To sell a teapot

I was working at Surplus Sam’s the other day and I was having a great time. Because one of the full-time cashiers left, Austin asked me to work upstairs as a cashier and doing customer service, something I was more than happy to do. I love talking to people and helping them, and I discovered something else: I love selling them things.
Honestly I can sell stuff at Surplus Sam’s in good conscience: I truly believe that the prices are good, and the store carries merchandise that is one-of-a-kind and would be hard to find elsewhere. Something for everyone, I tell them.
My remarkable sales of the day included convincing a lady to buy a broken hammock because it was a good deal and easy to fix; and convincing an old man to buy 50 yards of white leather so he could upholster all his furniture to match another chair we were selling.
But the last sale of the day was the best. I had been sorting through a showcase and found a teapot and sugar bowl set hiding behind some other dishes. Jonny and I had moved furniture around that day and put a stone table in the middle of the room. I put the teapot and sugar bowl on the table along with some other sets of plates and cups. It was a lovely teapot; a gold handle and lid, with bright blue and orange and yellow patterns of an ocean scene. The sugar bowl was a little different but also beautiful (albeit in a garish sort of way). It was an expensive set, too: the price on the bottom of the bowl was $93.74. Who on earth pays that much for a teapot, anyway?
A slimy sort of guy came in just before closing and was trying to convince me to buy loose leaf tea from him. I was behind the counter and his eyes lit on the teapot.
“How much is that?” he asked.
“It’s $93.00 for the set.” I told him. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Ninety three dollars!!!!” he exclaimed. “What’s it made out of, gold?”
I talked up the teapot for awhile and he carried it over to where I was at the counter and was looking at it.
“I don’t want the sugar bowl.” He said. “Can’t I buy just the teapot?”
I considered it for a moment. I knew we weren’t really supposed to split up sets, but the sugar bowl did look kind of different, and after all, I was sure I could sell it.
“Okay.” I finally agreed. “I’ll sell it to you for 2/3 the price…. Which is a pretty good deal. $61.00 plus tax.”
He opened the lid and saw there was a little chip in the rim.
“It’s damaged! Can’t I have it cheaper?”
I hadn’t noticed the chip and probably would’ve already discounted it further if I had…
“No, that’s already a pretty good deal.” I told him. “Look at what an amazing teapot it is! You can probably get matching cups off of ebay.”
I tried to convince him a bit longer but he finally put it down.
“I don’t want it.”
Another man came in and the two of them started looking at cameras in the display case where I was. I turned to the second man.
“Yes, that camera is a pretty good deal. But what you really need is this teapot. Take a look at it. The shape, the bright blue and the gold. Tell me, where would you find another teapot like that? It’s one of a kind. I myself was thinking of buying it today. What, with my staff discount, it’s a pretty decent price. Someone’s going to snap this one up real soon.”
He started to laugh.
“So, if I get that teapot, will it make me more popular with the ladies?”
“Well,” I said, “ I’m already taken, but if I wasn’t, and you had that teapot, I’d definitely go after you.”
The first guy picked the teapot up again.
“All right, I’ll buy it.”
I gloated as I rang up his sale. I gloated as I wrapped it up for him and he went out the door $68.00 poorer. I gloated as I closed up for the day.
Seriously, what an amazing sales woman! I sold a garish teapot for $68! And I still had the sugar bowl to mark up and sell the next day!
It was probably because of my exceptional talking abilities, my extraordinary communication skills, my way with people, my knack for seeing what things were worth and just what people needed and wanted. I smiled all the way home and as I recounted the story to my sister.
The next morning I came into Surplus Sam’s.
“Where’s that little sugar bowl I put here?” I asked Austin. “I sold the teapot yesterday and I’m going to price it separately.”
“Oh, the blue teapot?” He asked. “Heather, that wasn’t a set.”
“It wasn’t?” I asked.
“No, they don’t go together. They are both Versace pieces and they’re really expensive. The sugar bowl is $93.74 by itself.”
I suddenly felt as if the giant balloon that was my ego had been deflated.
“How much was the teapot?” I asked in a small voice.
“We’d marked it down to $270.00 because it had a chip in it. The original price was way more.”
“You’re kidding me.” I said. “The teapot was HOW much?”
And suddenly I didn’t feel like the world’s best saleswoman anymore. I had just sold a $270.00 Versace teapot for $68.00. And that man had walked out of the store and I had thought I was something special but actually he was the one who had got the good deal that day. I felt like I had been stung. Perhaps I should donate the next 3 days of labor to Surplus Sam’s. Perhaps Austin would want to fire me. Perhaps I should offer to forgo my lunch breaks for the next week.
And so I learned an important lesson that I should’ve learned before. It seems that it is a repeat lesson, one that takes the shape of a broken-down Volvo and a Versace teapot and I suppose whatever other object God would like to use to teach me the lesson. Pride goes before a fall, and the more I allow my pride to get inflated, the bigger the fall is going to be. Pride is expensive, I have been told.