THE CONFESSIONAL Do you know eBay? It’s like being addicted to crack — a frightening journey fraught with peril. I know. I am an eBay addict, and I am admitting that it has made my life unmanageable. The thrill of the hunt and the sweet, fleeting victory of the capture is like a parasite that preys on my pre-existing vulnerability to vice. And eBay is a vice, surely as insidious and deadly as cigarettes, gambling, drugs, or alcohol, with the same predictable outcome: jail, institutions, death. But the high, like all seductive substances, is dreamy while it lasts, and the treasures to be accumulated are wondrous. It is shopping heaven right on a little screen in the privacy of your own whatever. And you can buy anything you want, with an amazing selection of things that you never knew were available to you. Of course, I’ve had to take a second job to support this ugly habit, and of course, that cuts into my ability to spend time finding new and unusual merchandise to own — but just when I think I’ve exhausted my interest in it, some new, untapped category with a mother lode of new things to buy reveals itself. It was only briefly that a human liver was advertised for auction before it was yanked offline by eBay, but short of that, you’ll find it all.
Where else will you find a six-foot tall marble statue of Princess Diana, with bidding beginning at $2,500? And Joan Crawford‘s gloves, framed behind glass, for $159? And rare Waterford crystal? And new and vintage jewelry and designer clothes? And antiques and computers and toys and books and stamps and memorabilia from rock & roll to politics? Among so many other things? Breathtaking, and so easy you’ll have mortgaged your home and sold your children before you realize how deeply in debt you are. And what’s worse, you’ll have developed a “relationship” with the dweeby guy who sells you your money orders, who gives you the fisheye when night after night, you’re haunting the corner store, saying, “I’d like a pack of cigarettes, and, uh, money orders for $12.99, $112.50, $32, and $6.20, please.” It gets real old, real fast, and they begin to wonder why you don’t just open a checking account. What they don’t understand is that a check eats up valuable processing time, while a money order buys you same-day shipping. And once you’ve won and paid for the coveted item, you can’t wait for it to be in your hot little hands.
It begins with a simple registration procedure where you select a name and password, and it all seems so innocent at the time, but looking deeper into their listings is as much a part of the experience as the actual auction is. You can browse, or do very specific searches with zillions of items at your fingertips. On short order, you learn how to zip right past most listings that are of little interest to you. But suddenly, a description catches your eye, and you’re off.
Having decided that life is worthless without at least registering interest in a certain item, bidding (in my experience) takes one of two forms — when it seems likely that the item will sell for much more than you intend to spend, make a maximum bid just to stir things up, and let other bidders know your interest. Caution: Only attempt this when you can accept the fact that you might not actually ever own this particular item. On the other hand, when that little click goes off in the brain that says, “I must possess this item at any cost,” the preferred method of bidding involves waiting till literally seconds before and placing a bid equivalent to the largest amount of money one could conceivably obtain short of robbing a bank. Then, instantly, the item is yours. Then you roll over, smoke your cigarette, and go to sleep.
I am related to a Chronicle staff writer who shall remain nameless. We have plunged into the depths of eBay hell together, though the unnamed staff writer decidedly set the pace by purchasing a signed photo of Princess Diana for a mere $850. “Look,” the unnamed staff writer said, “It has Diana germs on it!” After I procured a signed first-edition of Joan Crawford’s My Way of Life, for $325, suddenly it was possible to vicariously live the life of wealth and stardom that I so richly deserve by purchasing celebrity detritus.
My most beloved eBay purchase is a 1963 photo of Jacqueline Kennedy having a tender moment with a very aroused German shepherd. Providing priceless entertainment and discussion, it was a steal at $50 plus shipping.
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This article appears in November 12 • 1999.