The tricks of the rummaging trade

When Nancy Becker’s residence was part of the Langdon, N.D., tour of homes, she advertised its decor as: “Part citywide cleanup, part auction sale, part rummage sale and part dead relative, with some new stuff throw in.”

She did nothing to damage her reputation as a professional scavenger Friday during the “Rummaging with Ryan” promotion. It’s the fourth straight year that my name has been attached to the Herald’s annual rummage sale excursion with (truly blessed) contest winners and the fourth straight year that I’ve sprained my chuckle muscles.

In the first two years, I was surprised and amused at the fervor of many of the garage guerillas. Now, I’m just amused. Nancy is yet another Type A personality bargain-hunter who doesn’t need caffeine for energy nor alcohol to be inhibition-free.

She established her rummaging cred immediately when she showed up with a retractable, spring-loaded tape measure on her hip, available to check the dimensions of potential furniture buys.

She shared her strategy for cleaning up on Langdon’s cleanup day, when residents place their unwanted belongings along the curb.

“I take the day off from work,” she said. “You have to get out at 1 a.m. to beat everyone else to the good stuff and then you have to go back out at 6 a.m. because some people won’t put out their stuff until just before the truck comes.”

Before we climbed into the limo, she announced that she was claustrophobic, so she needed to sit by the door. No one was buying it, but neither was anyone daring enough to call her on it. Everyone knew it was a ploy to be first out the door to the capture the best treasures, but we also knew she had been awake since 4:15 a.m. and wasn’t one to trifle with.

Sure enough, she was on the berm in full stride before the limo came to a complete stop.

But she wasn’t always first. After spotting a long-desired nugget in a driveway from the limo window, Lasha Oss sprinted and hurdled her way to the door from 20 feet away in gold medal-winning time. Considering the low roof of a limo, her sprint/hurdle was even more impressive than Michael Phelps’ eight Olympic gold medals in 2008.

The Herald’s other five guests also were rummaging pros. They lightened the Grand Forks landfill’s eventual load by several tons. They smelled a bargain from the curb and, if the price wasn’t right, ruthlessly negotiated a lower number.

And Nancy provided tips along the way. Here are a few:

- Scan the table; don’t pick up everything for examination.

- Don’t fake interest in items to be polite.

- No eye contact with sellers or else you might get sucked in.

- No manners.

She has the credentials. She also stakes out Devils Lake’s annual cleanup day and attends the annual Junk Fest in Carrington, a giant sale in a monstrous Quonset where the buyers are held back by ropes until the appointed second. Ropes can handle hundreds of Nancys? I would have thought a 1,000-volt cattle fence would be required.

Melissa Johnson, Nancy’s sidekick/guest, landed a handful of caps with the word “Chaos” on them. “We’ll think of something to use them for,” she said to nodding heads.

Melissa’s treasure-hunting gene is inherited. “My dad would go to the landfill and find lots of good stuff,” she said. “He’d find snowblowers that were perfectly fine except they needed a spark plug.”

I also learned that junk even is coveted these days. It’s part of what’s called “shabby chic,” seemingly a contradiction.

Shabby chic is a form of interior design where furniture and furnishings are purposely chosen for their age, their wear-and-tear and being out of style. I assume it’s similar to the torn blue jeans that younger folks prefer.

It’s a phrase I’m storing for future use. If my clothes are outdated or I’m unshaven, it’s not because I’m lacking style or good hygiene.

Instead, it’s because I’m shabby chic.

Reach Bakken at (701) 780-1125; (800) 477-6572, ext. 125; or send e-mail to rbakken@gfherald.com.

Tags: ryan bakken, columns, news