As if the universe was sending us a pat on the back for learning the lesson from Attila the Hun, our sale of the sideboard, our very last piece, was the exact opposite experience. Though our nerves were still shaky, we had the resolve of steel to make sure this sale went smoothly. The good news is that we didn’t need the resolve.
It was one of those dream sales.
Only a week or so after our Attila experience, we received what appeared to be two serious emails, both on the same day, about our beloved sideboard. We were thrilled though a bit confused, but finally realized they were from a husband and wife, neither of whom knew that they were both writing to us. Once we got that minor snag straightened out, the rest was easy.
The husband was the one who wanted the sideboard. He’d been searching for months for the perfect piece of furniture to use as a bar in their home. They’d been redecorating for some time, keeping with an Italian/Tuscany theme, so our dark old piece fit in perfectly.
We loved the contrast that it was the most expensive piece we’d had for sale, yet he didn’t argue with us at all. He simply loved it, knew exactly what he wanted, and had a plan for it, a vision in his mind’s eye. It was a clear heart connection. He didn’t mind any of the wear and tear, rather he thought it added character.
Not only did he make an appointment for the very next evening, he came prepared with a decent-sized truck, blankets, and tie-downs. He did ask if we’d be able to help him load, as he couldn’t arrange to bring anyone else on that short a notice. Little did he know he was dealing with two moving aces.
On arrival and after introductions, he looked at the piece, we discussed its history for maybe five minutes, he handed us the full price in cash, and we started loading. The whole process till he drove away, including chat time, took no more than thirty minutes.
And not only did he take the sideboard, he took a beautiful old gold flowerpot we’d had for sale for months. It had a very Tuscany look, so we thought it would work perfectly in his house. He agreed. We’d sold yet one more item.
Together we all lifted the top part of the sideboard off and set it aside. He was concerned that we wouldn’t be able to lift the heavier bottom half with him, but he had no idea of how often we had moved that piece.
Walking backwards wearing our flip-flops, we high-stepped, carefully avoiding the buckled concrete on our root-entangled driveway, easily carrying our half. We lifted it up into the truck with him and by the time he had gotten it tied down, we’d already come back out with the top section. He was surprised and impressed. We just laughed.
We were thrilled. He was thrilled. And isn’t that the way life should be?