You’ve all seen the millions of adverts on TV offering to buy your old unwanted gold (What? Maybe they’re aimed at dragons who need new bedding material?) for ‘the best price’.
Would it surprise you if I told you the companies you see are spending vast sums of money on advertising? Would it surprise you more if I then said they have to make that back through offering you crap prices on your gold?
I’m pretty sure even you ‘Merkins, Dutchies and Croats will be subject to the same kind of adverts, so we can all relate on this one.
Anyway, I just popped in (did I just say “Popped in”???) to the local cash-for-gold money shop type place – not because I’m a crack-head selling my nephews toys, before you ask – to find two lovely old ladies hunched up at the desk window talking to the cashier.
Twenty minutes later the hideous old biddy fucks were STILL there, evidently going through every single damned piece of gold they’d ever managed to steal in their 476 miserable piss-stinking years, including 3 boxes of Terry’s All Gold and 2 boxes of Frosties Lucky Charms.
Each time the girl behind the counter (who at least was nice to look at whilst I was there, sweating in my leathers), would bite their necklace or whatever they do and give them a price that they’ll buy it for.
The Old Biddies would then reply “Oooh no! We bought that in Jersey for £159 and that was half price! We won’t do it for £40!” and variations thereof.
Right. Number 1, you’re selling your gold AS SCRAP. Nobody gives a kippers dick if it was your fifth husbands prized gold penis plug – it weighs x amount so you get the set sum of cash for it. Yes, this is low. Yes, this is a rip-off. Serves you right for stealing your Aunt Mabel’s ring collection when she died and trying to sell them.
Number 2: If you’re getting shitty offers for the first 400 items you’ve asked them about, there’s every chance you’ll get similar shitty offers for the next 9041 items you hand over. I would have LOVED to hear this:
“We paid nearly £500 for that from a decapitated Jew who told us it cost four times that if you tried to sell it on the 5th of May in Siberia.”
“Ooh we’ll give you £650 for that one!”
So after accepting the total offer of £60 for the very first two items they’d shown (I’m not bitter at all), they eventually doddled off to go down the Doctors office or whatever else Old Biddies do when the sun isn’t out.
Despite my inner ranting, I stood there very calmly and very still. OK, so mainly this was so I didn’t sweat to death, but that’s besides the point. Ranting in your own head or at traffic is perfectly fine and normal. Umm, right?
The middle-aged man who came in behind me (after I’d been waiting 20 minutes, I should add) didn’t seem to get this idea.
He paced around, loudly tutting and saying stuff under his breath every time a new bracelet was passed over such as “Oh God!” and something that sounded like “For cooks sake!”.
At least I’m only rude in my head.
Oh, and one thing that did make me laugh… as the Old Biddies were hobbling out into the warm Spring air wearing three thick coats each, one said to the other:
“Isn’t it getting warm in here?”