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I only do a couple of SciFi conventions a year, selling off some stuff, and the one in my home town is the biggest (40,000 visitors).
More visitors doesn't equal bigger sales, though.
Yet again, people ask the most interesting questions.
Like "why does this cost money, why is it so expensive?"
It's a philosophical and economics question, you may think, but in most cases it's not so highbrow.
So you explain "it's a toy that's 40 years old, still in the box, and rather rare."
"Yeah, but why does it cost $80?"
This kind of kills the conversation for me. I used to try and explain it: "An old painting also costs more money, right?"
They just stare back, waving a crisp 10 euro bill, and expecting me to come down about 85%....
Vintage stuff seems to be in a deep depression, you can't give away vintage SW. You either find a customer looking for case fresh, C-10 stuff, or people asking silly questions. They'll ask to see all of the parts, they inspect them, and you know they're just there to browse "museum style" with no intention of buying.
This time, during my rare bathroom break, my friend says I need to come back immediately.
I run back, and a guy "wants to see the person in charge".
He then asks me: "You had a Leia on Jedi card, and now it's gone!"
"Yeah, I sold it."
"I have had my eye on that figure for three years now, and I assumed you would never sell it. And now it's gone."
I already had diarreah before I met this guy, and it didn't get any better after this sparkling banter. I left. He continued talking to my co-worker for 45 minutes.
I think I've come to the point when I can no longer stand these long debates. Conventions that have become so big that most of your customers aren't diehard collectors who know their stuff, but "browsers", spending a lazy afternoon looking at weird dolls.
"What is this figure?" they ask.
"Devilman."
"Ah. I know nothing about this. Can you tell us what it is about?"
Yeah, tell us the story, wise old man....
My "fondest" memory, etched in my mind, is when a woman dressed as Wonder Woman came over. She was about 150 pounds too much Wonder. I mean, excess Wonder was overflowing her tiny costume. She came over to my booth, leaned over the table to check something out, and both breasts decided they couldn't take it anymore and bailed out. Right on top of my carded SW figures. "Meesa totally crushed", I heard Jar Jar sigh. She scooped up her bare breasts and stuffed them back into her outfit. And continued browsing. I think I lost most of my vision in my left eye after that.
I'm getting told for this s***...
This was my last booth, I tell you.
More visitors doesn't equal bigger sales, though.
Yet again, people ask the most interesting questions.
Like "why does this cost money, why is it so expensive?"
It's a philosophical and economics question, you may think, but in most cases it's not so highbrow.
So you explain "it's a toy that's 40 years old, still in the box, and rather rare."
"Yeah, but why does it cost $80?"
This kind of kills the conversation for me. I used to try and explain it: "An old painting also costs more money, right?"
They just stare back, waving a crisp 10 euro bill, and expecting me to come down about 85%....
Vintage stuff seems to be in a deep depression, you can't give away vintage SW. You either find a customer looking for case fresh, C-10 stuff, or people asking silly questions. They'll ask to see all of the parts, they inspect them, and you know they're just there to browse "museum style" with no intention of buying.
This time, during my rare bathroom break, my friend says I need to come back immediately.
I run back, and a guy "wants to see the person in charge".
He then asks me: "You had a Leia on Jedi card, and now it's gone!"
"Yeah, I sold it."
"I have had my eye on that figure for three years now, and I assumed you would never sell it. And now it's gone."
I already had diarreah before I met this guy, and it didn't get any better after this sparkling banter. I left. He continued talking to my co-worker for 45 minutes.
I think I've come to the point when I can no longer stand these long debates. Conventions that have become so big that most of your customers aren't diehard collectors who know their stuff, but "browsers", spending a lazy afternoon looking at weird dolls.
"What is this figure?" they ask.
"Devilman."
"Ah. I know nothing about this. Can you tell us what it is about?"
Yeah, tell us the story, wise old man....
My "fondest" memory, etched in my mind, is when a woman dressed as Wonder Woman came over. She was about 150 pounds too much Wonder. I mean, excess Wonder was overflowing her tiny costume. She came over to my booth, leaned over the table to check something out, and both breasts decided they couldn't take it anymore and bailed out. Right on top of my carded SW figures. "Meesa totally crushed", I heard Jar Jar sigh. She scooped up her bare breasts and stuffed them back into her outfit. And continued browsing. I think I lost most of my vision in my left eye after that.
I'm getting told for this s***...
This was my last booth, I tell you.
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