WWith the cost of living going through the roof, what better way to prepare for Christmas than by selling unwanted items to make some extra money? I decided to dip my toe into the murky waters of Facebook Marketplace. What could go wrong?
I've only experienced this platform as a buyer, but it's simple. You find an item you like, contact the seller, and agree on a time to go to the person's home with cash in hand and pick it up. Large items will be delivered by large vehicle. (Sorry, everyone who owns a ute.)
I knew very little about the other side. For sellers, Facebook Marketplace is crawling with bots, time-wasters, and (possibly) mischievous 12-year-olds. Just like Bart Simpson did Call Moe's Tavern from your landline.
Take the king-sized bed frame you had to get rid of after moving. People warn against listing something for free on the marketplace, so I set a nominal value of $25. List my suburbs. The dimensions are listed. It says pick up only. Cash only.
My messenger starts acting like a call center. I'm fine with getting 100 “Is this still available” messages (yes, in fact, that's why it's still on the list). But it's so cheap that it's frustrating for people who want to know if they can take it apart. There are millions of other questions.
Where is it? (It's on the list, my friend.) Can you deliver? Could you tell me the internal dimensions of the mattress? How much did the new one cost? Would you like $10 off? Five? Can I hold it until Tuesday, two days from now, so their uncle comes back from vacation and I can go to his house to pick it up? Airtasker will take it apart and make an appointment to pick it up. Can I leave it on while I'm doing it?
There are bots that bombard you with questions about shipping costs and dangerous links.
And some people want to come and see the goods, and you spend an hour arranging the best time just for them to ghost you. Or they come and talk to you for 30 minutes and then decide not to buy.
A friend was selling used uniforms for $30. A woman came to pick them up and handed them 10 and 20 sheets that had been torn in half and taped together.
“This isn’t legal tender,” my friend said.
The woman said, “I haven't had any particular problems using it.''
“If I had used it, I wouldn't have it anymore,” my friend replied. In the end, she gave the woman a uniform.
Another friend has been selling his deceased parents' furniture for the past year. She's full of stories like people who came in tiny cars to pick up 2-metre-high bookshelves with measurements on them. “That's happened to me a few times, so I started saying this in my ads: You need a vehicle that fits the product. See measurements.”
Maybe not everyone has a friend with a ute?
Or someone bought a bookshelf for $20, then messaged me later to ask if a small mark on the bookshelf was due to termite damage. “I said, 'This item belonged to my now deceased parents, so I can't provide you with the level of detail you're requesting.' They didn't message me again. did.”
Some buyers ask you 100 questions and say, “I don't care,” but in the meantime, you've sent them more messages than you've sent your mom in the past year.
And in a desperate attempt to contain it, some people casually say, “I'll go get it this week.”
Oh, wonderful. Just waiting for your call at home.
Or some people want to trade it for an item they don't need or want. No, thank you. I'm not going to accept your old trainer as a trade. I had to drive further to receive this, so I won't give you a discount. It already costs just $25. Oh, okay. Just take it.
I will endure. Stand the basketball hoop up. Size, pickup only, cash only. “Can you deliver it?'' “Can you disassemble it?'' “Will it work?'' “Can I buy just the backboard?'' “Is it appropriate for a 16 year old?'' “Paying by electronic transfer is Can you do it?”
Yes, it is still available.
