“Anything old, bought or sold,”
the sign on the door of the antique shop read. The owner
appeared almost as old as his antique desk. Some might have guessed
that Antonio, the antique dealer was a hoarder, but he would
never admit it.
“I like to collect and sell old
things, the older the better,” Antonio advised his customers. “My wife forced
me into the antique business, because she wanted room to live. Probably the
best thing I ever did!”
“Isn’t this place getting out
of control?” wondered the sophisticated, elderly physician, casually browsing
through huge stacks of old books, journals and other medical documents. “The
dust is horrendous.”
Antonio’s eye caught the
elderly man’s expression, as he uttered, “I can’t believe it!” under his
breath. “Effects
of the time on the profession”; this article is dated August 3, 1842.”
“I have a special today,”
said Antonio. “I’ll give you that at a good price and guarantee you’ll never
find another copy.”
“How much?” asked the
physician, purposely ignoring him.
“One hundred dollars,” replied
the antique dealer. “One hundred dollars for you and that is not much
for an old treasure.”
“Make it fifty,” bartered the
physician, suddenly aware whatever he paid would not be money wasted.
“Seventy five and it is yours.”
“Sixty two fifty. That is my
final offer!”
“Sold!”
The physician walked out of the
antique store still glancing through the journal, as he headed for his
Mercedes.
“Does Antonio have any idea of
its value?” the physician wondered, as he dusted it off and carefully
placed it in his black briefcase. “It will be recognized by our medical
community. That antique dealer is a hoarder though.”
“Does that old man have any
idea of how I just shafted him out of sixty-two fifty?” wondered Antonio. “Pure
profit. Better money in my pocket, than his.”
“Next,” he said to
a woman, admiring a piece of antique bone china.
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