With all the bitching the primitives are doing about the incoming Great and Glorious Leader, and threatening to boycott people and businesses that have any connections with him, I had a moral crisis of Great Proportions last night. In fact, it kept me awake nearly all night.
Because I’d spent far less money during all of 2016 than I’d anticipated, I ended up with a nice surplus with which to be wildly extravagant. But should I spend it at a business that has a primitive on its payroll?
I collect coins, mostly pre-1967 but even more so pre-1861 English coins, and while one can still find some things reasonably priced, over the years their “values” have slipped upwards, getting out of my reach, or nearly so.
I’ve never in my life collected coins—or anything else—with their “increase in value over some period of time” in mind. It’s a casual, leisurely hobby, not a retirement plan. I’ve always collected coins—and everything else—simply because I was attracted by the aesthetics and qualities of one thing or the other.
And “price” has never been a consideration; if I like something well enough, whatever the price is, is okay with me. I’m not a shopper-around-for-bargains; I’m simply a buyer-of-that-which-appeals.
Where others think I’m an idiot is that I won’t buy any coins in pristine or uncirculated condition; while I wish to have attractive coins, I want coins that have actually been used as money. I don’t bother with considerably worn-down coins, though; just those graded as “fine,” “very fine,” or “extremely fine,” showing at least enough wear-and-tear to prove they were once actually used as money.
Because of my somewhat-vast treasury accumulated through living the non-decadent, spartan, ascetic life, I decided this time around I could afford a few things more expensive than what I’ve usually gotten. Not a lot, but at least a few, in this case certain coins in the $100-$600 price range.
I also decided I should like to start collecting British coins of Queen Anne (r. 1702-1714), of which there appears to be many in my “new” temporary price-range. For no reason other than I think they’re very aesthetic coins, very tasteful and of understated sublime beauty.
Three times in the past—although not recently, the most-recent being maybe six years ago—I’ve purchased select coins from the firm in Dallas-Fort Worth, Texas, that has Attila Marc the Hun, the DFW primitive, on its payroll.
It’s kind of the Nieman-Marcus of the numismatic world, high-end merchandise and pretty ritzy, but at the same time it practices excellent customer service, and makes even the “little” or occasional customer feel as if he’s important to them. They’re not only professionals there; they’re nice guys too.
I’ve dealt with them via telephone before, inquiries about this thing or another thing (and ended up buying, or trying to buy, what I’d inquired about); I’m sure it ruffled them, trying to communicate with a deaf person, but they remained naturally courteous and unflappable nonetheless.
I never dealt with Attila Marc the Hun, who’s a third of the way around the globe; these were people in the office down in Texas.
However, because I have no patience with all this auction nonsense, those three preceding times I had someone else doing the auction part for me. Personally, I prefer that sellers simply stick price-tags on things, the buyer deciding whether or not something’s worth that price. I just don’t have the time or the patience to play auction games.
I’m not sure yet if I’m going to do that again, or try the auction game myself, but unlike the sore-loser primitives, I don’t hold a businessman’s politics against him. It’s his products and services I’m interested in buying, not his politics anyway.
