I headed right to the first clearance endcap in the Electronics section with my smartphone in hand and scanned a few of the products on my Amazon Seller app using some of the guidelines I'd heard on the podcast. Not much luck, either the price wasn't low enough, the item wasn't listed on Amazon, or the ranking was too low. Finally I scanned a Star Wars game controller charging station. Hm, I can get it for under $10 and sell for over $30? Highly ranked? Score! I wish there were more. Into the cart you go, you little moneymaker you.
So on I went from aisle to aisle looking for more, but after scanning about 30 more items and getting a sense of what would be a good fit, all I had to show was an elephant-adorned baby room curtain. My first "haul" consisted of two items costing less than $30. The voices in my head, who an hour ago were doing their best Braveheart impression had retreated. "See?" they admonished me. "If this worked, everybody would be doing it."
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| FREEDOM! No? No freedom? Alrighty then. |
A couple of rows of white tubes hung tantalizingly over my head. I hadn't seen any multiples of anything yet, so I was intrigued.
Udder cream?
Screw it, let's look it up.
Farm and Fleet price, $11.88. Amazon - $50? Really? And ranked within the top 100K? This is it! I excitedly started loading the tubes into my cart. About 6 bottles in I stopped. What in the actual fuck am I doing buying 10 tubes of udder cream? Let's think this through.
I compared the label to the Amazon listing. The price was in fact for a single bottle, same size. I examined the bottle for more red flags and found one almost immediately, the cap was broken off. That eliminated 6 of the 10 as they had the same problem. I double-checked the lid on the other four before continuing to second-guess myself. Expiration date? Still months away.
Suddenly I came to the realization that I had been standing in the aisle of a Farm and Fleet for the last 20 minutes examining udder cream.
On to the archery section, where I picked up an auger (and those of you who know what an auger is, which I did not, can pick out the problem with this), then a half dozen lightbulbs; the only ones not
restricted by Amazon. Finally I grabbed a couple of junior-sized footballs from the toy section and headed out with my random haul, wishing as the cashier scanned my three tubes of udder cream that Farm and Fleet had self-checkouts.
By the end of the afternoon I had listed, packed and shipped two boxes of my haul to the local Amazon warehouse, but not before making a little video, and luckily after realizing I had made some big mistakes.
The controller I bought at Target was now showing as "restricted" on my Amazon app due to the branding, as did my little elephant curtain. And my horse shaver wasn't on clearance after all; I had not checked my receipt and had paid full price. (Phrase I thought I'd never say: "I paid too much for a horse shaver.") So in addition to FedEx I hit the return counters. But I had a decent inventory to start.
Two days later I texted my mom a screen cap of my first Amazon listing. "Very cool," she said, possibly wondering why someone with a good job at a large financial institution would be excited about listing a single football for sale.
Two days after that my husband Jason and I were doing what we do: sitting on the sofa in our front room, drinking Manhattans, messing with our phones, and listening to records at a volume low enough to not wake our son upstairs, which isn't ideal when you're listening to Black Sabbath but you're gonna have to trust me that it's wedded bliss. Suddenly, my excited voice cut through Ozzy's.
I SOLD A LIGHTBULB!
"Good job babe!" Jason replied, not wondering at all why someone with a good job at a large financial institution would be excited about selling a single lightbulb.
By the end of the week I had sold 3 lightbulbs, two footballs and two jars of doggy-tear-stain-something-or-other, all for $84.
My next trip to Farm and Fleet got me a couple of thermostats but most of my casual sourcing fell short. That's ok, I thought, my lightbulbs are moving. I pictured trucks backing into my driveway with pallets of Chinese-manufactured lightbulbs from Alibaba, my wealth growing by three dollar increments with each sale. In a fit of inspiration I hit the Farm and Fleet website to see if they had any more in stock. They did, and at the clearance price! I bought enough to qualify for free shipping and sat back with the confidence of a woman who, in a week and three days, had figured out the system. I opened my Amazon app to crunch the numbers on my soon-to-be-flipped lightbulb haul.
Restricted?! What the fuck!
Remember when I said most of the bulbs at Farm and Fleet were restricted? Well whatever glitch allowed me to list the ones I sold had been fixed.
My illustrious life as a lightbulb magnate were over. With my seller arbitrage-expert tail between my legs, I placed a defeated phone call to Farm and Fleet customer service and afterward streamed another episode of the podcast. "Maybe I'll put together an online course or something," the voices consoled me.
My illustrious life as a lightbulb magnate were over. With my seller arbitrage-expert tail between my legs, I placed a defeated phone call to Farm and Fleet customer service and afterward streamed another episode of the podcast. "Maybe I'll put together an online course or something," the voices consoled me.
And then that thought that most all of us have had, possibly second only to "What did I say last night?"
"Maybe I'll start a blog."
"Maybe I'll start a blog."
