Valentine's Day 1990 was a big holiday in Manhattan's Diamond District. Manny loaded up our window with gold hearts and diamond stud earrings. Loyal customers flocked to the Randolphs across the aisle from our display cases and we handled all the walk-ins i.e. jewellry shoppers without a destination.
"Can I help you something?" I asked a young man with snow melting on his shoulders. It had been a cold winter.
"I'm looking for something to give my girlfriend." He was staring at the merchandise in the counter, which we considered Richie Boy's and his brother Googs' inheritance, since the styles had passed out of favor decades before.
"You have a price in mind?" Richie Boy had instructed my approach to potential buyers. He called the process qualifying a customer. It was something that he had read in a self-motivation sales book.
"$500 to 600." The young man avoided eye contact. His was guilty of something. Something a box of chocolates or flowers would not cure.
"We have plenty of beautiful pieces for that price."
"What about a gold necklace?" I pulled out a 14K link chain. We had bought it from a taxi driver the previous week. He had found it in his cab. Once polished the chain gleamed with promise. The cost was written in code. $350. I pulled it across my jacket. It moved like a snake. "I can give this to you for $600. A bargain."
"I don't know." His hesitation was born of doubt.
"Diamond studs are nice." My last girlfriend had been in Paris. I bought her Chanel #5. It was too old for her. Even though the French don't celebrated it, we broke up on April Fool's Day.
"I can't afford them. What's your best price on this?"
"My best price would be $1000." Manny was standing to the side. He was ready to bump me off the sale. The phone rang. I was on my own.
"$1000?"
"Best price for me." A little humor to loosen him up. He wasn't smiling. "How will you be paying?"
More qualification.
"Cash."
Credit cards ate 3-5% of the profit. Cash was good.
"How's $525 sound." This was too easy.
"What about $500?"
"You ready to buy it now?"
"I might be." He still hadn't looked me in the eyes.
"Better $495. The extra five will buy you a beer. You want me to wrap it up?" We didn't have wrapping paper. Only boxes. Blue, black, and red. Manny didn't like giving away the expensive ones for a sale under a hundred, but I pulled out a black velvet necklace pouch and laid the gold chain inside.
"How do I know it's really gold?" The young man lifted his head.
"It's stamped here 14K. If it's not, you can return it any time you want for your money back." 47th Street has a funny reputation. The money-back guarantee could push him across the threshold.
"Can I get it appraised before I buy it?" He didn't trust me at all.
"Sure, but you'll have to pay for it."
"How much does that cost?"
"$25." Appraisers calmed shoppers' fears. Only first-time buyers used them. I thought that they were a scam, although some were honest. "That's dinner for one."
"I'll think about it." His hands sought his pockets. This deal was almost dead.
"If I dropped another couple of bucks, would you buy it now?" This move was an act of desperation.
"No, but maybe I'll be back." These were dreaded words to a salesman. He walked out the door and the deal was officially dead. I replaced the gold necklace in the showcase and went to the front window. The 'hawk' next door was dragging the young man inside his store. Hawks were like carnival shills. They could sell Eskimos yellow snow.
"Nice, you blew that sale." Manny whispered in my ear.
"He was suffering from the doubts."
"Another doubting goy." Manny went back to his desk.
I had lost the customer, because of the street's reputation.
It happens all then time, but especially on the weekend, when the busloads of tourists from Shawallagah, PA or Dover Delaware armed with a box of chicken wings and a bag of quarters gawked at the jewellery and demand incredulously, "Those aren't real diamonds, are they?"
"All of our diamonds are real and set in 14K and 18K gold or platinum jewellery," I answered cordially, for the most part. We might enjoy poking fun at these out-of-towners, yet their purchases can only add to our profit line, so once they're in the store we treat them as we would any valued customer, even if they're only looking for a Big Apple charm or want to tell us about their great-grandaunt's opal ring. As Manny says, "Be nice. It can't hurt."
Manny, Richie Boy, and I were honest within reason, but a few of our competitors prey on tourists like wolves tailing a cripple calves and every year ABC NEWS1 20/20 puts out a report to warn about unscrupulous diamond dealings on 47th Street.
Typically during holiday season the show's producers send out a young man to purchase a diamond engagement ring and inevitably ends up getting nailed by the same dealer on the corner of Sixth Avenue. The entire process of the sale is recorded by a hidden video camera to reveal the dealer's misrepresentation of the diamond's quality.
Weeks later Diane Sawyer will confront the dealer with the proof of his lies and in the show close with a warning for the public to beware.
One would expect that the dishonest merchant would be punished by such negative publicity, however inside this diamond dealer's ship hangs photo of Diane Sawyer hanging on his wall and he proudly states, "Diane shops here every year. One of my best customers."
To avoid getting fleeced, I suggest anyone looking for a diamond to head up to Tiffany's or Cartier first and get one of their diamond buying guides, which are free and offer a great thumbnail source of information to the novice.
Otherwise caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware and remember if it sounds to good to be true than it is too good to be true.
For any questions on jewellery or the diamond trade stop by Richie Boy and me and even Manny.
The first piece of advice is always free.
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