Nearly six years ago, after seeing TV ads running for days, I convinced my wife to go with me to a “huge blowout liquidation sale” of some unnamed computer corporation that was being held at a local convention center.  “Monitors for $20! Printers for $15! Laptops for $50!” the ad screamed.  The “tech lust” center of my brain almost short-circuited from the sheer magnitude of the offer. I was younger, naive, and flush with cash and I needed whatever computer junk they were hawking.

We drove to the convention center, walked up and was greeted by ticket taker who demanded $6 per person just to walk in and see what was being offered.  We were not allowed to see or know what was behind the doors without first paying this non-refundable fee.  Right here we should have turned around and walked away, but I was still captive to the spell wound by the advertisement. I reluctantly paid the toll and walked in.

I was amazed at the number of booths set up.   They were selling everything one could imagine:  Car stereos, speakers, computer equipment and software, massages, time-share property, and even knock-off sunglasses.  Whatever group was running this weekend sale obviously opened their doors to every shyster and snake oil salesman who was willing to pay the booth fee. But still I couldn’t see through the scam.

Since I came to the center specifically for computer equipment, I focused my energy on scouring those booths for great deals.  Everywhere I looked, I saw no-brand items, refurbished equipment, and unlicensed and pirated software.  The only thought going through my head was, “I paid $12 of my hard-earned dollars to get in this place.  I’m walking out with something.” And that’s exactly what they intended for me to think.   I was suffering from the sunk cost fallacy:  I had already paid in and, in my mind, that money would be wasted if I left empty-handed.

Eventually, we came upon a man selling laptops that the Army had retired.  Mind you, these were less laptops and more huge paperweights that barely functioned with a 4-year-old unlicensed copy of Windows 98.  Of all the shady characters, he seemed to be the cleanest.  He was asking and outrageous price of $600 for this piece of junk, but he “reluctantly” accepted $400 in exchange for that gray behemoth and a “complimentary” laptop bag.

I could feel pure regret coursing through my body as I signed my name on that check, but I was no longer in control of myself. The scammers had taken me in completely and there was little I could do to fight back.  After completing the transaction, my wife quickly escorted me out of the convention center to avoid losing any more money to the scam.  And for the next few months, we did the smart thing and closely watched our checking account to make sure that regret-strained check didn’t balloon into a much bigger problem.

I recently saw ads running for this scheme again. With the poor economy, they’ve changed their tactic to a “going-out-of-business liquidation” pitch to entice people and make them believe they can get good deals.

Please, learn from my very expensive mistake and steer clear of this and related convention center sale scams. Whatever claims they make in their ad, do not believe them.  Whatever they’re selling isn’t worth the price and might very well be a stolen or pirated product which would leave you liable if it was caught in your possession.  Save your money and purchase from a reputable dealer that will stand behind their product and not some faceless group that’s only in town for three days.  You’ll thank yourself later.

Photo by: Potjie

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