HedgeWitch

by Silver RavenWolf

  A 5:50 am sunrise lurks somewhere behind the curtains of my bedroom window, and part of me refuses to believe I set the alarm for this early. I must be insane. By the time I’ve fried the bacon, flipped the eggs, and started the coffee pot, the western horizon is dark and foreboding with thick, nasty fog. Where the heck did the sun go? After breakfast, I step outside and shiver. Unpleasant black clouds stall overhead, anxious to dump yet another day of rain. What else is new? However, I have made up my mind that drops of water, no matter how big they plan to get, will not deter me from my mission.

  I take the dogs out for their morning run, throw on my heaviest sweatshirt, comb my hair, brush my teeth (a nice smile is important today), and arm myself with cell phone and money pouch securely attached to my blue jean belt loops hidden under that oversized hoodie. Beats carrying a purse.

  The sky looks really evil, but the clouds hold as I motor into the parking area. I’m surprised at the amount of people here, given the potential weather. Obviously, I am not the only determined soul out for a bargain at 8:00 am on a gloomy Sunday morning—but I will bet you that I’m one of the few people here with a magick formula for bargaining in my mythical back pocket! Today I have a special job to do: I am testing my HedgeWitch haggling secrets at the flea market.

  I’m pretty excited as I huff my way up the hill and into the vendor area. I’ve never haggled for anything before. At least, not consciously. Up until now, I was one of the hundreds of thousands of Americans that listened to the rules of middle-class society in my youth: to ask the price, or to dicker over the amount of any object, was…well…uncouth, disrespectful, and greedy. The fact that just about every other culture on the face of the planet exercises the art and science of haggling somehow didn’t make it into my educational curriculum.

  As children, many Americans are taught that the other side of bargaining—auctions—are good. Attempting to lower the price of anything else (other than coupons dictated by the seller) is considered rude. I believed this myth of misinformation up until last month when two things occurred—I wrote an article on belief and our economy went into the toilet. Now gas prices are high, and like everyone else, I have bills to pay—I need food and clothing, not to mention paying utilities and the mortgage. Let’s not forget house insurance, laundry detergent…you get the picture, because you’re right here with me.

  Like you, I’m not into cheating anyone—I just want a fair price, and since I can’t get it at the gas pump, I’ve got to look for it in other venues. After watching the news the other day,

  I found myself insulted that many large companies involved in the making and selling of creature-comfort items (soda, makeup, toys) don’t plan to lower their prices, feeling that Americans will continue to spend top dollar on their products to relieve themselves of the stress of higher prices they are experiencing elsewhere.

  Oh yeah?

  See ya soda, hello to making my own iced tea from my garden all summer long! Toys? I’m pretty darned crafty, so guess what my granddaughter will be getting for her first birthday? Cool handmade stuff. And cosmetics? Hrumph! A little sunshine for blush (if we ever get any sunshine), a splash of lip gloss, and a dash of eyeliner, and I’m good to go. If large corporations think they are gonna predict my behavior…well, we’ll just see about that!

  Too, after writing on the subject of belief, I realized that some of my conscious and subconscious beliefs about the energy exchange of my buying behavior was only making other people richer and me poorer. Time to align my brain on that one! Today is my experiment of taking charge of my financial buying power.

  The wind blows, and I can smell the impending rain. Undaunted, I adjust my hoodie. People around me walk either silently or exchange words in soft, low chatter. It’s either the weather, the time of day, or both, gently subduing the atmosphere. Not unpleasant, just slightly ghostie. I sort of wish I’d brought someone along, but my experiment this time requires I work solo.

  Today will be my first official experience in haggling, but not at HedgeWitch shopping. For the past three weeks, I’ve been using a technique that helps me find exactly what I want, employing the primordial language you read about here. To date, this has been incredibly successful for me. Now, after researching how to haggle on the Net, and understanding this is an acceptable and even desirable social process for both buyer and vendor, I’m ready to combine my primordial language technique with the art of bargaining.

  For me, step one in the science of shopping has always been to go with a plan. As my footsteps crunch on the gravel, I review in my mind what I want to find at the flea market today:

  Item Number One: A good-condition, portable, sturdy, wire shopping cart that rolls well on any surface and collapses easily to go in the trunk of my car when I’m not using it. This is my highest priority.

  Item Number Two: A new, plain sweatshirt for gardening. I plan to add embroidery to spice it up. I’m not into name-brand products unless the brand name is known for high quality.

  Item Number Three: A handcrafted photo book for my granddaughter. I’d seen one last week that really caught my eye, but I thought the price a bit high. Yes, I could make my own, but her birthday is right around the corner, so time is a consideration here.

  Armed with my new knowledge that it is okay to haggle, I’m ready to rock ’n’ roll! I particularly look for personal creativity when flea-market shopping. Seeing the creative, hard work of others always brings me joy, even if I don’t buy the item. As I round the first bend of the pathway, I remind myself of haggling rule number one: believe you will get a deal.

  I’ve made a few “be prepared” alterations in my plan for today. I broke all the twenties I was carrying with me in my little money bag into ones, fives, and tens at the convenience store outside of the market. I put the money in various jean pockets: tens in the right upper pocket, ones in the left, fives in the lower right. Haggling for a few bucks, winning, and then handing the vendor a twenty seemed a bit on the gauche side. Plus, having exact change and knowing precisely where it was located on my person would save transaction time should I strike a fair bargain. This splitting the cash into denominations actually served me well by accident, as you will see.

  I also know a bit of information that will be helpful today. This is my fourth week at this large flea market. I have a pretty good idea of who the regulars are and of who might be just passing through. I even look at license plates to see where the vendor is from. Stickers, decals, business addresses, and school slogans all give you a general point of origin if you are observant. Although I treat all vendors with respect, I remind myself to be extra nice to the regulars should I wish to visit them again. They might, or might not, remember me. I want to leave them with a good impression regardless of any deals.

  Down the path I march, deciding to begin at the far end of the site and work back toward the car. Three quarters of the way down, I spy the shopping cart I want. I have already done general haggling rule number one: research the market value of the item.

  The retail value of the type of cart I want ranges from $80 to $40 brand-new (this information was from a fast Google search). The asking price if I were selling such an article used at a yard sale would be 2/3 to 1/3 of the price, depending upon condition. This means the highest a seller might ask could be $54 and the lowest $13. I now follow haggling rule number two: scope out the item from a distance, then make a closer inspection. It’s best if the seller is busy with someone else at this time, as it gives you a nonstressful way to think about your opening bid…

  Which allows you to now move into haggling rule number three: size up the seller, but don’t make snap judgments on hair, clothing, etc. This is a flea market, after all. Look at the general window of prices the seller has marked on their items (if they are marked at all). Remember, numbers are magickally powerful and can tell you something about the seller without him or her knowing it. For example, if he or
she uses a lot of fives, they desire immediate change in their life. Number eight? Self-mastery and confidence on the physical plane has been reached in many areas. Lots of twos? They like socialization and partnership. They will compromise on most sales. Fours? They desire stability and may have a firm asking price or need a little extra coaxing. Of course, this rule fluctuates, but it is an interesting one to keep in mind. And if the seller is well coiffed, sports designer clothes, or is dripping with accoutrements of gold in a flea market environment, you’ve got a barracuda or a shyster on your hands—tread carefully (or not at all).

  General haggling rule number four: once you have sized up your vendor and carefully observed your target item, set the price in your mind that you are willing to pay. Before you even begin, agree with yourself that you will not go over this price and that you will walk away if a satisfactory deal cannot be had. Now cut this number in half; this is your opening bid.

  Haggling rule number five: clear your mind and focus. Before approaching the seller, remove all extraneous numbers from your mind and repeat your low-bid number nine times silently in your head. End with the HedgeWitch affirmation: “Always a blessing. Thank you.”

  Okay. I’m ready. That shopping cart is calling to me. I now follow general haggling rule number six: do not haggle in front of other customers. Wait for a respite in sales. The vendor normally does not advertise that he or she is willing to make a deal.

  I wait patiently, checking out a few other items, then circle back. I employ magickal haggling rule number seven: speak in a low, clear tone, and smile.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  She smiles.

  “I’m interested in the shopping cart out front. Will you take four for it?” Notice I didn’t say, “I’ll give you four bucks for that cart out there” or “Bet you can do better on that price you’ve got listed on that cart” or “Tell ya what: I’ve got four bucks here that says I can walk outta here with that cart.” I’ve actually heard haggling like this. Here, the buyer is being a bully and tries to immediately, through language, remove the control from the vendor. Big mistake. “I’ll give you…you can do better…I can walk outta here”—all these phrases suggest that the vendor is a subservient, helpless stooge, and even if they don’t recognize the words, their inner selves will immediately bristle. This is definitely not the energy we want here. What we want is for the vendor to feel he or she is in control of the bargaining process. Back to the story…

  She grins. “I paid more’n that for it. Nothin’ wrong with it. Good tires. Even collapses. Eight.”

  Haggling rule number eight: speak as you are spoken to, succinctly and politely. This builds a light rapport with folks. If you launch into your best diction and lift your chin, you’ve just turned off 90 percent of the population. Empathy is the key. I learned this from signing thousands of books and giving hundreds of seminars. Divas have no place at the bargaining table.

  This price, although incredibly reasonable, is over my agreed limit yet under the marked price on the cart. I find myself naturally hesitating, which is actually general haggling rule number nine: silence is your best friend when the vendor gives an offer you don’t like.

  “Seven!” she says, naturally filling the void of my silence.

  I smile again. “Sold!”

  I now follow haggling rule number ten: silently thank the universe. Which takes us into haggling rule number eleven: always work in cash. Give exact cash if possible. That way, the vendor feels satisfied with the deal and has no idea about that fifty bucks lurking in your shoe for emergencies. Never pull out wads of cash and flash your good fortune—it’s bad for the vendor’s impression of his or her own generosity, and bad for you if someone is watching how much money you are carrying. Which also leads us into the way you’re dressed. Although it sounded like I slapped on clothes for simple utility this morning, that wasn’t the case at all. If you are shopping for a bargain, don’t overdress (and that includes jewelry and makeup). My sweatshirt color choice is black—a power choice, and clean. My jeans are in good condition. My walking shoes match the sweatshirt. I’m not carrying a purse. You can’t see my cell or my money bag. My good watch is home in its box. I don’t need it—I can always get the time off my cell if I have to. I have small pearls in my ears, and unless you’re into jewelry, you won’t know they are real, and yet I’m not walking around with unfilled punctures in my head. My religious necklace is tucked inside my sweatshirt; it holds more power there, anyway. Displaying your religious persuasion with gaudy jewelry tells some vendors you are insecure. I have a canvas shopping bag stuffed in the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie (and we’ll get to why I’m carrying this in a moment).

  Grinning from ear to ear at my first haggling success, I march over to the cart and whisk away my purchase, but not before I turn and thank the seller and mention that this will be such a handy item on this day. She is a regular, so I make sure to look appropriately pleased, which wasn’t hard at all. As I trundle down the path, I am elated. I have completed my first successful haggle in less than ten minutes, saving myself top retail end $73, low retail end $33 by choosing a good-condition used item. I growl delightedly to myself—I am on a roll! The vendor initially wanted $23—a savings to me here at the flea market of $16. No matter how you slice it, I got a great deal! On top of that, a woman passes by with a cart much like mine. She has taken a collapsible laundry bag and used it for a liner for her cart. What a cool idea! I’m so pleased I’m about to bust. I’ll pick up my liner at the grocery store on the way home!

  A little further down the path, a well-dressed woman stops me. “Where did you get that cart?” she demands. “Did you buy it here? Where? I’ve been looking all over for a cart like that since the market opened, and I can’t find one.”

  Lucky me, I think, staring at her, because as yet I’ve not been able to get a word in edgewise. “I found it at one of the regular vendors,” I finally sputter, motioning with my hand and pointing, “up the path. It was the only one there that I saw.”

  “I walked right by there ten minutes ago,” she said, “and I didn’t see any carts.” She looks at me suspiciously and leans closer, her paper cup sloshing hot coffee on the ground with her eagerness. “Where? Where did you get it? Where, up there?”

  I looked at her rather helplessly. How do you give directions at a flea market? Turn right at the vendor with hundreds of junk boxes? Like…there are tons of those. Turn left at the hot dog stand (one of twenty along the way)?

  “Oh, never mind,” she says, showing her exasperation at my bumbling brain by jerking her cup this way and that. Without warning, she spins on her heel and gallops off in the direction of my pointing finger, which I’d inappropriately not remembered to lower.

  I shake my head, clutching my newly haggled cart protectively. Might not be a bad idea if she knocked off on that coffee. We see only what we choose to see, I muse to myself.

  Now I’m doubly excited, because I’d found something that someone else wanted—she apparently walked right by it and missed it! I chide my victorious feelings on the matter. Gloating is base—not spiritual at all! Still, I nearly skip past the sweatshirts. I banter jauntily with the seller. With newfound confidence, I walk away with a sweatshirt for a buck. Current WalMart price for similar design and color? $16.22. Target? $9.99. Clearance Target, but only in limited colors? $4.00. Here, I could pick any color I wanted and still save money. Also, the drive to the market was much closer than that of the nearest Target, so I didn’t have to expend any extra gas. I have also followed haggling rule number twelve: carry your own canvas shopping bag empowered with chamomile and calendula essentials to attract positive energy. This way, the vendor doesn’t have to fiddle with stuffing your purchase in a nondisposable plastic bag, and you are being earth-friendly. Besides, it makes you smell nice.

  Hot diggity, the dark clouds thicken overhead but I’m nearly dancing through the
flea market. Two items purchased on my list, and so far I’ve spent only eight dollars. I make my way over to the vendor I saw last week that offered the handcrafted photo books. The Sunday before, she wanted $25. I didn’t buy one, not because I thought the price was unfair, but because I’d already spent my dollars elsewhere. It just wasn’t in the budget that week. As I walk up to the table, I see that she has only one left: the one I originally wanted! In perfect condition, marked for five dollars, beautifully handcrafted. No haggling here: sold. I sincerely thank her for her creativity and tuck the book in my canvas bag. Always a blessing!

  I walk away from her table, smiling. I have now purchased all the items I wanted on my list for a grand total of $13, and for all intents and purposes, I am done shopping. However, I’m still working on my technique and haven’t experienced a full variety of haggling scenarios. My research isn’t finished. I pause, thinking about where I want to go next. It starts to drizzle.

  My daughter calls me on my cell. Could I pick up something she had ordered from one of the inside vendors? She didn’t want to bring my granddaughter out in the rain, and I didn’t blame her. I enter the building and spy a table of rubber stamps (my secret passion). There is a huge selection. Some are priced and some are not. I decide to try general haggling rule number thirteen: if some items are marked, and some are not, and you like several items, make your selection that includes both priced and unpriced items, then offer half or a third of the market price of your total selection as your opening bid.

  I observe that the stamps were brand-new. I’ve been buying stamps for several years and quickly calculate the retail price in my head, which would be thirty bucks without tax—more at a specialty shop. The vendor is an older woman with a weekly indoor stand, yet I’d never seen this large table of stamps before. “Good morning,” I say, holding out my choices. “Would you be willing to take ten dollars for these?”

  She smiled a greeting (much like the first woman) and then muttered to herself, counting up the prices in her head of the marked and unmarked stamps. “Heck,” she said, “why not?”