






    The Art Of Dickering
                                         by Gary Bryant





        Sooner or later you're going to want something so  
    badly that you'll pay almost any price to get it. 
    Most of  the time we really don't care all that much 
    whether we get the thing or not. 

        At a garage sale, it often depends on the price. 
    So when you see a Victorian set of drawers that would  
    be a good  replacement for the set you borrowed from mom  
    and subsequently let fall from the U-haul trailer on 
    Interstate 40 when you moved to Colorado...  well, you  
    want to know the price. 

        Should an honest and respectable person quibble  
    over the price of a second hand oddity? Should an  
    independent adult with reasonable assets and modest but  
    adequate means chisel away at the paltry sum requested  
    by the elderly gentlemen with the cane who is currently  
    in possession of the set of Victorian drawers? In a flash. 

        In recent years, a certain segment of society has  
    frowned on the practice of price negotiation, summarily  
    dismissing such tactics as demeaning and just plain 
    inappropriate. This is nonsense.  Dickering has been 
    with  us long before Marco Polo traded Cornish game hens 
    for  lasagna with the Chinese.
       
        It's easy to do.  Peruse your local classified  paper. 
    Find an item of interest, let's say a color TV.  The current 
    owners want $125.  You arrive on the scene  with the cash. 
    You can see it's worth every bit of the  $125 asking price.
    
    You say "It looks kind old."

    They say, "Yep...it's used."

    You say "I'll give ya $75 for  it." 

    They reply kindly by saying "I can't take $75, I paid  
    almost $800,000 for it new.  How about $100?"

         There's a silence.  Finally you reach into your pocket 
    and pull from your pocket, five new twenties and say "Ok."

         Now you know how to dicker.  Go ahead and try it. 
    In the above case,  just one or two minutes of your time  
    saved you $25.  It's like my mom always said..."It  doesn't 
    hurt to ask." 






        



