occasion it called for. If it weren’t for her mother, Elliot would roll up to a wedding with ripped jeans and faded graphic tees, unfortunately her mother nagged to the point they spent a whole day at Goodwill and various other thrift stores looking for the perfect outfit. After trying on a skin tight, yellow mini dress, and a pant suit that made her look like she belonged in a Michael Jackson music video, Elliot found pants that just so happened to work perfectly with the top and shoes her mother found. Everything about the outfit was perfect. The pants were a navy blue with matching suspenders. The fabric stretched ever so slightly fitting the curve of her hips and buttoning at the waist. The top was a white and navy blue striped button up that Elliot tucked into the pants and rolled the sleeves to just below the elbow. The top was soft and lay perfectly over her shoulders, dipping into the curve of her waist, accentuating her feminine figure as the suspenders gave her a hint masculinity to the outfit. It was subtle but much needed addition to the outfit. Elliot felt beautiful and confident and thought maybe this wasn’t so bad afterall.  

DAY 9: Spirituality

June had been raised in a non-denominational church her whole life. Her father was a deacon at a reasonably big church a few miles downtown, and June participated in the choir like she had been doing since she was ten. She was religious, but when she discovered she was attracted to girls, she wasn’t so sure anymore. It’s not that she instantly decided God wasn’t real, but most christians preached such things as sin and that you’d end up in hell. Her church had never preached against it, it was just never really...brought up? June believed in Heaven and Hell, she believed in God, but to her something didn’t add up. Her father was a very religious man. Not the kind to drill the word of God into sinners of the world, just one proud to be Christian and expressed that through crocheted pillows and inspirational wall art. One day June would tell her father how she felt, but not for a while. Maybe when she went off to college? Or moved out of state? Or when the people of Earth decided to colonize Mars? Whichever came first.

Elliot’s family wasn’t the religious type. If anything, they’d call themselves agnostic. They knew something had to be out there, but what exactly, they didn’t know. The Demarco’s were quite possibly the most open minded and non-judgmental family anyone could meet. Elliot had come out to her family when she was thirteen. When she told her parents she thought she liked girls, her dad responded with a handshake and a, “Welcome to the club!” The oldest brother Liam responded with, “Wait, so you’re a fa-” but didn’t get to finish before their grandmother slapped the shit out of him, and never again did Liam say another word like that again.

DAY 10: Broken Temper

Mason was a calm type of mad. Not much angered him. Some days he didn’t get enough sleep, skipped coffee, or just wasn’t in the mood. When he was like this he mostly kept to himself. Slight nods, silent treatments, snappy answers. Kam knew not to bother him too much on days like that. Kam had seen Mason truly angry only once. The day began with much begging and a million please’s as Kam finally talked Mason into going to a free concert at a downtown bar. It was open to the public with local performers playing throughout the night. Everything was fine until Mason left to use the restroom and came back to find a man pushing himself on Kam. With a beer in one hand and the other holding on tightly to his shoulder, Mason’s expression changed in a heartbeat. The man leaned in close to talk to Kam, who in return, looked very uncomfortable. Mason knew Kam was too nice to tell him to leave him alone. He was about to politely pull Kam away, until the stranger moved his hand down the small of his back before pushing himself onto him. Mason was there in seconds, shoving the man off Kam. Mason’s voice was loud and harsh. “Hey, get the fuck off of him!” Mason could smell the alcohol on his breath, clearly drunk. “Fuck you man! You don’t own him!” He retaliated, stepping up to Mason who had a good few inches over him. Mason had him by the collar when he felt a light tug on his shirt. He turned around to see Kam holding on, his eyes soft and pleading. Mason turned back to the guy and let go, taking Kam by the hand and leading him out without another word. His grip was tight and firm as he made a beeline for the door. Kam’s only thought after that night was to see aggressive Mason more often.

No one could stop Elliot when someone made her mad. This isn’t the complaining and cursing about life and dumb people type of mad, but the type that actually made her snap. It wasn’t a surprise when people heard that Elliot was caught in a fight at school. Guys liked to test her and push her buttons and Elliot damn well made sure they knew what they had gotten themselves into. 90% of Chris and Jacks responsibility as her friend was spent keeping her out of fights or, when they were too late, pulling her off the poor guy that decided to say the wrong thing to her.

Unfortunately Chris was absent the day Elliot had overheard a conversation between Caleb and his friends over another kid a seat away who could clearly hear every word they were saying. Elliot wasted no time walking over to tell him to “Shut the hell up!” This led to some words being passed back and forth before Elliot took her fist to his face, leaving the giant man baby, as she called him, on the floor, stunned. The end result was a broken nose and a fractured hand, which Elliot thought was well worth it. When questioned by the principal as to why she did what she did, she answered with, “Well maybe if he had left Tyler alone and not decided to call him a, ‘faggot little bitch who can shove a ruler up his ass’, to the entire cafeteria, then maybe I wouldn’t have.” Elliot said holding onto her hand, her voice harsh, brown eyes sharp.  

The principal sighed, rubbing her hand down her face. Elliot had gotten to know Mrs. Larsen really well over the past few years.

[tricityrevivals]

(Pictured: Our booth in our first and second flea & a photo of me Luke snapped on the ride home from our frustrating second flea market)

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Chapter 1.2: It’s called a Flea Market..not a Free Market

Flea Markets. Walking around a usually big lot looking for bargains. The good ones sell mostly antiques, salvage items, or collectibles. Others now have turned into a mall of sorts. You have food, games, desserts, retail clothing, electronics, bedding, fragrances, supplements, music, and almost always that one stand with a person just selling their services through brochures. On the upside, Flea Markets have now turned into a family outting and I’m all for the youth of America learning the worth of a dollar and deal. Most of you would consider antiquing or attending flea markets a weekend hobby. We even enjoy attending flea markets as well, but now I’m going to give our take on the other side of the table. The vendors.

Vending at a flea market can be challenging, fun, or frustrating depending how much cash you come home with that day. It also depends on your expectations going into the day, and ultimately what type of buyers you have attending that day. Of course before you even step foot on the property you are paying whatever company is running the flea market a fee to be there. You should take this into account when choosing one. Fees Range from approximately $25 to as high as $200 per 10x10 space depending the location. Also you have to factor in gas and mileage you’re using to get there, as well as if you need to rent a truck or trailer for transport of your items. Most professionals usually have trucks or trailers already.

Now back to the buyers. Most of the pros will be there (if allowed) while your just pulling up and starting to unload. They want to be the first one to see everything available to them. This happened to us at our first flea. New to this area we turned around and asked the guy

“Can we help you?”

As he was standing over our shoulders looking in our trucks to see what we had.

“Just seeing what you have” he replied

He saw two stained glass windows we had for sale and asked

“How much?”

“150 for the pair”

“Ok I’ll take em”

Boom. First sale and we literally just pulled up two minutes ago. We looked at each other with the same idea in our heads- wow this is easy. We hadn’t even set up tables yet and were making sales.

The Tri-State area has some of the top rated Flea Markets in the Country. If you are a serious buyer you should attend these. To name a some - The Elephants Trunk in New Milford Connecticut, The Brimfield Antique Show in Brimfield Massachusetts, Golden Nugget Antique Market in Lambertville NJ, as well as about 3-4 in NYC and Brooklyn. If you are interested and seriously want to buy something Antique or Collectible you will find it here. You won’t find socks or cheap knockoffs here.

Back to our first flea. We decided to bring Courtney, Lukes Girlfriend of 9 years with us. We felt she would give off a good vibe and would make buyers feel comfortable talking and negotiating. She added a woman’s touch and had a good visual eye on where to place items to make it appealing for potential customers. We wanted them to see everything and need to come in and check our stuff out. Sometimes we can give off this mean vibe just by standing there and not even saying a word. We don’t get it, but for some reason we look intimidating to some. Admittedly, we aren’t the most outgoing people either. Courtney walked away from us turned around and looked at us and our space. She wwalked back over.

“Smile. You guys are mean muggin everyone who walks by’”

Oh great. Now that we know for sure we’re intimidating people away from our space we both put on the awkward 2nd grade fake smile when the photographer comes for school pictures. We weren’t intending on doing that I honestly think we just had soooo much stuff and there were influxes of people we were getting a little overwhelmed. That and we didn’t want to get anything stolen, we put a lot of time in selecting every single piece to bring that day. That obstacle was early on and we hurdled it pretty quickly.

After the first few hours it became slow. The big groups were disappearing and we had a lot of time to kill. At this point we made some money but nothing like we thought we’d make. We each took turns going for a walk and scouring the other booths to see what we were up against, and talk to the other vendors about how they’re doing. I am probably bias in saying this but I thought that our booth had the best stuff in this small flea market. I didn’t understand why we weren’t selling more. Everyone who came in our booth had the same reaction to how cool it was and what unique items we had. While walking around I ran into an elderly gentleman who had a sign right in front of his booth “It’s called a Flea Market not a Free Market”. I told him how I liked his sign and I was a vendor a few rows over. We started conversating about the crowd that day.

“These people think I’m just supposed to give this stuff away”

He showed me around his booth and showed me a few cool items with stories. I wasn’t interested in buying them but that didn’t stop him from trying to sell them to me. His prices were fair for a flea market but for me as a reseller there was no margin for money to be made. As I was walking away he said

“Listen, I’ve been doing this for over 40 years, it’s good for a few hundred bucks in your pocket every weekend but there’s no way to make a living doing this”

I heard him loud and clear. Although the day was still young and I still had hope, I wasn’t going to forget the words of a man who had this type of experience in these things.

When I got back to our booth, we had a conversation and decided lets start slashing prices. For most of the items we cut the price in half. Even with the prices slashed we could still make a great profit. That’s the art of picking. About 3-4 items we found in a dollar bin at a prior flea market we sold for $15-20 each. Those items true value is $15-20. We went out and dug through everything to find them, so we put in the legwork, knew what we could sell them for based off of research, and completed that job. If you think its just lucky or a risk to make a profit you’re wrong. If you learn more and more each day you can’t fail.

As the day continued the large groups started making more appearances. A lot of the stuff we were selling was free (given by my parents) or just stuff we’ve had laying around our houses for a while. In particular we has 2 pieces everyone would come up and rave over. 2 dressers, one was mine one was Luke’s we restored from the craigslist free curbside pickup. Everyone loved them, but there was one problem. Who the hell wants to buy a dresser and lug it home from a flea market? By the end of the day we got tons of compliments, but no cash in our pockets for them, thus we had to load em up and lug em back home.

The last hour finished and the final rush was over. We had a wad of cash and counted it. We made around $400. Not bad for our fist time. The guy 2 booths over said he made around $200 and next to him made around $150. I thought that was pretty impressive. We took this day as a start, something we could get better and better at. An overall success, but we werent happy. We had to do better.

Flash forward 3 weeks there was another flea in the same place. We said, ok lets go again, no bigger itema. We had just finished our first real pick so we had tons of inventory. Small and medium items worth a good amount. We packed up and headed back down. This time we were on a roll, we were getting better at this. Repeat customers were showing up and buying more things, asking for our business cards, and talking with us. We were developing relationships and Selling almost every time people came in our booth. There were no window shoppers this time around. Around 11am and only 3 hours in we saw some other vendors start packing up there booths.

“What’s going on?

“I dont know”

We went over to our friend vendor from the last flea

“Hey man why are you packing up everything ok?”

“Yeah, the rains coming, mine as well call it a day. No one comes out in the rain”

Shit. We decided were riding it out. Lets see how it plays out. Nonetheless, after about an hour and us being the only booth still stocked and ready to go, we realized, he was right. No one was coming. Time to call it a day. We made $450 surpassing what we did in a full day 3 weeks ago. We were bummed. It was such a good start, and such an abrupt end. Rain was not in the forcast that day. We packed up, soaked and miserable at a missed opportunity.

The hour ride home was silent for the first 20 minutes. Not a word said to each other. Upset, pissed off, and confused about why this happened. It wasn’t a waste of a day, but in a sense it was. Without any words spoken I know what we were both thinking. This isnt it. The old mans wise words were right. It’s a weekend gig. It’s a hobby. It’s an entire lot of lowballers. Its bargains. This is not us. This is not what we wanted for our future. Haggling, and explaining to someone the importance and story of an item to have them say “cool”, than walk away. Now trying doing that 20x in the same day. We had retail worthy items. We had stuff if we had a storefront that we could sell for triple what we were asking at that flea market. This wasn’t it, but as we’ve always said, this didn’t stop us going forward. There’s always another way. We had to figure out another way.

In the end, it was fun and it was an experience. We learned a lot and were able to meet and talk with some cool people. We hope the people who bought our stuff that day will enjoy it and pass on the story because that’s what its all about to us. Unfortunately though, as a vendor in a flea market, most people could care less about that story and let the price tag consume them. It’s not about that to us, and that’s why we haven’t set up shop at one since. Maybe in the future we will go back, and try another location, who knows, but for now we are sticking with our private buyers who enjoy our items much more.

#tricityrevivals #fleamarket #allairestatepark #nj #pickers #vendors