Hans and I got blown out of the water in a live auction bid. It was great.
The day was supposed to have started at a leisurely pace, and eventually move into a lunch reunion with my father and Hans (coincidentally). Hopefully, dad would weave tales of horse assault and energy policy into my brain., and Hans and I could catch up as good friends who see too little of each other. Instead, my boss called, and I answered the phone in my underwear. He was "assuming" I was on my way to the BLM office where they were having a federal oil and gas lease sale in 45 minutes. I told him I was on my way, and tucked my shirt in on the way out the door only a few hurried minutes later. Drive fast.
I was a little frustrated that I didn't have more time to steel myself for my first time sitting in on a real life, funny-as-you-might-assume auction with a man in a ten gallon hat, boots, and a belt buckle.
The sale started at 9:00 AM, and I walked in at 8:59 to find Hans already there. The boss sent backup. Given how the morning started, I'd say that was a reasonable proposition. Plus, have you met me?
Hans and I had a few moments to discuss strategy. Our top bid was $60, but we were under strict orders not to let anyone buy the lease for that amount. If the auctioneer got to $60 and it looked like it was going to get sold, we needed to make sure the price was bumped. This way, if the client looked at the eventual sale price, he would see that the lease sold for more than he was willing to pay. We decided that I'd bid on the first of the two parcels, and Hans would bid on the second. That way, we both got part of the auction action.
Jim and Bob were the auctioneers. Of course they were. Their names couldn't have been anything else. Jim explained that they were professionals from Brush County, Colorado. (Read: B.F.E.) Judging by their matching embroidered maroon oxfords, blue jeans and hats, they looked the part. The rules were explained, and off we went.
My parcel was about tenth out of the forty or so up for sale. When we got there, the bidding started at $2. Within a matter of seconds, it was up to $50. My heart started to pound. When Jim got to $60, I had yet to enter a bid, and someone else held their number aloft. Jim then asked for $70. I was a man with a conflict. I wasn't supposed to go that high, but I wasn't supposed to let it get bought for our top price, either. I meekly waved my number.
"Hammmmbannnna hemmmmennaa sixty dollars up front-ah! Sixty! Do I have seventy? Seventy? (At this point I gave the half wave) Sir in the back! Hammmannna bahhhhammmmaaannaa Seventy? Yes? (I shake my head no, like the child who broke the window with his baseball, and is avoiding the eyes of an angry father who knows full well the weighty truth) Seventy??? In the front I have seventy. Seventy five? Hammmmaannna heeednemmmma oooooohhhhmannnna......"
The parcel eventually sold for $175, but you couldn't really argue that I even landed a punch.
Hans' parcel was next, and after witnessing my mini fiasco, he knew which way the wind was blowing. Hans never even raised his number card for a parcel that was sold for $110. Like I said, we got blown out of the water. But we walked out feeling like we had at least seen something memorable, even if it was two poorly dressed men do their best impression of the micro machine man. And what the hell? Hans and I still had a lunch to attend with my dad as the main source of entertainment. Today was full of it.
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