The flea market on Saturday, all in all, was okay. Lots of ups and downs.
I had emailed the people earlier in the year to try to get a space here, but they were hesitant to take us because of Gamer's hats. They said they stick to handmade things, so weren't sure. When I emailed them this time, I sent a link to his website and to my photo page, and wrote up nice little marketingy copy about how his originally-designed, hand-labeled, and so on, and got an email back saying we were welcome to display at the flea market, arrive at 7:45am, and ask for Butch.
At 7:45 Saturday morning, I find Butch setting up his tent of vintage clothing and antiques. Introduce myself, tell him I've been emailing with the other guy, and that my brother and I are here to set up. Butch lets out a long sigh, looks down at his hands and then up at the sky and grunts, "what do you have?" Fearing another bit of resistance to the hats, I cheerfully say we have handmade jewelry and original baseball caps. Butch winces, sighs again, and says, "ugh. We have a lot
of jewelry here. I've got jewelry, she's got jewelry...them...them...them. We were going to put a moratorium on it, really." I said I had already emailed with the other guy and he didn't say it was a problem. "Well because he doesn't care." Listen, we came all the way out here. If there was a problem, you should have said something. Do you not want us to sell here? "No! I'd never turn anyone away. I don't want to have to hear you complain that you didn't sell anything because there's too much jewelry here!" At this point, I actually started crying, and asked why he was doing this. "What do you mean? I'm just warning you!" My big brother notices me crying, dons his you wouldn't like me when I'm angry
stance, comes over, and asks what the problem is. Butch says he was just talking to me and I got all upset: "It's just that when the lady next to me has $1 jewelry, I'm not going to sell my $5 jewelry." I tell him that's not an issue, since I'm not selling garbage, and that the people who want $1 jewelry aren't who I'm after. I ask if he's finished with his piece, and if we can go set up.
After getting shuffled around a few times, we're set up in a corner, but in a spot that appears to be pretty good, close to the parking lot, and at a 4-path intersection. We're told a guy selling CDs will be setting up across from us, which we're happy about since he'll probably draw a lot of people. On our other side, however, Scottie is setting up. Scottie and his girlfriend were there raising money for a charity that helps mentally handicapped homeless people. Scottie himself appeared to have been helped by the charity before and was there to support them helping the next mentally handicapped homeless person get on their feet. It sounds like a good charity, and it's great that Scottie is working to support the charity that supported him.
The only problem is that Scottie spent the day carrying a bucket and loudly asking people to donate to help the mentally handicapped homeless. If people donated, he'd thank them enthusiastically, and if they had a child with them, would want to pat the child on the head or give them a high five. Scottie often forgot who had donated the last time they walked by and who said they would donate on their way out. Scottie wanted to see Gamer and I do well, so he'd often point out our table to people walking by after he asked for money from them. Scottie is 6'5" tall and was wearing a dirty Uncle Sam costume with matching top hat.( More on the day, including some photosCollapse )