Everything I Know About Sales I Learned On Facebook Marketplace
And how one unexpected "piece of junk" changed my life
Like many of you, I’ve had my highs and lows selling things online. I’ve found some awesome deals, unloaded some well-loved treasures, and been burnt more than a few times by no-shows and false advertising and plain old scammers.
Due to these intermittent successes, I’ve developed a number of policies regarding anything I post:
I will not meet you anywhere. If you want it, come and get it.
No haggling (unless I’m desperate to get rid of something).
Sure, I’ll ship it to you … if you pay for ALL the shipping costs.
These expectations are conveniently built into the listing, so I rarely have to deal with pushback. If you sell things online often, there’s usually a clear-cut system to choosing the “winner.” On eBay, it’s the highest bidder. On Amazon, it’s whoever pays the asking price. And on Craigslist, it’s the person who seems least likely to murder you.
On Facebook Marketplace, it’s the Wild West — there are no rules governing who sells or buys anything, and the sales conditions are up to each seller to figure out. I’m sure some people weed out contenders after poring over their profiles, while others just pick whoever gives them the best offer. Through trial and errors, I’ve developed my own slightly complicated method of handling bids:
The first person to respond gets first dibs.
The first person to commit to a pickup time moves to the head of line.
The minute somebody pays, the item is marked SOLD — and not a moment sooner.
This may not be the best system, but it has served me well.
That is, until one item broke the mold.
We recently finished remodeling our basement. In preparation for this, we cleaned out a ton of clutter. Some of it we donated, some we threw out, but a few worthwhile gems ended up on Facebook Marketplace. I unloaded furniture, clothes, and well-loved toys rather seamlessly thanks to my aforementioned policies.
Turning my sights toward the rest of the house, I decided to clear out some more unused (but still useful) items from the garage and yard. About 48 hours ago, I posted some primo stuff: a Razor electric scooter; a Crazy Cart; a large, handmade stuffed animal “zoo”; a plastic indoor/outdoor toddler roller coaster; and an old (but still fully functional) desktop computer.
Out of all these items, I expected to have the least interest in the roller coaster. My kids certainly aren’t interested in it anymore after years of declining use. However, it’s still in good shape and taking up valuable backyard real estate, so I was hoping some other kids might wring some enjoyment out of this toy.
Well, apparently, the Internet thought the same thing. Within the first hour of posting the roller coaster, I received no less than 40 messages asking if it was available. I literally could not respond to messages as quickly as I was receiving them. And keep in mind that all I have to do is touch the message and click one of the quick responses – “yes it is still available” or “I’m in talks with someone right now.”
Based on my aforementioned policies, I initially offered the item to just the first few respondents. I waited to hear back from them, and a few indicated genuine interest and willingness to pick it up. Pleased with my process, I figured I’d have this sale wrapped up in no time.
Meanwhile, dozens of requests continue to roll in. The original responders were slow to get back to me, and I had other things to attend to. This sale would have to wait. I silenced my phone at that point, but new messages continued to roll in well into the evening. I had a tentative “finalist” willing to pick up the following morning, so I switched the item to “pending.” That night, the steady buzz of more messages lulled me to sleep.
I woke up to 157 new messages. Maybe this is a normal experience for you, but I get overwhelmed if I have more than five unanswered texts at any one time. I began rapidly responding to the backlog, all while more messages kept pouring in. You would think I was offering free tickets to DisneyWorld. I imagined this is what Brad Pitt would experience if he signed up for Tinder. Click new message, politely decline. Click, decline. Click, decline.
I got so habituated to responding “sorry this is not available” that when an offer came through for the computer or the Crazy Cart, I had to go back and correct myself: “oh wait —this item is actually still available. Are you interested??”
Crickets.
Meanwhile, I messaged my original “first dibs” person to firm up our sale.
Also crickets.
WTH? Do they not realize they are first in line to the Eras Concert equivalent of Facebook Marketplace?
Long story short, I had a few serious offers, including a few people very late to the game relatively speaking, who made bids right out of the gate. If I had known that the first few respondents would’ve flaked out on me, I probably would’ve just accepted the first legitimate bid and taken the thing off the market. Once people have their money and skin in the game, they’re totally motivated to come pick up the item. But in the spirit of fairness, I tried to give the first in line priority. That ended up falling through, which, as we all know is fairly par for the course with Meta Market.
Less than 24 hours after I posted the roller coaster, a local guy stopped over during lunchtime today and paid me cash to take item off my hands. He was clear with his communication and very willing to pay up – in fact, he overpaid because he didn’t have exact change, and neither did I.
So what did I learn from this?
Like most people, one of my first thoughts was I obviously priced the item too low. I really didn’t think this item was special, so I brought that on myself; I tend to do a little research before posting anything for sale online because I want to see what the competitive prices. It turns out there is very high demand for no-longer-in-production children’s toys. I probably could’ve made twice as much money in an hour or so if I played my cards right.
Most days, when I look at my sales figures for my books, I’m thrilled if I sell more than two in a day. I was beyond proud of my daughter for making five word-of-mouth sales at school. When I did a school visit last week, I grinned from ear to ear when I delivered seven autographed copies to a few eager readers. The size of the response that I got for this roller coaster shattered my sense of supply and demand. There is a hungry market out there.
But just like in real life, your online location matters. It’s not just what you’re offering, but where. If I had set that toy in my driveway with a FOR SALE sign, it would probably still be sitting there. 90% of the people that pass by my house on any given day are (a) my next door neighbors or (b) Amish. (The other 10% are Amazon deliveries.)
Conversely, there is no shortage of traffic online. So how can I make sure my books are in the right virtual place — at the right price — to reach the right audience?
I guess I’ll have to find new digital street corners to try and see where the traffic is.
That, or I’ll just change all my book covers to this: