plato's

I’m poor. I need gas money to go home to Bakersfield this weekend. This is why today, thinking I was the most brilliant person on the planet, I took a fatty pile of clothes into Plato’s Closet to try to sell. I’ve heard that they’re picky and, depending on the employee who looks through your stuff, you can end up selling everything or nothing.

But I’m a babe, right? I’ve got some style. So I’ll be fine. They’ll totally want to buy all my clothes.

False.

They picked out three shirts from the pile of 12 (the three BRAND NEWEST shirts might I add), and offered me five dollars for them

FIVE DOLLARS? for sixty dollars worth of three shirts?

No THANK you. is what I said to the teenage bro wearing the Hurley shirt and pookah shell necklace. NO. THANK. YOU. You may keep your five dollars and I will go dig for spare change in the seats of my car so I can drive home to California to participate in my last family camping trip for two years. COOL.

I understand that we’re in an economic recession. I understand that Plato’s Closet is not gonna buy all my stuff. I’m sure they saw the California hunger in my eyes. They knew what I was up to. They knew I wanted to get rich quick.

But I also understand their clothing guidelines for sellers. Nice looking, purchased from their respective stores in the last year or year and a half, no wear and tear, in style. THAT’S WHAT I BROUGHT IN. After looking through my pile, the kid gestured to the larger pile and politely informed me that they had to pass up on “some of these” because they are “older.” Ok homeboy. Pretty sure my mom bought me these tops 6 months ago and I’m only trying to sell them to you because I’m gonna be wearing garments soon. Thanks. You’ve been uber helpful.

Maybe I’ll go sell plasma.