Other Kinds of Sellin'

I've talked a lot about the work I've been doing selling my resume, and selling my book, but another sort of venture has crossed my mind just a little bit lately. For a good chunk of months, especially during the holiday season, I was having to sell things on eBay in a weak attempt to make enough money to keep paying my bills. I'm not much of a spender, but my last employer wasn't a believer in overpaying people (nor in fact continuously employing them, at that), and winter's oil prices were through the roof. When the bills hit seven and eight hundred dollars a pop, you start looking for things other people might guy on eBay.

I was fortunate enough to be found by one particular buyer. "Pansy" was an effusively friendly thing who bought a dress from me, came back, and then came back a whole lot more. Easily eighty percent of what I listed, Pansy bought.

Pansy's mailing address included a man's name. And Pansy wears shoes in my size. It seemed to me fairly clear, I was selling to a baby drag queen. And I was as happy with Pansy as Pansy was with me. (The name I'm using, of course, is not even the actual buyer's ID; but, like "Pansy", that ID was a sort of slang for a girlie boy, so this is a lateral move.)

Given that Pansy was as exciteable as she was, and given that Pansy wears shoes in my size, my guess has been that Pansy is a very YOUNG person, probably still in the teen years. I confess, I took on an almost maternal attitude to Pansy, even the internet version of affection. I made a couple trips to the department store specifically to find things for Pansy. Eventually, I told all this to my mom, who quite hilariously helped me be the personal shopper for my dear little drag queen. I would email Pansy sometimes, asking "do you have any shoes in X color?" etc., and she would email back, "yes, but what I want is purses" - and I'd make a trip to find some of those (some of which I'd have loved to have been able to keep!), and she'd snap up several of them.

Make no mistake I missed any of the irony or opportunities for humor in my being a forty-two year old housefrau with tastes (and clothing/shoe sizes) perfect for a teenage drag queen.

But the point is, beyond being grateful to have a great customer, I liked what I got to know about Pansy. She's sweet, and a very open person (for all I sensed a bit of a closet situation; not least in the fact that, along with the presumption of youth, the shipping address was also at a UPS store). She seemed to me to be cute, and fun.

I haven't heard from Pansy since before I lost my job now. It's been a long time, and though I know this was hardly a "relationship" and my emotional investment can hardly be called deep, I do find I hope Pansy is okay. That the only reason I'm not hearing from her is just financial.



Life does funny things sometimes, and I am enough of a hippie dippie liberal kneejerk bleeding heart goop that I sort of treasured my part in keeping Pansy safe. Doing the shopping for cute things, for someone who clearly couldn't go out in public and do it for herself. And being a safe place for Pansy to "go", even if only to buy wildly inappropriate shoes.

I hope she is still safe. And still a sweetie pie.