By day, Paul Meadors is a fifth grade teacher in a small California town. By night, he trolls the millions of items for sale on eBay, posing as his alter ego Art Farkas, and catching sellers off guard with his ludicrous and bizarre questions about their auctions. As he amusingly demonstrates time and time again, even in today's hyper-vigilant and impersonal digital world, the spirit of human salesmanship lives on, no matter how outrageous the question or request. For example, Art asks the seller of a set of bongo drums if there would be a way to attach them to his grandmother's back so that she could take them to the corner and play on the street to earn her rent money--which elicits a sincere, yet bitingly humorous response. From the entertaining auctions themselves, to Paul's loony letters and the serious responses they provoke, Letters to eBay provides a fascinating and humourous glimpse into the strange world of eBay and those who dwell within.
Release date:
August 30, 2007
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Print pages:
256
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This book started because of Bunko. Yes, Bunko. If you’re unfamiliar with Bunko it’s the wildly popular dice game played by
groups of women who scream uncontrollably at each roll in the hopes of rolling, well, a Bunko. Whatever that is. In my mind,
these get-togethers are nothing more than a glorified tickle party. Anyway, if my wife hadn’t left the house for her Bunko
game this book would have never come to fruition. It all started one August night in 2005 when my wife scampered away to her
cult-like group, leaving me to watch over our two small girls. As one who uses the world of media as a form of distraction,
I had a few options over the next three hours. At that point in my life my brain was starting to melt from being subjected
to over 10,000 hours of the kids musical group the Wiggles, so popping one of those mind-numbing videos in the VCR was clearly
out of the question. The Web seemed a logical choice. With a child on each knee, I surfed the Internet for some interactive
Web sites for my daughters to enjoy. After two minutes my eyes started to bleed from watching a computerized Elmo spin on
his head. I had to click away before my manhood was totally stripped from me. Then an idea popped into my head. I had heard
through the family grapevine that my brother-in-law had recently put a few of his wares to sell on one of the most popular
Web sites in the world—eBay. As an eBay member myself, I decided to check them out. My life would never be the same from that
moment forward.
After logging into my eBay account I found his items. Naturally, in the world of eBay, these dust-collecting items
were hidden treasures ready to be gobbled up by an anxious and reclusive buyer in Iowa or an elderly shopaholic in Texas.
These were the following nuggets of pure eBay gold he was selling: A pair of used size 13 Rockport shoes, a ceramic “The Last
Supper” sculpture with Jesus and his disciples, and a set of country- style napkins with place mats and napkin holders. Inherently
there was nothing too strange about those items. My brother-in-law simply wanted to get rid of some stuff and earn a couple
of honest bucks. But what caught my fancy were the descriptions of said items. The description for his Jesus and Disciples
sculpture stated “if you are a collector of religious artifacts then this is a must-have!” What? You mean to tell me that
this Michelangelo meets Leonardo da Vinci sculpture is up for sale on eBay with the low starting bid of only 99 cents? Why
hasn’t it been donated to the Smithsonian, surrounded by a glass casing with those invisible laser security devices deterring
would-be thieves? Wouldn’t that be a more logical resting place for this obviously rare and collectable jewel? Indiana Jones
surely would have searched the bowels of the Amazon jungle for such a find. There were so many questions that burned inside
of me concerning this must-have religious relic, so I sent him a few over-the-top questions about this Last Supper sculpture.
After firing off a few more outlandish questions about his other items he finally e-mailed me to say that I should do the
same to other eBay sellers to see what kind of reaction I could get. And so it started. I trolled eBay and quickly found a
lovely Copper Metal Flower Arranging Form Bird Cage that stated it was “Worry Free!” at the bottom of the description. Worry
free? This didn’t quite make sense to me so I decided to exploit it. How can a flower arranging birdcage be “Worry Free!”?
So I took on the persona of a character that suffers greatly from worrying about whether sippy cups are really safe, the GNP
of Hungary, and the number 72. I asked if his Copper Metal Flower Arranging Form Bird Cage could really help cure my condition
of worrying and help me become “Worry
Free!” like his description promised. To my delight I received a reply the next day with the assessment that the “Worry Free!”
description was merely a reflection of the “ready-to-use nature of the cage” and that it, sadly, would not cure my condition.
It worked. They bought it. If someone can take that question seriously then surely there would be more eBay sellers out there
that would think the same. Thus, my alter ego Art Farkas was created.
Over the course of the next ten months my obsessive-compulsive tendencies were channeled in a new direction—firing off-the-wall
questions to unsuspecting eBay sellers about their items. By day I was a simple fifth-grade teacher—by night I transformed
into Art Farkas. From the person selling a vintage French bayonet to the one offering a ceramic bird feeder tray, no one was
safe from my onslaught of seemingly far-fetched, creative letters. I was whooping it up pretty good, like a mad scientist
rubbing his hands together in mischievous glee. And so, Letters to eBay was born. So sit back, put your hands around a cup of piping hot cocoa and enjoy the Web mayhem that I created. And remember—these
are actual auctions and responses from actual eBay sellers. Oh, and by the way, the infamous Jesus and Disciples religious
artifact sculpture? It never sold… not even for 99 cents.
Up for your consideration is a lot of 48 pieces of SATIN ROSES. These ROSES are a Pale Pink color and are SHADED here and
there with a BEAUTIFUL SOFT Rose color. They have two SATIN PETALS and also 2 SHEER ORGANZA PETALS with a ROSETTE center and
5 SOFT GREEN leaves. These DARLING SATIN ROSES will come to you tucked in a sheer organza pouch embellished with a little
flower on the front. This is a great way to keep these BEAUTIFUL satin flowers safe and protected.
The measurements are approx. 1½" to 1¾" round (the flower itself, not measuring the 5 leaves behind the flower).
Thank you for your interest in my auction.
HAPPY BIDDING from Pamela Amundson—the delight-fuldesigner
Greetings! Our daughter, Zoila, is set to attend her first high school prom in three weeks and my wife, Dotty, and I are making
her dress. A very nice young man named Simon (freckles), who is president of the chess club and plays the french horn, is
escorting her and we’re pleased as punch! We held a three-hour interview with him last Monday and laid down the ground-rules
for his date with our daughter. No monkey business and home by 9:00 is our policy. We have already purchased twelve yards
of a periwinkle silk fabric, four bob-bins of lavender thread, and a plethora of muti-colored buttons. We love your appliqués
and think they would complement Zoila’s new dress perfectly. But, as strict Presbyterians, we’re concerned with the title
of your auction. What do you mean by “Satin Organza”? Naturally, we’re against Satin and his powers of evil and would not
want to purchase anything having to do with Satin. If you could clear this up with us we might purchase your appliqués. Thank
you.
Art
Good morning Art,
I awoke to check my e-mails and was also concerned with reading your e-mail. You sure had me questioning myself. I thought
the spelling of Satan is with an a and not an i. So I got the dictionary out and wanted to make sure. Sure enough, this is
the spelling of Satan not Satin. The description of Satin is a silky material that is glossy on one side. That is how the
dictionary describes Satin. I surely would not include evil in my auctions. I have a Catholic background and was taught while
growing up attending Catholic school that Satan was not the one to put my faith in. I would surely not include this name in
my auctions, I can assure you. Have a great day and I was happy that your daughter has parents that are so wonderful to make
her dress. . .
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