From a quick search on yard sale ethics...
Is it ethical to buy something at a yard sale or a flea market at the seller’s asking price if you know the value of the item to be significantly higher than what is being asked? Let’s say, for example, someone is selling an old comic book worth thousands of dollars but asks for only a quarter because he or she does not know the true value. Is it incumbent on the seller to do his or her research? If the seller does not, is it fair game? RYAN ATLAS, BOSTON
The operative word in your question is “true” directly placed before the word “value.” You suggest the “true value” of a specific comic book is a few thousand dollars — but all that means is someone might be willing to pay that much for it, based on extrinsic qualities (rarity, for example). To the person running the flea market, the “true value” of the comic book is virtually nothing. There is no “true value” for any object: it’s always a construct, provisionally defined by a capricious market and the locality of the transaction. Things cost what they are being sold for, and they’re worth whatever the seller can get. It’s unethical for a seller to knowingly take advantage of someone’s practical desperation in a crisis (say, selling D batteries for $75 a pack during a citywide blackout), but it’s not unethical for a buyer to accept whatever arbitrary value a seller places on his or her goods.
Look at it like this: Let’s say the person at the flea market was selling that same rare comic for $2,000. You, however, would be willing to pay far more than that; because of its sentimental value and the status it will bring among your comic-book-collecting peers, you’d gladly fork over $5,000. Would you feel the need to inform the seller, “You know, I’d actually pay you $3,000 more than what you’re asking”? I don’t think you would, and no one would expect you to.
Now, this does not mean it’s ethical to take advantage of people simply because they’re uninformed about the arcane details of modern commerce. If you’re visiting an elderly neighbor and notice he’s using a 1909 Honus Wagner baseball card as a bookmark for his Bible, you can’t casually offer to buy the card for $1 in the hope that he won’t know any better. You can’t proactively look for ways to swindle people. But things change when somebody decides to put a nonessential item on the market: the person looks at an object, creates an imaginary value for what it is worth and asks for the equivalent of that fabricated value in currency. If the number is too high, no one will buy it; if the number is too low, the seller leaves money on the table. But people don’t inherently deserve the maximum potential price for whatever they’re trying to move. If that’s what they desire, they have to get it for themselves.