Thanks, Mrs. Stone

At the end of my first day of fourth grade, I remember looking intensely at my new teacher, Mrs. Smith. She asked me what I was doing and I replied “I know my mom is going to ask about you so I want to make sure I get the description right.” She burst out laughing. That’s the first time I remember trying to make an adult laugh and having it work. Perhaps because of that, the main lessons I recall from that year were from Mrs. Smith really taking an interest in, and trying to nurture, my sense of humor. She told me it looked like I was lucky enough to be funny, and I should consider it a gift; that it was extremely easy to get a laugh at someone else’s expense but to do so would be taking the low road and a waste of that gift. Instead, I should work on developing a sense of humor that was never mean-spirited, and if I could do that it was going to make my life easier in all sorts of situations, and maybe help those around me too. Let me tell you, I’ve encountered several people who owe a debt of gratitude to Mrs. Smith because I’ve had a hilarious insult for them but it never crossed my lips because her voice was loudly ringing in my ears.

The other thing I remember about the fourth grade is the semester I went on a homework strike and how much trouble I got in for it, but that’s another story. Just know if you ask me if I’ve finished my work and I reply “Yes and no.” that means I haven’t done it, but I have no intention of doing it, and therefore I’ve moved on with my day.

Anyway, back to this story. My grandmother had all sorts of jewelry that various family members selected and inherited when she passed. My mom wound up with some pieces that were a little over the top that she never wore, and my family and I decided I should see if I could sell them for a decent price when I was in New York City last month.

I set up appointments at three businesses that specialized in buying estate jewelry, all in the Diamond District. The first place was in a large, bright, professional office suite. After waiting in the front lobby and being offered all manner of drinks by the receptionist, I was ushered to a room by a gentleman who was their purchaser. He offered me a staggering amount of money for the jewelry, but he was going to melt everything down. In fact, the floor was piled with large mishappen ingots of silver and gold he’d already made. I flashed back to my childhood. My grandmother had taken over one of the guest bedrooms in her house with some of her things. There was a closet with furs, and an entire dresser filled with scarves, formal gloves, purses, sunglasses, and every type of jewelry you could imagine. My sister and I loved to sneak in there and dress my sister up to the hilt, transforming her into her fabulous alter ego, Gloria Glitter. Being sentimental, I couldn’t bear the thought of destroying Grandma’s jewelry and depriving some future child of such joy, so I pressed on to the second place.

That establishment was in a small, windowless space with all sorts of non-jewelry items for sale, and one of the employees was on the phone fighting with someone and it sounded like he was trying (and failing) to defend some unscrupulous activities this business had done. I noped on out of there as fast as I could. But before I left, he offered me a fraction of the price the first place had, and when I started packing up my stuff to leave he doubled it, but said if I walked out the door that offer would be gone, and then as I was walking out the door he doubled his offer again. That was a hard no.

The third place I went to was another lovely professional office suite and they insisted I take some water (what is it about beverages for these people?) They had an estimator come in specifically to meet with me. He took his time looking at and appreciating each piece. He measured and weighed and inspected with magnifiers and used chemicals to verify the type of gold and it was fascinating to watch. The good news was this company was going to resell the jewelry as jewelry, no melting it down, but the bad news was he offered me quite a bit less money than the first place. I let him know the other quote I’d been given that he was up against and he said he’d need to talk to his business partner to see what they could do.

The partner came in and the estimator I’d been working with talked him through each piece of jewelry and why he felt the price I was asking was, in fact, reasonable. He really advocated for me. The partner said “I don’t know. It’s such a gamble. What if we can’t resell the jewelry for that amount and we take a loss? It makes me very nervous.” I replied, “That’s not a problem. When I checked into my hotel yesterday, I saw my room had a safe so I put the jewelry in there. When I took it out this morning I discovered a previous guest had left quite a bit of Xanax in the safe and I’d be happy to bring it to you and then you won’t have to be nervous.” There was an uncomfortably long pause and then they both burst out laughing. The estimator later told me that was the perfect thing to say. Apparently, I hit on some sort of inside joke and it made the partner agree to my price! I immediately thought of Mrs. Stone. I suspect she’s been right many times over about a little humor easing the way, but this was the first time I’ve ever been aware of monetizing it. So thanks, Mrs. Stone.