For three weeks, Elias had been locked in a silent standoff over a mid-century modern credenza. The seller, a woman named Barb from Marion, knew what she had. Elias, a man with a tiny apartment and an even tinier budget, knew what he wanted.

Five minutes later, the credenza was strapped into the truck bed. As Elias pulled away, he saw the SUV driver staring at him with pure, unadulterated Marketplace envy.

“Is this still available?” he had messaged fourteen days ago. “Yes. Price is firm,” Barb had replied, her profile picture a stern-looking Tabby cat.

Elias felt his heart sink. But then, Barb smiled—a rare, thin line. "But she didn't ask if it was still available every three days for two weeks. Consistency counts for something in this town."