Honest Answers I Wish I Could Give The People Trying To Buy My Furniture

It’s officially the crunch time of my move to Denver. My goodbye parties are planned, the U-Haul is reserved, and my apartment is barren, save for all the boxes of my shit that I packed too early and am now living out of. I’m down to the last item on my pre-move checklist – selling the last of my furniture. Should be easy, right? With Facebook Marketplace, LetGo, OfferUp, and dozens of other apps to help me sell my shit, I figured this would be a breeze. But I made a mistake. One I’ve made time and time again. I forgot to account for how stupid people are.

For every item I’m trying to sell, I get tens of inane, confusing, and downright ridiculous questions. Questions I’ve been trying to answer honestly and thoughtfully. But that’s not how I want to answer them. Here’s what I wish I could say.

“I’m interested in buying this for $15.”

What I wanted to say:

Too fucking bad. It’s listed at $50 because I want to sell it at $50. It’s a big-ass dresser. Sure, it’s a little banged up, but that’s why I’m selling it for 50 bucks and not the $200 I paid for it. And if you think I won’t drag it down to the alley behind my place and leave it there for zero dollars before I give it you for $15, you don’t know me at all.

What I did say:

Unfortunately, I’m holding firm at $50. Thank you for your interest.

“Do you have more pictures?”

What I wanted to say:

Bro, it’s a dresser, not a car. I have a picture from the front, the back, the side, and inside one of the drawers. What more do you want? Is the lighting not good enough for you? Do you want to see what it would look like if you were a mouse hiding underneath it? WHAT DO YOU WANT?

What I did say:

What pictures would you like me to take?

“What is the brand and model?”

What I wanted to say:

Well, the brand name is “Fifty Dollar” and I believe the model is “Dresser.” It’s a fifty-dollar dresser. If you want brand name shit, go to a brand name store. This isn’t Noam’s Discount Furniture Outlet. It’s just my old shit. I can tell you it’s black, and it has six drawers. I could probably even tell you the dimensions if you let me find a measuring tape. That’s the maximum amount of information I have.

What I did say:

I think I bought it at Walmart? I don’t know the model name, unfortunately.

“Do you have the original receipt and do you know if it’s still under warranty?”

What I wanted to say:

Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s a 10-year-old beanbag chair. Do you keep receipts from shit you bought when you were a teenager? Because I sure don’t. Warranty? Where do you think we are? This is Facebook Marketplace, not fucking Nordstrom. The warranty is that I’m selling an old-ass beanbag chair for fifty bucks. If you somehow manage to break it, you’re out fifty bucks. That’s the warranty.  However, I don’t think it can be damaged, considering I threw it off a three-story balcony in my last move, and also because it’s a literal sack of stuffing. Unless you stab it with a sword, you’ll be fine. Stabbing it with a sword voids the warranty.

What I did say:

It was a gift, so unfortunately, I don’t have the receipt. I doubt it’s under warranty, but it’s pretty indestructible haha.

“Does it come in a different color?”

What I wanted to say:

Are you…are you asking me if I’ll buy a paint of your choosing and repaint this dresser for you to purchase for FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS?! Or do you think that I have multiple versions of the same dresser in my home? Do you know I’m not a furniture store? I can’t tell if you’re an asshole or an idiot, but I hate you. I hate you.

What I did say:

No, just black.

“Can I use it as a couch?”

What I wanted to say:

My dude, you can use it as whatever the fuck you want. That’s the great thing about owning something. The second you put that fifty dollars in my hand, you can do literally anything with that beanbag chair. You want to use it as a couch? Fuck yeah, that is it’s preferred use. You want to use it as a dinner table? It’ll get messy, but I don’t care. You want to draw eyes and a mouth on it and cut a hole in the back because you’re sexually attracted to hippos and you’ll be using it as a sex doll? You can absolutely do that, the second you get it out of my apartment. I could not care less. Just pay me my money and never talk to me again.

What I did say:

Absolutely! It’s very comfortable!

“Can it hold all of my clothes?”

What I wanted to say:

Ok, you’re fucking with me. You’re fucking with me, right? You have to be fucking with me. Do you think I know how many clothes you have? You do know I don’t know you, right? How in the name of fuck would I know how to answer this?

What I did say:


Maybe it’s just me, but if I’m buying something used for less than a $100, it’s a “you get what you see” situation. I’m not doing research into the product. I’m not trying to form a special bond with it. It is what it is. Unfortunately, it would appear that I’m the only person on earth that feels this way. Fuck it, I’m just tossing all my shit in the alley. At least the rats that nest in it will be grateful.

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