Over the weekend, our family decided to replace our dining room table. Like most people these days, I turned to an online marketplace to sell our old table. I used Facebook Marketplace and priced the table low to attract interest. Lacking inspiration, I labelled it, “Dining room table with 2 leaves.”

Within 30 minutes, I started to get messages from potential buyers seeking information on its dimensions and condition. I heard from Natalie, Scott, Lisa, Mia, and Zelija. I also got a thumbs up from Jill (my first marketplace follower), but no message. The table was suddenly in high demand, and I had to decide who to sell it to.

Natalie, I discovered from her online profile, was from Redondo Beach, California. Should I sell the table to someone outside of Oregon? I own a shirt that says, “Oregon is above California,” which has gotten nice compliments and wry looks from residents of the state. Natalie’s profile picture looks joyful. I can imagine our table feeling happy in her home. It may even end up near a beach if she decides to move back to her hometown.

On the other hand, Scott went to Brentwood High School (class of 2005) and seems to be highly social with over 1,100 friends. Instead of a photo, Scott’s profile features a quote: “You make mistakes, mistakes don’t make you.” Maybe he would accept all of the dings and coffee stains on our table with grace and ease? It made me happy to think of Scott adding a leaf or two to the table to share a tasty meal with a few of his thousand friends and perhaps relive memories from his days at Bentwood High.

Lisa had half as many friends as Scott (only 559), but she posted a cute childhood picture of herself and recently updated her cover photo with a set of 4 fresh peaches in a box. I could see these peaches resting on our old table in Lisa’s dining room. Lisa seemed to have an artistic flair. As I scrolled down, I found a photo of a single flower silhouetted in a vase by a window and another of a beautiful sunset that attracted 5 hearts and a thumbs up. Then, I wondered, with all the changes Lisa made to her profile page, would our table get “updated” 3 months from now?

Mia peppered me with questions: Can you tell me what type of wood it is, how heavy, and also what the measurements are without the leaves?

Mia revealed little about herself. There was just one photo of a cactus in a small pot. She had not posted anything and only had 44 friends. And yet, she was asking me for more information than any of the other potential buyers.

Mia made me think…

How could I weigh our table? Could I place it on a weighing scale? It was heavy to me, but perhaps not to Mia? I think the table was made from oak, but I really have no idea what type of tree it came from. I imagined Mia arriving at our house with a tape measure, only to be disappointed if the table's dimensions didn't match her expectations. Maybe she’s a bit like the cactus, a bit prickly?

I’ll proceed with caution.

Zelija hit the mark with her message, tacked on to the auto-respond stem on the Facebook Marketplace app.

Hi, is this available? I can pick up thus morning.

I overlooked the typo and was delighted she had no questions and a concrete plan to pick up our table.

Zelija was a pro.

Unlike the others, Zelija had her own marketplace page to corral amateurs like me. Here, she displayed a passion for restoring old wooden tables and chairs — her listings included photos of a vintage dining room table, farmhouse table, pub table, and a TV tray dinner table (set of 2). Zelija only offered details on the TV dinner table’s dimensions, not its weight or wood type (a savvy move). Also, she was selling two tables for $30 to enjoy a meal with a loved one (a generous & well-priced package deal).

Zelija's profile page included a sunlit family portrait of her husband and two small children, all beaming in unison. Unlike Scott, Zelija had attended a school abroad called Osonova Skola Stjepan Supanc Vukovar 53. Google revealed to me that Vukovar is a city in Croatia, located in eastern Slavonia.

I also learned that Vukovar is the largest Croatian river port on the Danube. Zelija is from Croatia! I have no personal ties to Croatia, but Zelija's no-nonsense, straightforward approach, along with her adorable family, won me over in this virtual flea market.

The following day, Zelija arrived at our house in her large, white Honda Pilot. I had disassembled our old table with two leaves and had it ready for her to add it to her growing table collection.

I warned her, we have a friendly but excitable dog. Text when you arrive.

Louie began shrieking and wagging his large tail as Zelija’s car pulled up to our home. I tried to squeeze by him to slip out the front door, but Louie knew this move well and barreled ahead of me toward Zelija.

Oh God, I braced for the worst.

Instead of backing away, Zelija leaned into our 85-pound golden doodle and shot a grin at me, the same one from her profile image.

He’s smelling our big dog on me, Zelija chuckled as she groomed Louie’s side.

Louie squealed with delight.

I sighed in relief and then tried to greet Zelija, who was now fully reinforcing Louie’s erratic behaviors.

So, this is the base, and these screws go here…I was eager to pass along a few tips to the next table’s owner.

Zelija politely interrupted me.

My husband will put it together when I get it home. Can you please help me load it in the car?

Zelija shared she had recently left a stressful but high-paying job for a big fish company (I travelled to almost every state, but I didn’t love it). She is now substitute teaching a few days a week in local schools (“I love middle schoolers, they tell you exactly what they are thinking”) and refurbishes used furniture on the side (My mum in Croatia would be horrified if she knew what I was doing with all my degrees). Zelija told me she loves meeting people on all sides of the political and cultural spectrum.

I'm making just enough money to cover our kids’ sports fees, and it helps that my husband works full time…I’ve spent too much time in my virtual bubble…this work reminds me how much I share in common with strangers.

Zelija inquired about our family. I shared the ages of our kids and where they attend school in the city. We found common ground, even though I have never floated down the Danube or heard of Vukovar. We discussed the origins of our names, which are both hard to pronounce. She even complimented me as I caught myself repeating her name out loud on our front lawn in an effort to commit it to memory.

Very good, she said.

Even though I realize Zelija is probably not going to keep my table, it does sound like it will get a Croatian makeover and end up beside the TV tray dinner set on her marketplace page. Hopefully, she earns some decent money to pay for her children’s soccer registrations or at least breaks even.

Ultimately, in Zelija, I found a buyer who was right for me (perhaps not for the table). I was inspired by her zeal to refurbish her life through her table trading and part-time teaching gigs.

I just love the hustle, she glowed.

Her newfound energy was infectious.

I have faint memories of visiting flea markets growing up, and today I enjoy making trips to local farmers’ markets. The goods and services I find in these spaces are infused with personal stories and human interactions.

They keep me grounded.

It was nice to meet Zelija through the marketplace and to make a brief, unexpected, and genuine connection.

Louie was sad to see her go.

Thanks for reading this post.

I love to hear from readers of HIPS. Please drop a comment below (if you have the Substack app) or reach out to me at [email protected].

I added an AI-generated voice-over to this post. Let me know what you think?

Until next time, be kind to yourself and others.

Stay curious.

P.S. I am not selling or buying any more tables.

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