THE HAPPY TABLE -- FUN IN PHILATELY
A few years ago, when I had a table for the first time at the biggest Scottish stamp and postcard fair, Scotex, I was quite busy but disappointed with my takings. In fact I did not break even at the event. My wife, however, had quite a different perspective to offer. First of all, she reminded me that breaking even at a prestigious and high-cost event such as the Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre in Glasgow is neither very realistic nor the main goal.
"Besides," she said, "You had a happy table. Everyone was enjoying themselves."
And indeed she was spot on. A large number of collectors, not necessarily big spenders, came by and found items they were looking for. They showed their discoveries to their friends and neighbours, and the tales and laughs came freely. I enjoyed myself quite a bit too.
And the next time I attended a fair in the west of Scotland, a lot of these people came back to say hello and make purchases -- and I did a roaring trade. That was a happy table as well, and I have tried to make my table at subsequent appearances an enjoyable place to be.
I am not alone in feeling that those in the hobby of collecting stamps, covers, postcards and related items need to do as much as possible to make the experience as pleasant and light-hearted as possible.
One reason I feel this so strongly is that I had an extremely bad, nay humiliating, experience when I was a young collector. Like many people, I collected just for fun and did not look at stamps as an investment. I had a large worldwide collection and loved building it up. After university, when I had my first proper job, as a newspaper editor in a small city in New York, I had some real disposable income for the first time in my life and set out to spend some of it on my collection. I strode happily into the only stamp shop in the city and was immediately, and brusquely, asked what I was looking for. When I said I was looking for stamps to add to my worldwide collection, the dealer lit into me. He said that was no way for a grown person to collect stamps and that I was wasting my time. I listened to this for a minute or two and then beat a hasty retreat, my tail between my legs.
I felt so horrible about the experience that it was four or five years before I went into a stamp shop again, except to buy supplies. I built up my old-fashioned collection through approvals – and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I was strictly a closet collector, one with no personal contact with dealers and other collectors, who I feared would give me another philatelic lecture. In fact it was not until a dealer sent me a card about joining the American Philatelic Society that I took this basic step. I quickly found myself sucked into the mainstream of philately and starting writing articles for "The American Philatelist" and – best of all – going to stamp events and meetings and encountering like-minded collectors. When I moved back to Britain so my wife could be near her parents, my philatelic universe expanded even more quickly. I even started to specialise, and eventually began to build up a stock for the days when I could no longer cope with the demands and unsocial hours of daily newspaper journalism.
Today my stamp, postal history and postcard business is well established. Whether customers or potential customers are spending an hour to pick out 70p worth of stamps on leaves or buying £90 worth of crash covers, I try to treat them like royalty. Above all, I want to keep them happy.
"Besides," she said, "You had a happy table. Everyone was enjoying themselves."
And indeed she was spot on. A large number of collectors, not necessarily big spenders, came by and found items they were looking for. They showed their discoveries to their friends and neighbours, and the tales and laughs came freely. I enjoyed myself quite a bit too.
And the next time I attended a fair in the west of Scotland, a lot of these people came back to say hello and make purchases -- and I did a roaring trade. That was a happy table as well, and I have tried to make my table at subsequent appearances an enjoyable place to be.
I am not alone in feeling that those in the hobby of collecting stamps, covers, postcards and related items need to do as much as possible to make the experience as pleasant and light-hearted as possible.
One reason I feel this so strongly is that I had an extremely bad, nay humiliating, experience when I was a young collector. Like many people, I collected just for fun and did not look at stamps as an investment. I had a large worldwide collection and loved building it up. After university, when I had my first proper job, as a newspaper editor in a small city in New York, I had some real disposable income for the first time in my life and set out to spend some of it on my collection. I strode happily into the only stamp shop in the city and was immediately, and brusquely, asked what I was looking for. When I said I was looking for stamps to add to my worldwide collection, the dealer lit into me. He said that was no way for a grown person to collect stamps and that I was wasting my time. I listened to this for a minute or two and then beat a hasty retreat, my tail between my legs.
I felt so horrible about the experience that it was four or five years before I went into a stamp shop again, except to buy supplies. I built up my old-fashioned collection through approvals – and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I was strictly a closet collector, one with no personal contact with dealers and other collectors, who I feared would give me another philatelic lecture. In fact it was not until a dealer sent me a card about joining the American Philatelic Society that I took this basic step. I quickly found myself sucked into the mainstream of philately and starting writing articles for "The American Philatelist" and – best of all – going to stamp events and meetings and encountering like-minded collectors. When I moved back to Britain so my wife could be near her parents, my philatelic universe expanded even more quickly. I even started to specialise, and eventually began to build up a stock for the days when I could no longer cope with the demands and unsocial hours of daily newspaper journalism.
Today my stamp, postal history and postcard business is well established. Whether customers or potential customers are spending an hour to pick out 70p worth of stamps on leaves or buying £90 worth of crash covers, I try to treat them like royalty. Above all, I want to keep them happy.
posted by Chad Neighbor at
1.11.05
|
2 comments
