Flohmarkt: A Tale of Joy and Deceit

Each sunday I have thus far spent in Berlin has included a trip to a Flohmarkt. The environment is lively and it’s a nice place to visit on an afternoon regardless if you intend to make any purchases. On my first visit I bought a chess board, and even now I look back on this transaction as one which benefited me as well as the proprietor of the stand equally. But it is not this purchase which is catapulted to the forefront of my mind at the mention of the word “Flohmarkt”, for there was a second transaction I conducted the following sunday, at the very same market. I came upon a stand which displayed two tantalizing vintage record players which I immediately placed myself in front of for a moment of awe-stricken gazing. Upon inquiry I learned that one was available for 30 euro, and the other 25. I asked which was the better of the two and I was assured that either would constitute a sound acquisition, and that any difference between the two was negligible. So excited was I at the prospect of having my own home entertainment phonograph system that I made no attempt at haggling over the price, and informed the salesman of my intent to purchase the 30 euro model, which I deemed the more aesthetically pleasing of the pair. Before I handed the money over I hesitated and put forth the question: “So this definitely works, right?”. To which I received the reply: “Yes, definitely, yes”. This I found to be a satisfying answer. So much so that I coughed up the cash eagerly and was soon on my way carrying a laundry basket with a turntable and speakers. I acquired four records from a neighboring stand and then I was off to my home to plug in the thing that was definitely going to work. It didn’t work. It looks nice on my dresser and I imagine it will be a nice conversation starter someday. It might go something like this: “hey look at that! does it work”, and then I’d say “no”. Let this be a tale of caution to all eager Flohmarkt attendees, for the ear to ear grin of the salesman as I handed him the money haunts me each night as I lay alone in the darkness.