FUEGO
Give me a museum and I'll fill it. (Picasso) Give me a forum ...
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2007
- Messages
- 7,746
Backstory: this week I sold my father in law's old work van. You know the kind - the big white panel van popular among self employed construction workers and pedophiles (my FIL indulged in the former, not the latter). Apparently these things sell like hotcakes because I priced it $1000-3000 above the Kelley Blue Book suggested price, received many inquiries and ended up getting $300 less than my asking price without any negotiations and after disclosing some extra problems I discovered after writing the craigslist listing.
Almost all of the buyers that came to view the van were Hispanic painters with poor English skills (presumably recent immigrants). The guy that ended up buying the van fit that category. Most of the buyers also seemed broke, like they were scratching together the cash to buy the van ("maybe my primo or hermano can lend me another $500?"). So you kind of lump all these guys into a stereotype of nearly destitute, possibly undocumented alien, Grapes of Wrath dust bowl poor, fighting for financial survival against stacked odds.
My van buyer's wife, Paula, called me yesterday to ask for an appointment to view it and she had a baby screaming in the background during the whole phone conversation. I figured they needed a van ASAP so they could do bigger jobs, carry more ladders/scaffolding, etc. The guy shows up last night, makes me a cash offer for $6500 without even test driving the van, doing nothing more than cranking it up and listening to the engine for a minute. The recently illuminated check engine light didn't even deter him ("just a misfire cause by a bad spark plug in cylinder 8 most likely" I told him). Seems sketchy but maybe his old van blew up and he really really needs a van to work and make money (he was pretty dirty and looked tired from what was probably a long day working in 90+ degree temps).
I'm stunned by such a high opening offer, and my eyes immediately show how excited I am. I gather my thoughts and stammer out "$6,600?". He says "No, how about $6,500 and I fix all the stuff wrong with the van".
He pulls out a wad of cash, hands me $1000 as a deposit (9 crisp Benjamins and an old crusty one), and we shake on the $6500 price. This felt strange, not just because we're standing in my driveway at 9:30 at night and its pitch black other than the flicker of lightning from the storm blowing through.
We agree to meet at the bank today to swap cash and title and get the deal notarized. 1 pm rolls around and we're at the bank. As we sit in the lobby, I make small talk with the guy.
"Construction, huh?"
"Yes"
"Nice. What kind?"
"Painting. And drywall."
"Oh, good. Guess that pays the bills huh?"
"Yes, it is good. I have two brothers. We work together. Work is busy now."
"So you guys are growing and need a van now huh?"
"Yes. We already have 120 guys working for us. 29 crews with 29 vans. This makes 30. We are adding crews and vans as fast as we can get them."
The guy is sitting across from me wearing paint stained jeans, dirty scuffed up sneakers, and a shirt with holes in it. He proceeds to tell me how he does drywall and painting for most of the major home builders around the rapidly growing Triangle area of NC. There aren't hardly any white construction vans on Craigslist, presumably because this guy buys all the available inventory ("inelastic demand").
Just amazing that this guy owns a medium sized construction company but you would guess he was a paycheck away from eviction and the homeless shelter from looking at him. Bravo. That's how you do stealth wealth. The screaming baby in the background while on the phone was a classic touch too.
It reminded me of this thread: http://www.early-retirement.org/forums/f28/hiding-your-wealth-not-a-poll-81873.html about stealth wealth.
On a tangent, I've finally felt the sting of revealing my net worth on my blog. This week my grandma sent me a birthday card. I get embarrassed because she always puts a $5 bill in my birthday card. She needs the money a lot more than I do. She's almost 90; $5 used to be a lot of money back during the Depression and grandma's living on a tiny SS check.
Except this time the card had no money in it. I guess age 36 is when you grow up and get cut off.
Almost all of the buyers that came to view the van were Hispanic painters with poor English skills (presumably recent immigrants). The guy that ended up buying the van fit that category. Most of the buyers also seemed broke, like they were scratching together the cash to buy the van ("maybe my primo or hermano can lend me another $500?"). So you kind of lump all these guys into a stereotype of nearly destitute, possibly undocumented alien, Grapes of Wrath dust bowl poor, fighting for financial survival against stacked odds.
My van buyer's wife, Paula, called me yesterday to ask for an appointment to view it and she had a baby screaming in the background during the whole phone conversation. I figured they needed a van ASAP so they could do bigger jobs, carry more ladders/scaffolding, etc. The guy shows up last night, makes me a cash offer for $6500 without even test driving the van, doing nothing more than cranking it up and listening to the engine for a minute. The recently illuminated check engine light didn't even deter him ("just a misfire cause by a bad spark plug in cylinder 8 most likely" I told him). Seems sketchy but maybe his old van blew up and he really really needs a van to work and make money (he was pretty dirty and looked tired from what was probably a long day working in 90+ degree temps).
I'm stunned by such a high opening offer, and my eyes immediately show how excited I am. I gather my thoughts and stammer out "$6,600?". He says "No, how about $6,500 and I fix all the stuff wrong with the van".
He pulls out a wad of cash, hands me $1000 as a deposit (9 crisp Benjamins and an old crusty one), and we shake on the $6500 price. This felt strange, not just because we're standing in my driveway at 9:30 at night and its pitch black other than the flicker of lightning from the storm blowing through.
We agree to meet at the bank today to swap cash and title and get the deal notarized. 1 pm rolls around and we're at the bank. As we sit in the lobby, I make small talk with the guy.
"Construction, huh?"
"Yes"
"Nice. What kind?"
"Painting. And drywall."
"Oh, good. Guess that pays the bills huh?"
"Yes, it is good. I have two brothers. We work together. Work is busy now."
"So you guys are growing and need a van now huh?"
"Yes. We already have 120 guys working for us. 29 crews with 29 vans. This makes 30. We are adding crews and vans as fast as we can get them."
The guy is sitting across from me wearing paint stained jeans, dirty scuffed up sneakers, and a shirt with holes in it. He proceeds to tell me how he does drywall and painting for most of the major home builders around the rapidly growing Triangle area of NC. There aren't hardly any white construction vans on Craigslist, presumably because this guy buys all the available inventory ("inelastic demand").
Just amazing that this guy owns a medium sized construction company but you would guess he was a paycheck away from eviction and the homeless shelter from looking at him. Bravo. That's how you do stealth wealth. The screaming baby in the background while on the phone was a classic touch too.
It reminded me of this thread: http://www.early-retirement.org/forums/f28/hiding-your-wealth-not-a-poll-81873.html about stealth wealth.
On a tangent, I've finally felt the sting of revealing my net worth on my blog. This week my grandma sent me a birthday card. I get embarrassed because she always puts a $5 bill in my birthday card. She needs the money a lot more than I do. She's almost 90; $5 used to be a lot of money back during the Depression and grandma's living on a tiny SS check.
Except this time the card had no money in it. I guess age 36 is when you grow up and get cut off.