We’ll Tell You What We Know. We Don’t Know Everything.

We got a phone call last week.

A buyer wasn't happy with what they received. We described what was there. We had photos. And yet — phone call.

I'm writing this post because what happened should not have happened. Not because we were wrong. But because there was a simple step that could have prevented the whole thing — and it didn't happen. I'll get back to that.

I don't want to rant. But I do want to have an honest conversation, because I think it's one worth having — about descriptions, about expectations, and about what preview is actually for.

The absence of detail is not a red flag

When we catalog an estate, we are telling you what is there. We are not telling you it's like new, unless it is. We are not telling you it's perfectly intact. If we didn't say it, we didn't promise it.

We also didn't inspect every single item inch by inch — and here's why. When you're selling an entire estate, you need to move. My guys can catalog a standard three-bedroom, two-bathroom home in less than a week. That's roughly 700 lots. You do the math on what kind of per-item inspection is realistic.

If something is broken, we tell you it's broken — if we catch it. There have been times someone has walked up to us at preview and asked "did you know this has a hairline crack in it?" No, we did not. Thank you for telling us. Depending on the item, I've been known to erase all bids, send an email to every bidder, add the hairline crack to the description, and still have that thing sell before the auction closed that night. I've also been known to leave it alone because it was in a box with forty other things and the value wasn't there to warrant it. We use judgment. We're not always right. But we're paying attention.

If something appears to be working at the time of cataloging, we'll say so. If we don't have information on something that warrants it — a motor, a piece of equipment, something where condition actually changes the value — we'll note condition unknown. A sofa is a sofa. A box of kitchen utensils is a box of kitchen utensils. Not everything needs a condition report. But when it matters, we'll say so.

The absence of detail is not a red flag. It's an invitation to come to preview.

Now there are exceptions. If you've got an extensive collection of vintage paperclips — stay with me here — and the most valuable one is worth $100,000, you don't just say "paperclips." You describe those things. I have not personally sold a $100,000 paperclip. I would love to though. The point is, value dictates detail.

This is why we have preview

Preview is not a formality. It's there so you can come look with your own eyes before you bid.

We love hearing "this is better than I thought." We hate hearing "this isn't what I expected." If you can't make it to preview, call us. We'll be there and we can look at specific items for you. If you've got a long list, let's set up an appointment. We will find a way.

That phone call last week? Preview is exactly what prevents it.

Nobody's perfect. Including me.

I believe in the Golden Rule — treat others the way you want to be treated. Jordan Peterson, in 12 Rules for Life, puts it another way and I think about it a lot: "Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping." Both of those ideas apply here. We try to treat buyers and sellers the way we'd want to be treated. And I think the buying public deserves to hold themselves to that same standard. Come look. Ask questions. Take responsibility for what you bid on.

We make mistakes. I also think buyers make mistakes. And I say that having been that buyer.

I once purchased something at auction, got it home, and thought — oh. I think I messed up. I still paid for it because that's how this works.

Someone I know — not me, definitely not me — bought a Fiesta pitcher. Saw the pictures. Loved it. Did not read "Mini" in the title. Opened the box. Surprise. They still paid for it and laughed. We put a ruler in our photos for exactly this reason. Whether they missed the ruler or skipped right past the word Mini, the information was there.

Let me give you some examples

We sold a car that had been sitting a while. A buyer called before the auction and asked about the condition. Based on what we knew at the time, it seemed to be working as it should. He won it at auction, came to pick it up, looked it over, drove it, paid for it, and left. He made it home fine. It was after he drove it again that a mechanical issue showed up. He called and felt we should cover it.

Nothing we sell comes with a warranty. We're selling someone's life as honestly as we can with the information we have. That's the nature of this business and it's exactly why we tell everyone — come look before you bid.

We also sold a car once with "leaks oil, needs repair" right there in the description. Buyer previewed it, purchased it, and drove it home like he was at the Daytona 500. Motor locked up. The description told him what we knew.

And then there's the box of motorcycle parts.

We had a lot of phone calls on that one asking about the serial number on the motor. We looked. We looked hard. Not all vintage Harley-Davidsons have a serial number and this one didn't have one we could find. We took more photos when asked. We answered every question we could.

The buyer drove from South Dakota and paid around $20,000 for that box. Picked it up during designated pickup and took it home. It turned out to be a 1942 Harley-Davidson Knucklehead. His wife races restored vintage motorcycles. He sent pictures to the backup bidder the following week. Cool story.

It was an estate. Nobody knew what was in that box. The seat looked like something off an Evil Knievel promotional poster. The buyer knew motorcycles. We didn't. The catalog listed it as: Box of Motorcycle Parts.

We didn't know everything. We told him what we knew. That's the job.

When we get it wrong

Have there been times we've been incorrect and had to give money back? Yes. Do I say that with pride? No. It costs us double when we mess up — we still have to pay the seller regardless. That stings.

We once sold an Indian artifact that came with a letter of authenticity and a receipt from the auction house where it was originally purchased. Our guy who knows Indian artifacts looked at it, had some questions, then saw the letter. Well if the letter says it's authentic then it is. He moved on.

He came back to the building to look at the collection again and he just couldn't see how it was authentic. Then we found out — before the auction ended — that the letter wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. The person issuing those letters had gone bad and our guy had no way of knowing that. Oh boy. Now what?

I sat with that for a minute. The auction ended while I was thinking it through. I had already decided I would explain what happened and give the buyer their money back. When I looked them up they already knew the whole story. Cool. They were fine, I was relieved.

That piece did not sell for what a real one would have brought. Apparently everyone in the Indian artifact world already knew the source had gone bad — except our guy. He knows now.

We want people to be thrilled with what they buy. When we are the reason they aren't, we make it right. It just costs us twice to do it.

Back to that phone call

The buyer who called last week wasn't happy. Honestly, I wasn't either. We described what was there. We did not say these were "wonderful, above average things." We said "things." They called, we called them back. Then they sent an email and I emailed back.

What I did do was ask Jay to call the backup bidder. This backup bidder couldn't make preview, so he had driven out on his own time to go look at the things before bidding. When Jay called him he said yes, he would keep his word and buy them.

If he had said no — and that was absolutely his right — the original winning bidder would not have gotten a call from Jay.

I don't know about you but the backup bidder gives me hope for the world.

Where we land

We can't afford buyer's remorse. We want buyer's rejoice.

Every description we write, every photo we take, every ruler we stick next to a miniature Fiesta pitcher — it's all in the interest of giving you accurate information so you can make a good decision. We want you to win. We want the seller to be well-served. The best tool we have for making both of those things happen is communication — before the auction, not after.

If something matters to you, preview it. Call us. Ask questions. We would genuinely rather answer ten questions before the auction than get one very unhappy phone call after.

We'll tell you what we know. We don't know everything. That's just where we are. And it's exactly why preview exists.

Unless you drove it home like there was no tomorrow. That one's still on you.

Happy Bidding!

Kara C. Belcher-Miller