Auction Mishap

I have a friend, Matt, who knows at least a little about everything and is a master horse trader. Every time I talk to him he’s been studying something, learning new skills, and acquiring eclectic items related to the skills and learning. At one point, Matt had gotten into leather working—a hobby that we share interest in and he was in pursuit of a sewing machine. Matt invited me to go with him to an estate auction on a rainy Saturday morning. (He probably knew less people would turn out and increase his chances of finding a bargain).  All the things were sorted out into lots with similar items to make it move more efficiently. There was a LOT of stuff here! Imagine everything you’ve accumulated over a lifetime being scraped from every nook and cranny of your home and sheds and being set out on the front lawn. We were there for a couple of hours just looking around and the auction itself lasted another couple of hours. It’s really interesting to witness. A fairly country crowd all flocking around a bunch of stuff that frankly doesn’t deserve a second chance. I mean, I guess a box full of rusty tools for three dollars is a bargain but only if you intend to use a box full of rusty tools. I think for most folks it’s more about the experience than what they end up taking home. Or maybe it’s the search, like panning for gold. There are a few nuggets in all that dirt and Matt had his eye on a nugget.  The sewing machine was one of the last items sold but Matt was willing to wait and I was just along for the ride. Matt had registered as a bidder and gotten a bidding number just so he could bid on this machine. He figured it was worth five or six hundred bucks and was hoping to get it for a fraction of that. When the auctioneer was just a few lots short of the machine, Matt stepped away to use the restroom. I anticipated seeing him back soon. He had waited all morning for this after all. But as the auctioneer got closer and closer to the machine, there was no sign of Matt. It wasn’t really my thing but I knew it was why we were there so I started to feel a little anxious. Had Matt gotten sick or something? Why would he stay away for so long when it was time to bid on his item? When the auctioneer made it to the sewing machine, I determined that I would start bidding for Matt. Surely he couldn’t be gone much longer. I would keep him in the race and he could cross the finish line. That’s what buddies are for right? Well, I was leaning against the shed and from my vantage point, I could see the house where Matt had disappeared for a bathroom break about 15 minutes ago. The auctioneer was standing next to the machine inside the shed. The bidding began. Fifty dollars. Seventy Five. One hundred. One twenty five. Up and up. I was starting to sweat. I knew Matt was willing to pay a few hundred dollars but it wasn’t really my place to make that call. I was just trying to hold his place. Up and up it went. The bidding slowed around $200. Some bidders must be dropping out but someone who I could not see in the shed was still in the fight. The price climbed to $300 then $400. I was just about to give it up. Ol’ Matt would just have to wait for the next one. I didn’t want to spend all of his money! Just about that time, at $475, my tenacious competition peaked around the corner at me. The blood drained from my face when I realized who the bidder was. MATT. Everyone else had the realization about the same time I did. They had seen us together all morning. I think the auctioneer knew what was happening all along. I felt like such a fool. We still laugh about it. Matt did from the get go. He said he was willing to pay about that much for it anyway. Not because he really was willing to but because he’s a good friend and that's the kind of thing a good friend says. He said the story was worth the $475. Although if I was bidding on the story, I probably would have dropped out around $150--the price Matt would have paid for the sewing machine had I not been bidding. One hundred fifty is where the only other bidder dropped out. I wonder how often I'm doing damage when I think I'm helping. I hear it's the thought that counts but just how high can it count?