THE HUNT: STORIES FROM THE ROAD

If you’d told me six months into my reselling journey that I’d be spending every spare minute chasing yard sale treasures, I might have laughed. But by the summer of 2022, reselling was my obsession—side hustle or not. My days blurred together in a cycle of sourcing, listing, packing, and learning. To top it off, I was pouring hours into building a YouTube channel, documenting every win and misstep for the world to see.

One Friday morning, the promise of a handful of local yard sales had me up before the sun, scrolling through a Facebook group for leads. Most listings were the usual suspects—clothes, plush toys, random kitchen gadgets. But one post caught my eye: four long, slender boxes tucked into the corner of a blurry photo. The colors and lettering looked familiar, so I zoomed in, squinting at the grainy pixels until I could just make out the word: “Steinbach.”

A quick Google search and some eBay comping later, my heart was pounding. Steinbach nutcrackers—these could be worth real money. I mapped out my route, set my price ceiling, and rehearsed my negotiation tactics. If those boxes were still there, I was ready.

After hitting a few other sales with little luck, I pulled into the driveway of the barn sale. The scene was straight out of a movie: a horse barn transformed into a makeshift marketplace. As I stepped inside, my eyes darted from table to table, each second stretching my nerves tighter. Just when I was about to give up hope, I spotted them—those unmistakable boxes, half-hidden under a table.

I fought the urge to sprint over. Instead, I casually browsed, trying to mask my excitement. When I finally picked up the boxes, a woman and her teenage daughter watched me closely. “Do you know what those are?” she asked. I played it cool. “Not really, but they look pretty cool.” She named her price—higher than I’d hoped. My mind raced. Should I negotiate? Would I offend her? Was I about to blow my yard sale budget and risk my wife’s wrath?

I stalled, pretending to browse, making small talk, and gently probing for her motivation to sell. But my nerves got the best of me. I left, grabbed lunch, and double-checked the comps. I set my max offer, counted my cash, and waited until just before the sale’s end—hoping desperation might tip the scales in my favor.

Back at the barn, the air was thick with anticipation. I told her I was interested but had a max I could pay. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you say no,” I assured her. She hesitated, glanced at her daughter, and after a tense pause, agreed.

I left with those nutcrackers, adrenaline still buzzing. My wife thought I was crazy for dropping that much at a yard sale. But as the months passed and each Steinbach sold for a tidy profit on eBay, I knew I’d made the right gamble. Sometimes, the best stories—and the best scores—come from trusting your gut and chasing the thrill, one blurry photo at a time.

When I launched my reselling side hustle in 2022, winter had the world locked in a deep freeze and yard sales were nowhere to be found. My treasure hunts took me to thrift stores and into the unpredictable world of liquidation mystery boxes. Each trip felt like a gamble—I never knew what I was looking for, so I found myself glued to my phone, frantically checking eBay comps on almost every item I touched.

I could feel the eyes of seasoned thrifters burning into me. Was I broadcasting my rookie status? Did they all just know what was valuable by instinct? I tried to ignore the paranoia, but it stuck with me each time I wandered those aisles, phone in hand.

Weeks went by. Maybe months. I found a few things here and there, but nothing that made my heart race. That is, until one ordinary afternoon at Goodwill.

I’d been working my way through rows of hardgoods—picking through toys, home decor, and all sorts of odds and ends—before finally glancing over the racks of glassware and knickknacks. My hope was fading with every shelf, and I was just about ready to call it a day when something unusual caught my eye on the top shelf—a zip lock baggie, out of place among the delicate trinkets. Inside, I spotted what looked like a cord. Electronics always piqued my curiosity, so I reached up, half-expecting to find a portable Bluetooth speaker.

But as I pulled it down, my excitement fizzled. It was just a travel coffee mug. Disappointment crept in, but then I noticed the cord—why would a mug need a cord? Did it even belong together? My curiosity got the better of me, so I looked closer and saw the word "Ember" printed on the side.

A quick eBay search changed everything. Used Ember mugs were selling for around . My hands shook as I checked the price sticker: .99. No hesitation—I was buying it.

I rushed home, heart pounding, and dove into research. Turns out, this was no ordinary mug. It was a smart mug, designed to keep drinks at the perfect temperature, all controllable from an app. I tested it—worked perfectly. I snapped some photos and listed it on eBay.

Within a week, it sold.

That was the day I scored my first real thrifting win. And it taught me that sometimes, treasure hides in the most unexpected places—all it takes is a little curiosity and the guts to look closer.