Vinted, round 2
I did well selling sheets at cost. I figure I paid the taxes, they paid the shipping. Everyone wins.
Now I’ve posted more shit. And it starts with the same old ridiculous negotiating.
I did work with the one girl who didn’t believe I paid $20 (I paid $19.99). She did say she intended to pay full price when her paycheck cleared.
I was nice. I “closed” my shop. Waited for her to message. Then I sent her an offer for $17. We both won.
But did I get a good review out of her? Nyet.
Now I am selling Cocoa’s and Kadie’s dresses.
This stuff has been in storage so I don’t really care much about it.
But still, one lady bartered me down to nothing and then had the audacity to say please hold these items till Wednesday.
Like, is this a racket? I never barter people down. And I would never say oh don’t sell it to anyone else while I wait around to pay you.
I literally spent all my proceeds on buying shipping bags and labels and shit so I can get rid of more shit.
The dress that got bartered down … well, someone else bartered me down too … and paid instantly. Oops, gone.
I remember selling stuff when I was desperate for cash. How I already felt like I had no value because I didn’t have a job. But then to be told basically your stuff that you cherish isn’t worth shit, either? Man that really fucked with me.
That said, I understand people not having two dimes to rub together. But these are $8 dresses they are bartering me down to $3 on. Not $20 for sheets and certainly not $50 for a book. (That book I sold for $30 and they claimed to have not gotten it so I had to refund them.)
Today, I don’t care so much about the amount I get. It’s nice to know Cocoa and Kadie will live on. Plus, these things smell like plastic anyway — Kadie died in 2017 and Cocoa in 2024.
Still. This is a full time job, dealing with people and listings and scammers.
The scammers are the worst. They got my home address and email so it’s been a real fucking riot reporting all that.
I’m starting to not hate myself for all the NWT shit I’ve donated over the years. Drop off a bag, drive away, no friction.
And now to go have to open Al Capone’s vault in Pittsburgh to get even more stuff that’s sat around even longer? Hoo boy.