I Buy Storage Units
The rest of my life begins now, and with that I vow to do what I've always enjoyed: Writing.
It shouldn't be a big deal, but a lack of scheduling skills and other priorities wreak havoc on the best of intentions.
Since my biggest priority is ruining my life, I decided I'll write about that. I. Buy. Storage. Units.
Some units that I purchase become available when people simply stop paying for them. When one falls behind on a payment, it's hard to catch up. I think the last unit I bought ($57) was because the woman knew that her stuff wasn't worth the price of storing. When you see a box labelled "rags" that's a clue that the rest of the unit will be mostly throw-away or the FREE SIGN will be going up on the corner of your street.
Some unit renters pass away and there are no kids (or interested kids) who want what's inside. Let me tell you how I started into this mess:
Over 10 years ago, I called my Mom - landline to landline. She asked if I would call back because she was watching Storage Wars on TV. Like wanting to eat whatever someone else is eating, I had to watch the show, too. The show is about people who bid on abandoned storage units, what's inside and what happens to the merch inside.
I never planned on participating, but I did want to go to a storage auction in person after that. It was my version of a front row seat at a rock concert. I watched the newspaper legal ads and found an auction that would be near me. In Florida, there seems to be a storage unit on every corner. (But dang it, in Sarasota - no Dairy Queen!)
I took my nervous (yes, I was), excited 50 year old body to the Storage Facility and found cars lined up and down the street. I went in the lobby and the woman told me I had to sign up. I didn't realize by signing up, I'd get a number and could be an actual player.
At the first unit, I simply watched. The people are paraded down the concrete lot to the offending unit, where the manager or auctioneer burns off the existing lock. The people participating are allowed to look in the unit, but not step inside. Usually, a line forms, so everyone has a chance to look. The pros have their flashlights and locks ready.
Second unit, I had to…just had to… be part of the game. I bid and was immediately outbid. That was the plan. The last unit was a huge dusty 10 x 20.
This one would be going for a lot of money. It was filled with all kinds of old furniture and antiques. As a lark, like the units before me, I bid. There was only one other bidder, Tony from the appliance store. The other people knew him and referred to him as "Big Bucks Tony". Of course, I wasn't intimidated, because I wasn't going to win - nor did I want to. I figured others might start jumping in. The auctioneer talks real quickly, it could get confusing. I was just biding my bids for when this unit turned into a true storage war.
At my bid of $110.00, everything stopped. It went silent, except for the shocked auctioneer - "Do I hear 120? Do I hear 120? Going! Going! SOLD to the young lady for $110.00" That young lady was ME.
I reacted like I won Miss America. I waved to the throngs of bewildered bidders. Meanwhile, Tony is yelling: "Wasn't I the last bid? Wasn't that MY bid?"
Fortunately, this facility took a credit card (most auctions are cash only). I was given a lock and mainly I remember the auctioneer driving me to the unit in a golf cart and saying: "You got yourself a big ass unit."
To which I replied: “Thank you.” In the pit of my stomach, I was wondering: What am I going to tell my husband?
In my next Substack, what was in the unit and the chaos that ensued.