Gullible buyer never around when needed
by Carlos Raigosa, editor-in-chief

     I am the type of person that would buy a life jacket even if I lived in Egypt. Not because I’m paranoid, but because I am extremely gullible. This whole e-commerce thing has become a haven for people trying to get rid of their “junk.”
     Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy searching through people’s treasure chests, but without the ability to touch, scratch and sometimes sniff the merchandise I’m trying to obtain, Caveat Emptor is the law of the virtual land.
     So the other day, in my desperate endeavors to make money, I decided to sell one of my wisdom teeth on eBay. I figured if a man could attempt to sell his kidneys, why couldn’t I sell something that I wasn’t going to get any money for anyway?
     For some reason, the tooth fairy stopped coming by my house around the age of 11, so I figured I could cut out the middleman and make the commission myself.
     I kept the posting on for about a month, I believe, and never received any offers for my “magical wisdom tooth.” I guess a picture would have attracted more buyers, but I couldn’t get the tooth to cooperate with me.
     As much powder as I applied to it, the tooth would still have a shiny side on it—making it impossible to photograph.
     I’m still thinking of ways to market my product. My marketing teacher said that the four p’s of the marketing mix—product, place, price and promotion—are the primary functions in pleasing your customers.
     Well, I started the bid at $10, low enough for a Grade-A tooth.
     I figure the D-FW metroplex is saturated with tooth-loving freaks, so the place seemed reasonable. And my promotion, well, I can’t say I have anything else to offer with the tooth right now, but I’m sure in a couple of months I’ll have three more to complete the set.
     While checking out my competition, I came across a used glow-in-the-dark toilet seat and an automatic pooper scooper for dogs, which was “in mint condition” and “only used once”— a bargain if you ask me.



Copyright © 2000 The Collegian - All Rights Reserved