I told Wren I was mentally tapped out. Then, in the same breath, I launched into a whole new shiny thing. If that doesn’t tell you everything about how my brain works, nothing will. (More on Wren, my super hero, later.)
Mac Bid is an ongoing obsession. For the uninitiated: it’s an online auction site for overstock, open-box, and “we don’t know what’s in this box but good luck” merchandise. You bid from your phone. You win things for absurd prices. Then you drive to a warehouse and pick up your treasures like a troll collecting shiny objects.
Today’s treasure: a kid’s mountain bike. Retail $138. I paid $20. Twenty dollars! For a whole new bike!
Here’s the thing about auction sites and a brain like mine: it’s not shopping. It’s gambling with extra steps and better rationalizations. The dopamine doesn’t come from the bike. The bike is almost incidental. The dopamine comes from watching the countdown, from being the highest bidder, from winning for less dollars than other people had to expend. I am not buying a bicycle. I am winning a tiny war against strangers on the internet, and the prize happens to have two wheels.
The rationalization engine kicks in immediately, of course. It’s for my kid. I saved $118. He seriously does need a new bike. He’s nine years old and still riding the a single speed kindergartener bike. That’s practically making money if you don’t think about it, and I have chosen not to think about it.
Then comes the pickup. You drive to the warehouse. I’m fortunate enough to have two warehouses within twenty a twenty minute drive or less. You enter through the sliding doors, scan your personal barcode at the front desk and then you wander through the aisles of cast offs, returns, overstocks and broken stuff until you find your aisle. It’s a decent system, and I usually find my stuff within minutes. Then, you pull it off the shelf and check out at the exit. There’s usually a wait, while you stand in line with all the other trolls, everyone clutching their phones, eying your prizes. Occasionally, you’ll actually run into a person that you were fighting with for a thing, and they admit this to you. You bond briefly over the fight that you two had, smile, and move on with the warm fuzzy feeling of DOMINANCE. There’s a camaraderie to it. Nobody here paid retail. We’re all in on the same secret.
Before I go on, I need to be honest – there’s a catch. The catch is that sometimes you’ll be the ultimate winner, and sometimes you’ll fail miserably and be sad. Example – I got a new monitor for $2 and I was pumped! But I didn’t notice that it was a damaged return. The screen was cracked. I picked it up. I stared sadly at the monitor I couldn’t use, and then paid to recycle it. Moral of the story – don’t go all crazy. You might end up with a cracked Le Creuset Dutch Oven, and be heart broken.
Anyway, back to the chaos. When I got to Row 24 where my bike was supposed to be, I found that apparently Walmart decided to liquidate all of their clearance bikes, and dumped them all on Mac Bid. 90% of them are in perfect condition! I saw one without a seat, but WHO NEEDS A BIKE SEAT ANYWAY?
Anyway. I found my kid’s bike in perfect new condition. I put it into my car, drove home, and gave it a once over. And then… nothing. The quest was complete. The dragon was slain. The bike was ready to ride. What do we do next?
Ah, yes. Now what? The high of the win carries you through pickup and assembly, adjustments and topping off the tires. You even present your kid with his new shiny toy, and delight while he rides up and down the street like a boss on his big kid bike. You look on, standing in your driveway holding a wrench, wondering why you’re so tired.
I want to blast that nervous fatigue in its fat face by nurturing some other thought I have in my head, but alas – I need to cook dinner. I know I’ll be back at Mac Bid within weeks, if not days, though – until all projects are done. See you at the next auction! Hopefully I finally win a laundry sink and a butcher block counter top.
