Chemist and Art Speculator

My favorite website of late is an online auction site that liquidates the surplus equipment of companies around the world including transportation companies, high tech companies, manufacturers and several large pharma companies in the US. I frequent the bio-pharma auction, where all sorts of random stuff comes up like two dozen rotovaps, scads of analytical balances, glassware and my personal favorite that I have seen: "lot of 6, Primate restraining chairs"

In some ways it is creepy since you know that this equipment is from research programs that have been shut down and likely chemists layed off. I feel like I am buying at the estate sale of people's careers. All the same, I have to run my program on a fixed budget and I have gotten some sweet deals on lab equipment like vacuum pumps, manometers and circulators.

So the other day for a laugh I checked out what was in the auction for the HP office in Dallas. Amongst hundreds and hundreds of laptops and scads of fancy office furniture I came across something odd for this website: a painting. Not at print, but a real painting. It probably would have hung in one of the offices with the fancy furniture.

It was a really nice and large painting of a cowboy scene in Texas. Not exactly my taste, but clearly the artist was talented. And no one would ever go to this website looking for art. A centrifuge or even a front end loader, perhaps but not art. So there was a really good chance I could buy this painting for the reserve price.

The auction had been open for a few days and no one had bid yet, and the reserve was set at 1500. Eeek. Kinda pricy for new home owners.

But for kicks, I looked the artist up and found a gallery selling his work online. And I was shocked to find out that paintings of that size were going for 7500-10000 dollars.  Holy schmoly!

So I asked around, got some advice from a friend of my brother who buys art for a living. She suggested that I check art auction sites to make sure his "used" paintings were selling and for what price. Sure enough, two of his paintings had sold at auction for 4 and 7 k since January.

This is AWESOME. I could make some serious dough!

By this time, the online auction had been open for near a week and no one had bid. Only one day was left .

It was nerve wracking. Do I do this? Can I really justify 1500 on a painting I only kinda like? (Then would have to pay for shipping and buyers premium- so more like 2 grand). But think of the possible sale price! And equally important for me, the story I could tell!

So with permission from the Chicken and 1 hour to go, I bid. 1500.

Then silence.

Waiting.

Checking Email.

Waiting.

Eating Apple.

Waiting.


With 10 minutes to go, I hear a ding from my email. Someone has out bid me! At 1525!

I can totally go a little higher for ta 4-7k paining, so I go up to 1550.

And wait.

Bite nails.

And wait.

The clock is ticking down.

And with 30 seconds to spare, the dude out bids me at 1600.
Obviously, this guy is a newbie with the "last moment bid" trick since this site automatically adds on 10 minutes if you bid in the last three minutes.

Anyway, the bidding war starts, and we go back and forth a couple of times.  But I set myself a limit that was appropriate for a new home owner and a painting that I only liked.

So when my competition started going up in hundreds, I opted out at 1900.

Nice try, No cigar for this cowgirl.

But that other guy got a real deal. I hope he loves it rather than just like it, like I did.

Never Dare a Dutchman

Since my home life is simple these days, and my work life not appropriate for a blog, I have decided to put some of my old favorite stories to the page. I promise they are all true and only slightly tall after many tellings. It is appropriate then that I start with a fish story, which like all fish tales involves a fish that got away. But this fish was peculiar in that it was in the middle of Southern Ontario farming country outside the supermarket.

Still living in the small town where my mom grew up is an old friend of my mother's who immigrated to Canada from Holland many years ago. I have known Renske and her husband Lawrence my whole life and spent happy times on their farm milking cows, playing with their son and daughter, and snowmobiling through the fields.

When I was about 20, their similarly aged nephew Gerben was visiting from Holland who I had only met once a few years prior. Since that time, Gerben had sprouted into a tall lanky fellow who towered over us all. He seemed normal and nice enough, but clearly keen for adventure as he was touring Canada alone.

Gerben asked me to drive him to get flowers for his aunt and uncle. It happened to be the 25th wedding anniversary of Renske and Lawrence and we were getting together for one of our big two-family dinners, where there is heaps of food and heaps of laughter but never enough time.

I hopped in our k-car, Gerben folded himself into the passenger seat and we headed to the Zhers supermarket, which I had recalled had a passable floral department.

On this particularly sunny day at the supermarket, there was a foam mascot tuna by the front door, hawking his wares, waving his stubby fins at the entering shoppers and turning back and forth awkwardly with his whole body as people in mascot costumes tend to do. This was keenly true for The Tuna who's feet were constrained inside a narrow fake foam tail fin. Close by, his keeper passed out coupons and made sure The Tuna stayed upright.

I waved to the tuna imagining it being a local teen trying to make a few bucks, and then passed through the sliding doors with Gerben inside.

On the way out, with Gerben now wielding a giant bouquet, we passed The Tuna and his diligent keeper again. To this day, I don't know what prompted me to say it, and especially to a near stranger, but halfway to the car, I jokingly suggested with these fateful words:

 "Dare you to tackle the tuna."

Gerben looked at me,
looked at The Tuna,
looked at me,
cocked an eyebrow,
pressed the bouquet into my arms
and promptly started running full tilt in his lanky way towards The Tuna.

The Tuna must have noticed Gerben and thinking there would be some fun, bent slightly forward in a menacing manner and started running – or rather shuffling as fast as his tail fin would let him towards Gerben in response.

The two came to a screeching halt in the parking lot within three feet of each other and stared each other down like gladiators: The Tuna with the glassy eyed look of death and Gerben bent forward ready for attack.

I'm sure the Tuna thought this would be the end of it, but no. Our Dutchman had other plans.

Gerben hoisted the shocked Tuna up and over onto his lofty shoulder and started spinning.

The Tuna's keeper and myself, bouquet in arms, watched with mouths agape not knowing what to do  as the fish madly slapped Gerben on the back with his short feeble fins.

Gerben finally relinquished his hold on The Tuna and set him back on his feet where he waved dizzily for a few seconds before his keeper ran up with a steadying arm.

Gerben simply turned and sauntered back to me, grabbed the flowers out of my arms and simply said:

"Never dare a Dutchman"