Bargains abound as province auctions its castoffs
Janet Boxell has $500 and a hankering for a bargain.
She arrives half an hour early at the government surplus auction on a dreary Wednesday morning and finds herself surrounded by hordes of office paraphernalia.
Odd relics nearby populate the warehouse shelves: nine bone saws, a Dictaphone, a toaster oven. Outdated technologies lie dormant, including stacks of labelled BlackBerrys and rows of VHS players in carrying briefcases.
But Boxell has no interest in scouring for hidden treasures. The auction house posts itemized lists online before the date of the auction, so she’s had time to settle on a potential bargain — a used camper. They sell on Kijiji for $500, which she decides is her limit.
“I’ve never been to an auction, so I was always kind of leery about how I wouldn’t know what to do,” she says. “But it’s kind of fun just to mill around, feel the vibe. I love people-watching, so it’s pretty exciting, actually.”
It’s Boxell’s first time at a surplus auction. She works for the Alberta government, making her one of the few people who know the auctions exist.
Every month, the province auctions off the discards of governmental departments and agencies. The auctions boast an average of 500 items, and the money raised goes back to the province’s general revenue fund after the auction house takes a commission.
“It’s almost like a little secret,” says Dave Hardwick, director of surplus sales. “When new people come in, they often say, ‘I just heard about this place. I didn’t know you were here.’ But we’ve been here for more than 20 years.”
Boxell admits she’s nervous. Her experience is limited to garage sales. She tries to reassure herself: “I have an outdoor voice so I should be OK.”
But if Larry Yakiwczuk has his way, this will be Boxell’s last time at a surplus auction.
He’s a professional bargain finder, who generates hefty profits by buying discounted goods and selling them through his company, Buckaru Auctions, and eBay. He also co-runs a consignment shop in the city.
“A lot of people here, this is how they make their living,” he says. “When you screw around with people’s lifestyles, it gets very, very competitive.”
Weeding out newcomers is part of Yakiwczuk’s business. He says 99 per cent of people are uneducated about auctions. That makes it easy for pros like him to drive prices up and then dump the unprofitable goods on the newcomers, who end up paying more than retail.
“They realize they can’t sell it or do anything with it. They just burned their money.”
What goods does Yakiwczuk look for? Anything and everything, he says. It all depends on the price. His most recent steal was a 14-passenger bus he bought for $500.
Running the auction is Ron Knutson, who has worked for Yellowhead Auctions since the province started commissioning the company in 1993.
Knutson leads buyers into a tattered, white tent dripping with rain.
Within minutes, Yakiwczuk comes back with good news. For $125, he has just bought three receiver hitches, which typically cost $200 each — a $475 profit. “I usually fill up a busload of stuff,” he says.
Minutes later, Boxell’s coveted camper is up for auction. “That’s mine,” she exclaims, pointing to a Benair travel tent trailer that has seen better days. The beige paint is chipping and the front is sprinkled with rust spots. Boxell is determined to snag it for $500.
The next few seconds are a blur. Shouts stream from all directions. Boxell looks around, trying to figure out who’s bidding what.
Suddenly, the price jumps to $700 and Boxell seems to realize it’s too late. Before she can even flash her yellow card, the auctioneer yells, “Sold!”
She pauses, shakes her head and laughs. “I feel like crying,” Boxell says jokingly.
But that doesn’t deter her. “The next time I come,” she says, “I’ll be a seasoned veteran.”